When 90s week on Suns.com was announced, visions of Charles Barkley, Dan Majerle, NegeleKnight -- have to give love to the 12th man -- and the 1992-93 Phoenix Suns danced through my head. The simple reason is because when you think about that decade, that team is to Suns fans what Ace of Base is to one hit wonder lovers, the gold standard. It’s probably the default thing you thought of the second you read “‘90s Week” two sentences ago too. Especially if you’re in your 30s.

As I thought further though there was one moment that personally defined the Suns in the 1990s for me even more than the Finals team. That instance took place almost 20 years ago to the day on Thursday, February 8, 1996. I remember it like it was yesterday even though it wasn’t a playoff game or even in a season where the Suns did anything particularly magical. In fact, they were the Step By Step of the NBA aka the definition of average that year finishing 41-41.

The moment was impactful for a few reasons. First, as fate would have, it was the night that my favorite player, the one whose jersey I was wearing in alternate black of course, Charles Barkley, recorded his 20,000th career point. I wish I could tell you I vividly remember the shot he hit to reach the milestone, but I’d be lying. What sticks with me is being a 12 year old absolutely losing my mind when it happened and continuing to as Barkley was on his way to scoring 30 points and grabbing 18 rebounds. The arena and all 19,023 fans rising in unison with such force that even Superman’s nemesis Doomsday would cower in fear is something I’ll never forget. It was a moment that, as a young kid, I realized part of the power of sports is that as a fan you’re part of something bigger than yourself.

Surprisingly enough, witnessing history wasn’t what made this the quintessential Suns moment for me either though. It was the way I wound up at the game that solidified me as a lifelong Suns fan and left an impact on me for decades to come.

The afternoon of the game after school my dad called the house phone. Back then it was the only phone because we were still a few years away from the prominence of cell phones. Archaic, I know. He told me to be ready to go to the Suns game by 5 PM. As a middle schooler it was a treat to stay up long enough to watch the end of a game on a school night, let alone attend one in person.

He provided no details other than be ready. I followed instructions and at 5 o’clock sharp we got into his midlife crisis sports car and took the ride from Chandler to Downtown Phoenix. As the formerly named America West Arena came into view, my excitement began to build more than winning a game of Pogs or watching Singled Out -- a show I wasn’t allowed to watch -- would have done at that age. I didn’t know where we were sitting and didn’t care because I got to see the “Purple Gang from Phoenix” play in person instead of imagining it while listening to Al McCoy and Greg Schulte call the game.

About a mile before the arena we pulled over and parked near Marjerle’s Sports Grill. What I assumed was a brief stop for dinner was actually where we were picking up tickets. See, my neighbor’s brother was a long time season ticket holder and, unbeknownst to me, he had invited my dad to join him at the game. My father declined but instead asked if I could go along to the game in his place. The family friend obliged and, when we arrived at Majerle’s, handed me my ticket. I looked down at the rectangle piece of cardboard in my hand with a basketball background, a picture of a young fan not much older than myself in a jersey and a basketball mask and the Suns “Livin’ It. Lovin’ It.” slogan and smiled. Then I realized where the seats were. Section 102, row 4, seat 11.

At that moment I felt like Charlie getting the golden ticket and getting to tour the chocolate factory. I was sitting four rows up from dead-center court. The seats were amazing, the game was unbelievable as the Suns beat the Nets 107-102, Barkley made history and I had a great time. The best part though was that my dad spent the entire evening in his car listening to the game on the radio waiting for me. It was his kindness and willingness to sacrifice his evening that helped forge my decades long love affair with the team.

Last week while preparing to write this piece I decided to go sit in the same seat 12-year-old me did. An hour before tip-off I took the walk up section 102 and into fourth row. As I sat down in seat 11, I was shocked to realize my view for that game as a kid was just four rows up and two seats over from the view I have 41 nights a year on press row.

For 20 years I’ve saved the ticket stub from that game. It went with me from my parents’ house, to my college dorm and to numerous apartments. Along the way it even was signed by the man himself Charles Barkley. It now sits on my desk, in a frame, at the Talking Stick Resort Arena as a reminder of why that moment in 1996 that defined my fanhood, built my passion and help lead me to the job I have today.

So enjoy 1990s week, if you’re in my age range, use it to reconnect with what made you a Suns fan. Because in the end #WeArePHX because of moments like these.