By Jason Keidel
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For those who were barely alive and lucid 20 years ago, it’s hard to fathom how big and beloved O.J. Simpson was.
Like everything that happened on June 17, 1994, context is essential.
Before the Bronco chase and media histrionics and all the accidental celebrities who fell into America’s lap on that day and the days after, June 17, 1994 was a day of white-hot sports in New York City.
You remember odd things about big days in your life. I was a travel agent for American Express, working and living in Manhattan. But my mother was away that night, and asked me to care for her dogs in New Jersey, using her mammoth, Sony Trinitron (remember those?) as bait.