Oh, what a weekend.

It all started for me at the "butt-crack of dawn" on Friday morning, my 20th birthday, when I helped set up the stage equipment for the G-Love concert. I had flashbacks to elementary school as I wore a name tag that read, "Bryan — AKA Birthday Boy," in hopes that my friends at SUB might recognize it and wish me the obligatory Happy Birthday. It worked.

Friday night, I sat with my roommate and a close friend as our Fighting Irish women's basketball team took on Connecticut. Munching on Doritos and guzzling Mountain Dew after Mountain Dew, we watched in agony as the Irish fell behind by 16, only to make the biggest comeback in the 20-year history of the women's Final Four.

This might sound corny, but I knew all along that they would win. I really did. And they had to. After all, it was my birthday.

Then, on Saturday, I held an informal gathering in my room for some of my manager friends. As they started to arrive, they sang me a beautiful rendition of Happy Birthday.

Then there was a knock at my door.

It opened, and about two dozen guys from my section, in the midst of competing in 23 sports in 14 minutes, took the time to provide me with their own raucous rendition of the tune. I laughed.

Then, on Sunday night, I went over to LaFortune and joined about 200 of my closest friends in cheering on the Irish women again, this time in the national championship. I walked past the TV trucks waiting outside. I don't think at that point I realized how momentous this occasion was. I soon did.

While meeting with my management group at halftime, I felt a great sense of hope. I knew that these resilient Irish players could win, even though they were trailing the game by six points at halftime. We all sat with excited anticipation.

Throughout the second half, we watched as Ruth Riley, Kelley Siemon, Niele Ivey, Alicia Ratay, and Ericka Haney kept the Irish well within striking distance.

The game was ours. I could smell it.

Then, with 5.8 seconds left in the game, I started having flashbacks.

2001 Big East tournament finals. Riley made one of two free throws to bring the Irish even with UConn, only to watch as Sue Bird drive the length of the court and sink the game-winning shot at the buzzer.

But, luckily, this time the outcome was different. Katie Douglas' desperation shot for Purdue missed — barely — and the Irish emerged victorious. LaFortune exploded as the final buzzer sounded. I smiled and hugged strangers, oblivious to the fact that I was now 20 years old, no longer a teenager.

The weekend ended at about 2:30 Monday morning. About an hour earlier, my roommate and I walked to Main Circle and watched the Irish charter jet fly directly over campus. The party was about to begin.

We stood along Notre Dame Avenue, just in front of the Morris Inn, and cheered as the team's bus pulled up in front of us. The players took turns hoisting the championship trophy high into the South Bend night, and I took pictures. After all, you don't exactly win a national championship every day; I wanted to remember this forever

I got the greatest gifts for my birthday. Not money, clothes or expensive toys, but friendship, joy, and most importantly, memories. Not bad for a guy with a bad memory.

• The Greatest Gift