I never saw Babe Ruth hit a home run. I’ve also never seen Willie Mays make a great catch, Roger Maris or Mickey Mantle take an opposing pitcher deep, Jackie Robinson steal a base, or Sandy Koufax strike out the side.

I never saw Arnold Palmer or Jack Nicklaus win a major.

I never saw Rocky Marciano, Muhammad Ali, or Sugar Ray Robinson throw a punch.

I never saw Bob Cousy, Bill Russell, Kareem, Magic, or Larry Bird score a single point.

I never saw Johnny Unitas or Joe Namath throw a touchdown or Vince Lombardi coach a game.

For these reasons and many more, my generation is often pitied or even derided by our parents and grandparents because we never “saw the real thing.” The old players are just names to us, forever stationed on their pedestals of unreachable excellence. The players now are just cheap imitations of the unquestionable glory that came before.

I take exception to this. The players of my generation are second to none. Let me count the things I have seen, either live in person or on TV or radio:

I have seen Felix Hernandez (and several others) pitch a perfect game, and I watched the Boston Red Sox win the World Series. Twice. I watched Barry Bonds break the single-season and career home run records (with a little help), and I have seen Mariano Rivera save a game, sometimes against my Mariners. I watched Albert Pujols hit three home runs in a single World Series game.

I have seen Wayne Gretzky score a goal, and I watched Patrick Roy and Martin Brodeur face off in the Stanley Cup.

I watched Micheal Jordan with three consecutive NBA Championships, take a year of to play baseball, then come back and with three more, again consecutively. I remember Reggie Miller and the Pacers duel with Patrick Ewing and the Knicks in the mid-90s. I’ve watched LeBron James and Kevin Durant face off in the Finals.

I’ve seen Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal face off in the finals of many Major tournaments.

I watched in 2008 as a one-legged Tiger Woods fought and won a 91-hole, David vs. Goliath battle with Rocco Mediate at Torrey Pines to win the U.S. Open for a third time. I’ve seen Tiger win a lot.

I’ve never seen Floyd Mayweather lose a fight, and I’ve seen Mike Tyson win several in dramatic fashion.

I was watching when the underdog New England Patriots led by 2nd-year quarterback Tom Brady won Super Bowl XXXVI on a ridiculous 48-yard field goal by Adam Vinatieri as time expired.

I watched Michael Phelps win more Olympic Gold Medals than anyone, ever.

I saw Lance Armstrong win seven consecutive Tour de France titles, then lose them all because professional cycling is more drug-riddled and corrupt than an episode of Breaking Bad.

I could go on, but I feel I have made my point. The athletes of my generation are and will be legendary. I will likely accuse my kids and grandkids of worshiping mediocre athletes, and one of them will write an article that looks like this one. But this article is in defense of my generation. We have had (and are having) the privilege of seeing many of these players and rivalries play out before our eyes. These titanic clashes are on par with and sometimes (yes, I’ll say it), even exceed the great competitions that live in the nostalgia of our parents and grandparents. They say that nostalgia is often the result of a bad memory, but I would choose embellished happy memories over realistic and accurate ones any day.

So don’t worry if some old dude says to you “you never saw the real thing, kid.” Your “real thing” is out there, right now, achieving greatness, creating a legend, and breaking unbreakable records even if old dudes refuse to acknowledge it. You live in extraordinary times. Be happy.