Sure, it was a big play. But looking inside the play is important, because what you find when you peel back the layers, and get to the core, is really the essence of sport.
The New England Patriots spent 60 minutes yesterday repeatedly shooting themselves in the foot. They fumbled the ball. They threw interceptions. They got nailed for big penalties. They gave Denver a very short field all day. And they lost. But one of those shots to the foot is worth a second, a third, and a fourth look - the interception return of 101 yards by Denver cornerback Champ Bailey, and the extraordinary effort by Patriot tight end Ben Watson to run him down.
The score stood at Denver 10, New England 6. The Patriots had forced a punt, and were now driving smartly down the field. Tom Brady and the New England offensive line had seemingly solved the complex Bronco blitz schemes, bringing 5, 6 and even 7 rushers at a time. They had, in four plays, moved 73 yards to the Denver 5, first and goal. A false start moved the ball to the 10, and a short pass regained the lost yardage. Second down saw an incompletion to wideout David Givens. It was third and goal from the 5. Brady dropped back and sensed a strong rush from his blind side, moving agilely in the pocket to his right. An old favorite target, Troy Brown, had curled to the outside and looked to be open in front of Bailey, and Brady fired.
His throw was, unfortunately for the Pats, a little to the inside, and released perhaps a split second late. Bailey had a chance, planted and cut to the outside, and slid between Brown and Brady just as the ball arrived, grasping it tightly two yards deep in the end zone.
Ben Watson, the second year tight end out of Georgia, had run a flare pattern to the left side of the formation, and Brady had rolled away from him. He saw the pick, and then saw the speedy Pro Bowl corner head upfield, the pigskin under his arm, and a phalanx of blockers ahead of him. Watson started to run.
Bailey, from his defensive end zone, and with 100 yards of Mile High stadium turf in front of him, saw only the opposite end zone. As he headed upfield there was really only one challenge - to beat the angle taken by Patriots running back Kevin Faulk. Bailey was in full flight, and Faulk had but one shot. He dove at Bailey's ankles at midfield, disrupting the defender's stride for just a step, but Bailey kept his balance and resumed his drive downfield.
The blockers looked around. Tom Brady had given chase, but a quarterback was not going to run down a speedy corner from behind. The camera followed Bailey, and his blockers, looking around and seeing nobody, began to lope.
Bailey slowed also. The effort to sprint past Faulk and away from Brady had begun to tighten his legs. His stride shortened slightly, and his hips dropped. There was no danger, though. Eight or ten strides and he'd be in the end zone, and his team would be up by 11 instead of down by three.
But there was a danger, and it's name was Watson. Watson hadn't slowed, and the 6 foot 3, 250 pound tight end was eating up the turf like a gazelle, running the longer hypotenuse of the right triangle. Sure, Bailey would score, but Watson wasn't going to slow until the referee's hands were in the air signaling touchdown.
The blockers never saw him. Watson had come from the far side of the field. Nobody could catch Bailey coming from there. It was impossible.
Bailey was loping himself now, completely gassed, but only a couple of strides to go. And then a Mack truck ran him over, and Bailey flew off his feet and out of bounds at the one. As he did so, the ball flew out of his arms at an angle, also out of bounds. The referees marked the ball at the one, where Bailey had been knocked from the field of play. The corner lay on his back, dazed from his his own effort and from the crushing tackle of Ben Watson.
But what about the ball? Did it pass out of bounds in the field of play, or through the end zone? If the latter, Watson's tremendous effort would get the Patriots the ball back, still only down four, at their own 20. The play was reviewed, and the call on the field stood. As much as I would have liked to see the call changed, I can't say that any replay clearly showed that it should be.
The Broncos waltzed into the end zone on the next play, and the touchdown that Bailey should by all rights have scored was chalked up to running back Mike Anderson. Denver 17, New England 6, and with the Patriots committing additional mistakes their fate was sealed. But what of Watson's play? Nothing changed. The touchdown that he prevented was scored anyway. The game that was being lost was lost anyway. Nothing changed at all. So why exert such a tremendous effort fighting against all odds to stave off the inevitable?
You do it because the ultimate reward of sport is in playing the game the way it's supposed to be played, and expending every ounce of effort and every gram of talent at your disposal in pursuit of your cause, no matter the circumstances, no matter the score. Ben Watson ran down Champ Bailey because that's what you do. You run a longer distance to catch a player who's supposed to be faster than you when everybody knows you can't do it, and even if you do it probably won't matter. You do it because when you learn the game, and learn it right, it's a reflex. You do it because at the end, win or lose, you can look in the mirror and know that you didn't cheat yourself, or your teammates.
You do it because that, my friends, is the essence of sport.
