As time drained away on Saturday night, you were sure there were two glum men sitting on bar stools somewhere, pennants limp in their hands, watching the last-minute results.
Man No. 1: We fumbled too often.
Man No. 2: We didn't even take our own state!
No. 1: I mean, what was the point of running this whole time?
No. 2: I'm afraid a buncha people will fry after this.
No. 1: They can start with that idiot Spurrier.
No. 2: What?
By Monday the game was over and the politicians were deep into overtime. The town belonged to them again, except for one guy standing on the corner, selling T-shirts that read NO RECOUNT NECESSARY: FLORIDA STATE 30, FLORIDA 7.