Guts, Brains And Glory

"You know what I think of John Shaffer and D.J. Dozier? I think they're nothing," said Brown. "Shaffer thought he had a bad bowl game last year. That was nothing. After this game, he'll wish he'd graduated. The dude's about to star in a nightmare.... We don't care what people think about us, as long as we win, our fans are happy and we bring our school more money. We could care less what people think about the University of Miami."

Even Johnson got in a line. When asked about possibly recommending overtime for college games to the NCAA, he said, "I could do it, but I think that it would have more clout if St. Joe proposed it."

In short, the Canes were hard to confuse with anybody running for office in Phoenix. About a dozen of them alighted from the team plane looking like Soldier of Fortune catalog models. Miami officials insisted that the Fiesta Bowl committee redo the Hurricane locker room at the stadium, which it did. Most of the players wore sweats and T-shirts to a swank luncheon. (Penn State's players had on coats and ties.) During pre-game warm-ups, Miami players swore at Penn State players and coaches. The 6'2" Irvin went up to Ray Isom, the Lions' 5'9" safety, and laughed in his face. "You're Isom?" Irvin said with glee. "Oh, mannnnnnnn." Then the 6'1" Highsmith walked up to 5'11" corner-back Duffy Cobbs. "You shouldn't have come, you know," said Highsmith. "It's too late to turn back. You've chosen your own death now."

How could Highsmith et al. have known that Paterno and his staff, especially defensive coordinator Jerry Sandusky, had plans for them? After spending exhausting hours studying film, Sandusky concluded that if Miami's receivers are jammed at the line and walloped as a penalty for catching the ball, "their arms get about eight inches shorter," as Cobbs put it. Added Conlan, "They kept talking about how little our defensive backs were, but they'd never been hit by them."

Irvin disputed that assessment after the game. "The weather was cool," he said. "The ball was slippery." Whatever, something was separating the Hurricanes' pass catchers from the ball. They dropped seven passes—four in the first half, when Testaverde's confidence took a disastrous plunge. By halftime's 7-7 tie, Testaverde had made some miraculous scrambles, including one death-defier out of his own end zone to the Miami 24. But he hadn't thrown a touchdown pass, hadn't thrown a bomb and seemed strangely out of kilter.

In fact, his night came right out of the nightmare Brown had envisaged for Shaffer. Testaverde's first two passes of the second half were dropped, and two possessions later he was intercepted by Conlan. With the score still 7-7, Testaverde was intercepted by linebacker Pete (Gifto) Giftopoulos on Miami's first possession of the fourth quarter, and only Highsmith's brilliant sweeps kept a later drive alive. That one ended with a 38-yard Mark Seelig field goal, which put the Hurricanes ahead 10-7 with 12 minutes remaining.

The lead didn't last long. On Miami's next possession, Conlan picked off another Testaverde throw. He returned it 38 yards to the Hurricane five, a place from which even Penn State's iron-poor offense—Nittany Lion defenders gained more yards (91) than Nittany Lion receivers (53)—could score. When Dozier spun through the middle for a touchdown and a 14-10 advantage, Testaverde seemed a tragic case.

All week Miami's quarterback had been tighter than the curls in his hair. Usually self-effacing and dryly funny, he seemed like a man about to take a final in a course he had forgotten he had signed up for. But if Testaverde felt less than playful, it was no wonder. For starters, one morning somebody sent him six o'clock room service, a joke Testaverde didn't find amusing. "I'm trying to get some sleep!" he hollered to nobody in particular.

Since winning the Heisman Trophy, Testaverde has been Public Target No. 1. He has been besieged by agents seeking to represent him. Too, he was expected to be Joe Namath with knees in the Fiesta Bowl, despite not having played since his well-documented scooter snafu on Nov. 25. Had the crash affected him? Said his father. Big Al, "I'll say this, it was worse than the public ever knew."

In any case, this was definitely not the same Victory Vinny that Big Al had brought up. This Vinny left the pocket too early, seemed reluctant to look off his primary receivers, often threw before the rush was in his face and continually tried to shoehorn the ball downfield against a bevy of Penn State linebackers who often set up eight yards deeper than usual. "I think Vinny took too much on his shoulders and tried to win it on his own," said Miami assistant Art Kehoe. Said Johnson, "He wasn't as sharp as he normally is. All the distractions on him the last month had some effect. There's no way anyone can imagine schedule has been like."