A Night In The Life Of A 'Canes Fan

I figure Red Sox fans spend their entire lives telling the world how terrible it is to be a BoSox fan, so I thought I would give a little window into the world of a longtime Miami Hurricanes fan.

Last night the Miami Hurricanes defeated West Virginia 22-20 in the cozy confines of the Orange Bowl. But West Virginia was really beat by the Orange Bowl Mystique.

Now I have friends, Gator fans specifically, who don't believe that there is an Orange Bowl Mystique. The believe that the Orange Bowl is no more special a place than the Swamp, than the Doak in Tallahassee, than the Horseshoe in Columbus or the Big House in Ann Arbor. They all keep telling me, the Orange Bowl is just another stadium - an old dirty one at that.

But look at what happened last night. For 48 minutes and 14 seconds, Miami played West Virginia football. For 48 minutes and 14 seconds, Miami looked mortal and the Orange Bowl looked like just another stadium.

I was standing in my living room, yelling at the TV. My girlfriend asked me if I was going to be upset for a week if Miami lost. I told her I would be pissed until next Saturday when they played FSU. She called me crazy saying it was just football. I had to correct her: it wasn't just football - it was Miami football.

At the same time, Lee Corso is jabbering on ESPN about how the Orange Bowl was quiet and how the 'Cane fans were scared. Sure we were scared. Sure we were concerned. This was not Miami football.

And then after three horrible plays left Miami in a 3rd and 13 on their final drive, Larry Coker called time out. At that point I was ranting and raving and sounding irrational, but during the time out, it all changed.

The Orange Bowl came alive.

The Super Bowls. The National Championships. The Perfect Season. The 52 game home winning streak. The images of Bob Griese, Dan Marino, Larry Csonka, Jim Kelly, Michael Irvin, Warren Sapp, Ray Lewis, and countless other Dolphin and Hurricane greats all started to make their presence felt. The history of the stadium, of Miami football, made itself real and palpable. The Orange Bowl reared itself up and said "Not in my house."

When the 'Canes broke from the timeout, there was no question anymore. They were going to win. They knew it. West Virginia knew it. The fans knew it. The Orange Bowl knew it. Call it confidence. Call it swagger. You could even call it arrogance. It was the Orange Bowl Mystique at work.

Immediately, even in my living room, I felt it. No more throwing a fit; no more being upset. Instead there was the feeling that Miami would live up to the tradition of Miami football and would not lose.

Don't convert 3rd and 13? That's ok. Throw it to Winslow on 4th and 13 and let him forever become one of those ghostly images on the field. March it down to the 6 yard line without a shred of doubt. For 1 minute and 46 seconds, Miami played Miami football.

As they made the march down the field, ESPN kept showing images of the West Virginia players laying on the turf along the sideline. Their eyes did not exude hope. Their eyes did not betray confidence. Their eyes were full of fear. After that timeout, West Virginia knew it was over. They were done. They were watching with awe and terror as the final drive played out. They knew the heart wrenching kick was coming and that it would be good. There would be no Wide Right for Miami. There would be no Wide Left. The Orange Bowl would not have allowed it last night.

West Virginia played well enough to beat Miami last night - had the game been in Morgantown. But it was in the Orange Bowl - that old dirty stadium that is full of history and mystique.

Last night The Orange Bowl said "Not in my house." The Hurricanes may have defeated the Mountaineers and got the W, but it was the Orange Bowl that beat West Virginia.

This will also be cross-posted at SportsBlog.