Super Bowl Monday_ From the Persian Gulf to the Shores of West Florida - Adam Lazarus [125]
“When we adopted our son a few years later,” DeHaven said. “His middle name is ‘Scott’ and that is derived from Scott Norwood. I just felt like some day I’d be able to tell my son, ‘You’re named for a guy that suffered one of the greatest defeats you could have in a sporting event, and the loss was put on him, and he conducted himself with such incredible grace that, well, this is a great lesson on how you want to conduct yourself as you go through life.”
Each time DeHaven approached the Bills kicker, Norwood rebuked him and turned back to give his interviewer a reflective, thoughtful response.
“I’m sure it will never get to a point where I’ll ever forget it,” he said. “It’s something I know I’ll carry with me in the future, but when I take future kicks, this won’t matter. I’ll just try to give each one of my best. Unfortunately, there are no guarantees out there.”
For many of Norwood’s teammates, the future was also on their minds. Confident that that night in Tampa would not be their last taste of championship football, they looked ahead to training camp in July, the 1991 regular season, and a berth in Super Bowl XXVI to be played at the Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome in Minneapolis.
“To say it’s very disappointing is an understatement,” said linebacker Ray Bentley. “But life will go on. It’s just a football game. We’re already talking about coming back. We know now what it takes to get here and what it takes to win here. We’ve already got our sights set on Minnesota.”
Not every Bills player shared those feelings of optimism—at least not in the minutes and hours following the narrowest defeat in Super Bowl history.
“I was really physically sick afterwards. I felt awful because I had been there since ‘86, and I knew what it took to get there,” Steve Tasker said. “It seemed to me like we had climbed Mount Everest and been about ready to plant the flag in the top of it, and we slide all the way to the bottom. We had to start over again.”
Seventy-two-year-old Bills owner Ralph Wilson had waited a quarter century just to see his team reach the Super Bowl. He was just as forlorn as Buffalo’s players and coaches; thoughts of a repeat journey were too exhausting and of little comfort.
“Who knows what’s going to happen next year,” Wilson said the following morning. “I don’t know whether we’re going to be back in the Super Bowl next year. We may never get back again. That’s just the nature of this crazy game.”
Beside the Giants’ feuding co-owners Wellington and Tim Mara, and General Manager George Young, Bill Parcells accepted the Lombardi Trophy from Commissioner Tagliabue.
“I realized a long time ago that God’s playing in some of these games,” Parcells told ABC’s Brent Musburger. “And he was on our side today. I thought both teams were valiant. I thought we played as well as we could. I don’t think there’s too much to choose between the two teams. If we played tomorrow, they’d probably win 20-19. But I’m very proud of my guys.”
Super Bowl championship tee shirts and hats circulated the Giants’ locker room, as did dozens of reporters, interviewing anyone and everyone. Lawrence Taylor, Carl Banks, Pepper Johnson, and the rest of the Giants defense explained how they limited the Bills offense to just seventeen points. Members of the Giants offensive line talked about dominating the line of scrimmage during the third quarter.
Stephen Baker gave a shout-out to his seventh-grade history teacher, Mr. Hughsley, the man who told him he would never grow up to be a football player. Matt Bahr talked about his kicking (what amounted to be) the game-winning field goal for a second-straight week. He then expressed empathy for Scott Norwood.
“I wanted anything else to happen than for Scott to miss that kick, simply because it would’ve taken on and did take on the focus that it seemed the