On the second night of the new year, college football conjured up its own Super Bowl, and Joe Paterno said it was good. The National Broadcasting Company said it was great, and the bookies liked it too. Las Vegas Numerologist Bob Martin dubbed it the national "get even" bowl, one last plunge for everyone who had impulsively taken or given the points in any of the traditional Jan. 1 bowls, like the U.S.F.&G. Sugar Bowl.
The Sunkist Fiesta Bowl, not to be confused with the John Hancock Sun Bowl, paid No. 2 Penn State and No. 1 Miami $4.8 million to have it out like men at Tempe, Ariz., in prime time. They did, and the singular game they played, which came down to a final pass in the shadow of the goal line, shocked college football's tired old system like a giant anabolic steroid. Miami was the shockee.
Celebrated for their wantonness, the favored Hurricanes breezed into Phoenix wearing paramilitary camouflage and murderous expressions. "Football players aren't studying to be priests," reasoned Defensive Tackle Jerome Brown. "They're learning to kill." How they were killed instead, 14-10, was an amazement difficult to fathom completely, though it had something to do with faulty stereotypes on both sides and the fact that Penn State caught just as many passes from Miami's quarterback (five) as from its own.
Famed for their virtuous works and pious Coach Paterno ("St. Joe" to Miami counterpart Jimmy Johnson), the Nittany Lions were outrushed moderately and outpassed spectacularly throughout a battle that only they appeared to be waging from the edge of a cliff. For a considerable time, Penn State's offensive star was not D.J. Dozier but Punter John Bruno. While it is true that, in the final analysis, the Lions seemed a bit smarter than Miami, it is truer that they were a lot meaner.
On consecutive plays in the first quarter, the Hurricanes were made to fumble twice, losing something more than the ball the second time. Thereafter, tiptoeing Miami receivers represented the advancemen for Heisman Quarterback Vinny Testaverde's worsening nightmare, detonated by the interceptions of large Linebackers Shane Conlan and Pete Giftopoulos but generated by the deceptions of miniature Defensive Backs Ray Isom and Duffy Cobbs.
"Every play," Cobbs said, "it seemed Vinny was staring me right in the eyes. We'd be faking a man-to-man coverage and I'd be saying to myself, 'I hope he believes it, I hope he believes it.' He'd chuckle just before the snap, and we'd all think, 'Good,' and switch to a zone." Conlan tried to restrain a laugh, not very hard. "For a week," he said, "all we heard was how great and fast their receivers were, and how short and slow our secondary was. Well, those little guys rocked them. That was the key to the game."
Last year, when Penn State lost the title to Oklahoma in the Orange Bowl, 25-10, it was starting Quarterback John Shaffer's most horrendous game and first defeat since seventh grade. A memory of the aftermath was how bravely he stood up to it. Though this performance probably reinforced the pros' small opinion of Shaffer, there was one touchdown drive in the middle of the game that suggested why he is 66-1 since junior high. "When it's really hanging out there," Paterno said, "Shaffer can do it." The quarterback said, "I feel total ecstasy."