It wasn’t supposed to happen that way. When you have a David vs. Goliath story, David is supposed to hit that big bastard in the face with a stone, everyone cheers, much drinking and getting laid ensues. Goliath isn’t supposed to take the stone on the noggin, look vaguely confused, and then knock over the kid, kick him in the stomach, and then punch him repeatedly in the nuts before putting him out of his misery.
That was not fun. That collapse was probably one of the worst sports experiences of my life. The Denver “Game that will not be named” was terrible because you could feel it was the end of an aborted era that had once held such promise.