MIAMI - The disapproval fell like stones, heavy and sharp at the edges, designed to inflict as much pain as possible upon contact.
The booing began somewhere in the upper deck, harsh and judgmental, and the volume increased as it passed each row. It was meant for one person, and it was the sound of rejection, of unacceptance for his passing, his performance, his person.
Blast you, Brock Berlin.
How dare you not be Ken Dorsey?
It was in the middle of the third quarter, and time appeared to be running out on Berlin already. Miami fans, accustomed to seeing excellence at quarterback, had seen enough of the new guy. Berlin had spent most of his night battered and bewildered, and now he was being booed.
Funny thing.
Berlin responded as if he were being serenaded.
On a warm September night, in a game that seemed lost, on a team that seemed misguided, Berlin became a player. It was then, with the crowd's anger cascading over him, with his team's poise shredded, Berlin bailed out a team, quieted a crowd and salvaged a season.
It was a shocking comeback and a startling transformation. Miami trailed Florida by 33-10 at one point, and Berlin looked like a colossal mistake, a hand-me-down quarterback who had brought his disappointment with him from Florida to Miami.
Not long thereafter, Berlin had turned into Joe Montana, and the Hurricanes had won 38-33, and Florida would spend the rest of the month cursing the day he got away.
"It's a confidence booster for me," Berlin said. "To show my teammates that, hey, I'm the biggest competitor out there. That was a neat way to come back and show them that I am a fighter."
Over the final 21 minutes, Berlin was sensational. He threw 21 times, completing 18, for 249 yards and two touchdowns. More than that, he changed the way his teammates looked at him in the huddle.
This is how a player turns into a quarterback. For 21/2 quarters, Berlin was the wrong man in the wrong place, and Miami fans were ready to cheer anyone else. Berlin hit only nine of his first 25 passes for 71 yards, and he had two passes intercepted and a misthrown lateral returned for a touchdown against his former teammates.
At the time, Berlin looked as far from the efficient Dorsey as anyone could imagine. He seemed tentative, rattled. When he did make a good throw, his teammates had drops, and the offense seemed sputtering and uneven. Berlin blamed his emotions. The emotional fans in the stands, on the other hand, blamed Berlin.
As for Berlin, he says he never heard the boos. A pity, because he may never get another opportunity.
For Berlin, it was a wonderful way to say hello. For his former teammates, however, it was a particularly bitter way to see the night end.
For most of the night, the Gators seemed poised to shock those who pay attention to college football. Florida entered as a 14-point underdog, but it continually made big plays.
The charmed coach? That appeared to be Florida's Ron Zook. The explosive team? That was Florida. The team chasing what it used to be? That seemed to be Miami.
That's how easy everything can change in college football, and how quickly it can change back. One game, and suspicions change places with expectations. One result, and a beleaguered coach such as Zook is getting calls from Mensa. One half, and a quarterback's hold on the starting job seems shaky.
Now? Now, instead of talking about how Zook had his team ready to play, how he had the Gators convinced they could walk into the Orange Bowl and win despite the stars on the Miami roster, they'll break down his calls. Why with third and 1 at the Miami 3 did Zook choose to roll out instead of run up the middle? What was with the two-point attempt when his team led 16-10? And how do you explain inserting Gavin Dickey at quarterback when the Gators led by one in the fourth quarter?
And, why, for goodness' sake, couldn't Zook convince Berlin to stick around?
Consider: The boos began at 6:02, when Berlin jogged back toward the huddle. It's fair to assume fans hated the sight.
The sound changed quickly. Berlin seemed at home in the 'Canes' hurry-up offense, and he hit seven in a row, including a 26-yarder to Kevin Beard. A two-point conversion made it 33-18, still a long way to go.
But moments later, Berlin was back at it. He hit Beard for 62 yards to set up another touchdown, and it was 33-25. Six minutes had passed since the boos.
The next series, it was Berlin again, hitting six out of seven, including a 6-yard touchdown to Ryan Moore. The score was 33-32, Miami.
By now, the fans were into it. Boo Berlin? Who? Us?
One series later, it was more of the same. Berlin hit three out of four and ran for a first down on fourth and 1. Miami, 38-33.
Who is booing now? No one. No one is looking at him funny in the huddle, either.
