CHARLOTTE, N.C. - Time was, they were money in the bank.
Time was, they were an immovable force, as treacherous as a mountain pass and as difficult to maneuver as a desert. They were quicksand and broken glass. They were the fierce protectors of the realm, and they were unassailable.
They were the defenders of the Tampa Bay Bucs, and they were something to behold.
Once.
Long ago.
Today, the season lies in broken pieces at their feet. Once more they held possibilities and promise in their once-sure hands, and once more they dropped it. Another game has been lost, another lead has gone unprotected.
And so it is that a season fritters away, one blown coverage, one missed tackle at a time. This time, it was the Carolina Panthers who made driving downfield against the Bucs for the winning points look as simple as a game of catch in the park.
Time was, this would have been shocking. Time was, you would not have believed your eyes.
No more. Watching the Bucs snatch defeat from victory has become a familiar sight. This season, this has not been a great defense. With the game in the balance, it has not even been a good one. It has been meek, pliable. It has gone from being bouncers to being doormen.
"I don't understand that," Bucs coach Jon Gruden said. "I credit Carolina, but that's two weeks in a row."
Actually, it's worse. The Bucs defense couldn't stop Carolina in overtime earlier in the season. It couldn't stop the Colts with a 21-point lead. It couldn't stop the Saints after getting new life. It couldn't stop the 49ers at all.
This time, the collapse was stunning not only in its occurrence but in its ease. It took the Colts 95 seconds to drive 80 yards. It took six plays. It took precious little effort.
This was like watching a track meet, one sprint after another, all the way down the field. The Bucs had every advantage a team could want. Time. Distance. Scoreboard. Situation. Reputation. Momentum. Need.
The Panthers had to go 80 yards, without timeouts, without Stephen Davis, against a defense with five Pro Bowlers. They had Jake Delhomme, who had seemed wobbly most of the afternoon, at quarterback. They had an offense running in place; in its three previous drives, the Panthers had minus-7 yards, two sacks and an interception.
And it was easy.
This was a drive with no stop signs and no speed bumps. Had it taken it, the Panthers could have driven from here to Raleigh and back. Ten yards here. Twelve yards there. Twenty-nine here. Then 22. Then five for the touchdown. Quick as this. Easy as that. Carolina never faced a third down on that crucial drive; it faced only one second down.
This is how a defense is measured, not in yardage surrendered or points allowed, not in sack records or turnover streaks, not in what it did yesterday or the day before. Greatness is measured in those moments that separate winning and losing, when a season can be resuscitated, when all previous mistakes can be pardoned. At such a time, a great defense closes the door a great percentage of the time.
This one doesn't.
Not anymore.
"We play to get into that situation," safety John Lynch said. "We take great pride in being able to protect a lead like that."
Time was, they were the toughest kids on the block. Time was, they were the royal guard, protecting the crown jewels, the Musketeers, protecting the king. Time was, they were the Hydra. It didn't matter how many heads an opponent cut off; another one was bound to get them.
Time was, someone was going to make a play. You could count on it. No one stepped on necks like the Bus defense. There was something about a lead that made it faster, stronger, tougher, meaner. It owned such moments.
Remember last season in Philadelphia, when Ronde Barber's interception return snuffed out the Eagles' last breath? Remember the Rams game, when Derrick Brooks picked off a pass and returned it to the end zone? For years, that's what followers of the Bucs expected from their defense. That's what defenders of the Bucs expected from themselves. A sack. A tackle. A turnover. Something, somewhere, by someone.
The very blueprint of the Bucs team says defense is supposed to be the great equalizer, doesn't it? That's the way it has always been. Even on days when the offense moves uphill, as it did most of Sunday, even on days when the special teams run in circles, as they did, the defense is supposed to make it all better. It is supposed to make small leads look big. It is supposed to make end zones impenetrable.
Instead, the players of this defense sit around the locker room, glassy eyed, trying to explain what went wrong yet again, and why it keeps happening. They still talk with a royal air, as if reputations are forever instead of ever-changing, as if the season will wake up and straighten itself out at any moment. They snap and they snarl, and Warren Sapp demands "next" at two questions out of three, and Dwight Smith tells you to look at the films.
And you think, gee, wouldn't it have been nice to see some of that surliness when the game still had a pulse?
His back against the wall, Monte Kiffin stood in the locker room and tried to absorb the blame. Honestly, he did.
"It's disappointing," he said. "It's not like it's the first time."
So much was squandered Sunday. Had the Bucs won, they'd have been one game out of the division lead, and we'd all be talking about the sack record, and there would be the fresh feeling of new life to the season.
