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ST. LOUIS - Time? The Rams had plenty of time.
There was 30 seconds to go, and they had a timeout left. There was time enough to take a shot, maybe two, at being something special.
Place? The Rams were in perfect position.
They were 15 yards away, for goodness' sake. Forty-five feet. They were as close as the next-door neighbor's lawn. You have made longer putts.
Skill? As always, the Rams have talent to burn.
Marshall Faulk was there. Torry Holt over there. Isaac Bruce there. There was razzle and dazzle and sizzle and style.
What more could the Rams have wanted? They had the Panthers backpedaling and the NFC Championship Game in their grip. They had momentum and circumstance and homefield and, it appeared, last ups.
Turns out, the Rams had everything they needed.
Except courage.
As is their custom, the Rams walked quietly away from another NFL playoff Saturday evening. This time, they left because their coach did not have the stomach to continue playing. This time, they refused to go for the other team's throat, and they wound up grasping their own.
The epitaph: The Rams Had Heartz, But Martz Lacked Smartz.
Of all the plays, of all the moments in a 29-23 double-overtime loss, this is the one that will linger around St. Louis and a Rams team that once again failed to achieve the sum of its talent.
The day Martz lost his nerve.
The day the Rams blew their comeback.
Remember, we are talking about the Rams, a team known for strut and swagger, and of Martz, a coach known for aggressiveness and arrogance. And there they were, close enough to heaven to hear the angels, and they would not approach the door.
They were on the Panthers 15, and the Rams did nothing. Faulk had just run for a first down, and the Rams did nothing. There was half a minute to go, and the Rams did nothing.
There they were, the team that bills itself as the Greatest Show on Turf, standing 15 yards from the end zone. And they never fired a shot. They let the clock run.
Why? Because Martz was thinking about extra periods instead of extra points.
"I was really concerned about throwing it into the end zone and having a ball tipped or bumped," Martz said. "I just wanted to get this thing into overtime."
Well, congratulations are in order, one supposes. On the other hand, the Rams finished second.
As much as anyone, Martz should know this. Football is a risk. The end zone is a risk. The forward pass is risky. Then again, what's the old saying? Fair heart never advanced to the title game?
"I was very sure about that decision," Martz said. "I don't regret that decision."
Oh, come on. The Rams ran three plays after the two-minute warning. Three. Say what you want about the Rams, whose talent exceeds their accomplishments over the past half-dozen seasons, but they are not a team constructed to shy from an end zone. They are a high-octane track team. Watching the clock tick down, fretting potential mistakes, hoping for a tie, does not become them.
There were 15 yards to go. Fifteen. We're not talking about a Hail Mary situation. We're talking about a quick slant. A screen to Faulk. A fade to Holt. We're talking about playing the darn game.
This is the mystifying thing about Martz, a coach who comes across as if he thinks it was his idea to invent third down. His team is always dangerous, but never quite as dangerous in the big games.
There is something about Martz that suggests he has sipped from the well of Sam Wyche, and is therefore intent on showing he can outsmart, not merely outplay, the opposition.
Consider Saturday's game, when the Rams spent much of the afternoon botching their opportunities. Martz was awful in the red zone, ignoring Holt and treating Marc Bulger as if he was the NFL's newest goal-line threat. Then there is Martz's continuing folly of occasionally appearing to forget that Faulk is, in fact, on his team.
Now, remember this: Martz is the guy the Rams wanted so badly to be their coach that they essentially shoved Dick Vermeil toward retirement.
It's a shame. The Rams are so talented, so occasionally breathtaking, that their run should have included more. They should have had people throwing the word dynasty at them.
The Panthers, by comparison, don't take your breath away. But they don't hyperventilate, either. They are a hungry, resilient team that keeps plugging even when they wobble early, or when they lose their best offensive player in Stephen Davis, or when they seem to be on the ropes. They squeeze every ounce out of their ability, and what finer compliment is there than that?
Well, there is this one. The Panthers keep playing. They are now one game from the Super Bowl.
The Rams?
They're still somewhere out on the field, watching the clock, waiting for something special to happen.
Someday, perhaps, they will dare to be great.