Sunday, 9:19 p.m.
In metaphor, you may think of the game as a spiral, shimmering in the lights as it floats toward you.
You square your shoulders. You stretch your fingers. You feel the ball hit against your palms.
And you drop it.
In front of your teammates, in front of your fans, in front of your television audience. You watch the ball bound off of the turf and lie there on the grass, a dropped opportunity, a chance that slipped through your fingers.
This was the best view of the Bucs' 32-18 loss to the New York Giants Sunday afternoon. All the Bucs had to do was to reach out, grab it and hold on. Simple as that for a man who makes
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