SEATTLE – In an elevator on the ground floor of Husky Stadium around 4:30 p.m. Pacific time on Saturday, five people stood around one guy's phone to follow an immeasurable drama ongoing 2,213 miles to the southeast.
There, a 21-year-old kicker stood in Clemson, S.C., amid 81,048 fans with about 162,096 lungs, all capable of enough noise to ransack anyone's nerves. But for his holder, the punter Ryan Winslow, the kicker looked lonely there, 48 unforgiving yards from the goal post. The home coach, Dabo Swinney, iced him with a timeout. The people in the elevator waited. Literally countless possibilities stood in the balance, from there to here, because the outcome there mattered here.
Well, Chris Blewitt, the Pitt senior, annihilated that kick. It tore through the top of the uprights with six seconds left as if it intended to be good from 60. It beat No. 2 Clemson 43-42. It triggered feelings from coast to coast and loosed a big roar in Husky Stadium upon announcement.
It also retold a fine old American tale. There are baseball Octobers and NFL Januarys and basketball Marches and Junes, all of them alluring, but there might be nothing wilder than a college football November.
A college football November Saturday always reserves the right to go all haywire. Just because a loss at Clemson seems wild doesn't mean unbeaten No. 4 Washington cannot spend the next three hours suddenly looking like the decided lesser of two teams against No. 20 Southern California. And just because a loss at Clemson and a loss at Washington seem to concoct enough wildness for one date doesn't mean you can't get to evening and see No. 3 Michigan, its own field-goal defense out on a field, lining up, straining and hoping.
Not since Oct. 19, 1985, had teams Nos. 2, 3 and 4 lost in the same college football weekend. On that day, No. 2 Michigan lost 12-10 at No. 1 Iowa, on a closing 29-yard field goal by Rob Houghtlin, after which the Michigan quarterback said, "It felt like someone reached in and pulled everything out."
Now, 31 years and one month later, that quarterback, Jim Harbaugh, coached Michigan in that same Iowa City, with his team the only remaining unbeaten Power Five team besides the fast, giant ship of No. 1 Alabama. That distinction would last only seconds longer. In a taut game that posted bruising scores such as 10-2 and 11-10, Harbaugh's offense had squeezed out only 2 yards on its final possession, bringing its total to a piddling 201, and it had punted and committed a facemask penalty, and Iowa exploded for a 21-yard drive to arrange a field goal.
Freshman Keith Duncan blasted that thing just inside the right upright, and Iowa players began romping around the field with their startling 14-13 win, soon to be joined by hordes of trespassers from the stands, the college football November having struck again. "The longer it went," Iowa coach Kirk Ferentz told reporters, "the more our guys felt, 'Hey, maybe we can do something.' "