The sun emerged from behind the clouds on our side of Dolphin Stadium, Section 222, on Sunday. There were about six minutes left in the game. The Fins were winning, so we forgave the rain that had sprayed us earlier. It was the first time we had seen the sun all day.
The whole sun metaphor seemed way too obvious, something you’d read in one of those books that try to stretch the meaning of hope to cover football.
So, it didn’t surprise me when the Ravens tied the game with the no-win Dolphins with less than a minute to go.
Heading into overtime, the crowd was uncertain. For the first time since the game started, one Dolphin fan watched with a paper bag over his head and the eyeholes cut out.
Finally, when the remarkable pass was completed to the remakable receiver who ran the remarkable lenlngth of the field, the guy shed the bag. Then he rose to his feet. The Dolphins won 22 to 16.
I don’t remember if the sun was shining when we left. But with the fans, both boozy-drunk and happy-drunk, whooping and screaming around us, it certainly felt like it.