Dog Day Afternoon

In the game's most unlikely sequence, holder Eric Bjornson picked a bad snap off the ground and whipped it into place just in time for kicker John Wales to send it flying. That is a surefire recipe for awfulness, but the ball fluttered over the bar for a 29-yard field goal. In those 58 games at the Orange Bowl, Miami had never surrendered more than 23 points. The Huskies scored 25 in the third quarter.

Even they couldn't understand what was happening. "John Wales came in here yesterday, and he missed every kick he went for," Bjornson said. "It was unbelievable. And Wednesday in Huskie Stadium, he couldn't hit a damn thing. But then everything was going our way."

If any team was due, it was Washington . Slapped with sanctions 13 months ago by the Pac-10 for improper loans to a player and various other violations, the Huskies easily could have unraveled. Coach Don James resigned in protest two weeks before the '93 season began. That allowed the inspirational Jim Lambright to step into a head job after 24 years as a Husky assistant. The Huskies went 7-4 last fall and came into this season harboring the dangerous ambition of the overlooked. "This is the biggest win I've ever had," Lambright said. "Of course, I've only been head coach for a little while."

As for the Hurricanes, they are now just another Top 20 team. "We have to wait and see what happens with other teams, hope they lose," said Miami defensive tackle Dwayne Johnson . "I hate that feeling."

He wasn't alone. With 2:15 left he and his teammates on defense stood, shoulders slumped. Noise drained out of the Orange Bowl as fans slipped out of every exit. The Miami offense had failed again; tackle Ricky Perry came off the field and hammered his helmet into the turf, then walked away while it spun crazily. Another Miami player came by and nudged the helmet with his toe, like someone prodding a body. No life there. He walked away.

Now Kaufman took the ball four times and chipped away. He brought the Huskies to the Hurricane seven-yard line with a three-yard burst. Huard took the snap and burrowed up the middle, right through the heart of the Hurricanes, churning legs carrying him to the final touchdown. "I could've lain there in the dirt forever," Huard said later. "Dug a grave, whatever. That's the greatest feeling I've had in a football game."

By the end all the booing and cursing from the fans had stopped. The paper tombstones so carefully pasted on the railings, the ones marking every team that had come into the Orange Bowl only to have its pride killed, had been taken down. The clock hit 0:00. Bjornson went out to shake hands with the Hurricanes. "I was looking at that scoreboard...forever," he said. "I just couldn't believe it."

Believe it. After eight years, 11 months and two weeks, it was over. The place had gone to the dogs.