By Michael Wilbon
Washington Post Columnist
Monday, Jan. 30, 2000; Page D1

ATLANTA – Two teams many people didn't want to be here created the Greatest Ending in Super Bowl History. The Tennessee Titans' Kevin Dyson, looking for another miracle at game's end, came up 36 inches short, unable to free himself from the clutches of St. Louis Rams linebacker Mike Jones as time expired. Dyson just lay there for several moments, desperately stretching, crawling, hoping for one more yard even though he already was on the ground, even though the Rams were running off the field, breathless and fortunate to have won a Super Bowl by three feet.

In those last two minutes, it looked as if we were watching the Greatest Comeback in Super Bowl History, what with Steve McNair and Eddie George working frantically to turn Tennessee's 16-0 deficit into a 16-16 tie with just more than two minutes to play Sunday at the Georgia Dome. Heaven only knows why the Titans threw so many passes during the first half instead of going with their usual smash-mouth game plan. What if they had given George more than seven carries during the first half? (He had 21 in the second.)

The Rams never seem to deviate from their plan, what is now a championship plan for them. They throw it down the field. And if that fails, they throw it some more. Can you imagine a Super Bowl champion rushing for fewer yards than the 29 the Rams gained on the ground Sunday? Only five of those rushing yards came in the second half. The greatest weapon in football is having the ability to score on one play, on any one throw from anywhere on the field, at any time. The Rams appeared to be finished, drained of any real life after squandering that 16-0 lead. The Titans, having brawled their way back into a tie, had all the momentum, all the energy and perhaps even control of Super Bowl XXXIV.

Then the Rams let loose with a 73-yard pass. Touchdown, ballgame, championship. The Rams did it to the Tampa Bay Buccaneers last week to get here; they did it to the Titans Sunday to win the Big One. There's nothing as spectacular as seeing a perfect spiral launched from the arm of a guy who can throw it 60 yards in the air. Kurt Warner, already living a dream, completed this fantasy of a season by going deep to Isaac Bruce for the winning touchdown. And a game that was much less than art for three quarters was compelling in the end, right down to Tennessee's desperate lunge toward the end zone with no time left on the clock.

Rams Coach Dick Vermeil was so certain Tennessee's Dyson was going to get into the end zone on that last play, he said he was ready to pick up the phone to call offensive coordinator Mike Martz to say, "Get the next three [offensive] plays ready for overtime." Vermeil took a deep breath, knowing how dead-even this game had been, knowing how close this game came to going to overtime, or to being a Tennessee victory.

"Championship games are supposed to be tough, hard games," Vermeil said. "I am humbled by this."

No Super Bowl had ended with the ball on the 1 and the final seconds ticking away.

The Rams did what they do with the game on the line – wing it. The Titans did what they do when they had the game in their sights – churn it. There was Warner throwing for a Super Bowl-record 414 yards. There was McNair, needing a completion in the final 15 seconds, pulling away from two St. Louis linemen with the strength of Zeus to stay upright and complete the pass that set up one of the most dramatic endings in professional football history.

"I thought I was going to get in," Dyson said. Of course he did. He's the man who took that kickoff-lateral to The House for a winning touchdown in the final seconds to beat the Buffalo Bills in an AFC first-round playoff game. The Titans work on that final pass play in practice, you should know. Every defense expects a team to try to throw to a receiver already in the end zone on a final play, and it floods the end zone with defenders.

But the Titans run a play where a lithe, speedy receiver such as Dyson can get one-on-one with a bigger, presumably slower linebacker such as Jones. Dyson catches, Dyson makes a move, Dyson gets in. That's the way it's drawn up. "We work on it all the time," he said. "All I saw [when he caught the ball] was yellow paint." He was referring, of course, to the end zone. "I thought I'd break free," he said. "But he got me on the foot and wrapped me up. . . . Man, to come this far and be a half-yard short, it's just a sick feeling."

Asked if he'd made the biggest tackle of his life, Jones said: "It won the Super Bowl, so it has to be. . . . I knew I was on top of him. All I had to do was get him down, and I did. I knew when I tackled him, he wasn't close enough [to the end zone] to get his arm in."

Instead of McNair being the hero, it was Warner. Again Warner. All season Warner. It's Warner's world. Jones's tackle keeps the story going. But I should admit, by halftime, I was starting to wonder about Warner, the guy who bagged groceries, played in the Arena League, played in NFL Europe, was holding a clipboard when Trent Green went down in the preseason, and finally went from scrub to star, nobody to cover boy, Bags to Riches. Still, at halftime, I was wondering if opposing teams were starting to develop a book on Warner.

For four months, the guy confounded the league. Then, out of nowhere, the Buccaneers had his number for an entire 11-6 game, and the Titans kept him bottled up in the first half of the Super Bowl.

Okay, the Rams led 9-0 at halftime. There's not a team in the NFL that wouldn't take a 9-0 lead at halftime. But, oh, it could have been so much more. The Rams made five trips inside the Titans' 20-yard line and came away with three field goals because Warner had 11 passes inside the 20 and threw incomplete on all 11. It actually went to 0 for 12 in the second half. Outside the red zone, Warner was 19 for 24. He was Phil Simms against Denver. Inside the red zone, he was Tony Eason against the the Chicago Bears. Maybe Warner got confused and thought he was still on a 55-yard Arena Football League field.

On Lucky No. 13 – also Warner's uniform number – he was throwing from inside the red zone once again. This time he found Holt on third down for a touchdown and a 16-0 lead. The Rams would need every one of those points because the Titans mounted the biggest comeback in Super Bowl history to tie the score at 16.

Then Warner came back one more time, on the first play from scrimmage after the Titans had tied it, and threw 73 yards to Bruce. Everybody in the Georgia Dome felt that was the killer play, except the guys in those strange blue-and-white uniforms, who make the oldest play in the book come true. They didn't lose – they just ran out of time, leaving us all with that vision of Kevin Dyson straining to lean into the end zone, and keep alive a game that only needed one thing: an encore.