No Denying `Paper Champions' Label Fits Martin Fennelly, The Tampa Tribune, published 24 December 2002 They played like ... Hey, there's no way around it. Like paper champions. Lee Flowers, the elastic-tongued Pittsburgh Steeler, could have stood by his words from last season. The Bucs lived - and died - down to them. Somebody had to blink in the race for home field throughout the NFC playoffs. But the Bucs did more than blink. They closed their eyes and put four quarters over them in a 17-7 loss. If Hank Williams Jr. is asking, no, they weren't ready for some football. Armed with the first-ever NFC South title, the Bucs went deep south. They were supposed to leave a present under the tree, not in the litter box. It was the kind of night that made you believe an 11-4 team actually can have its back against the wall. To roll out this flat, to put up this stinker at your house, this late, on this stage, with so much on the line, and against a team with a guy calling you names, was stunning. Nate Webster tried to punk it out with Steeler Joey Porter during pregame. Warren Sapp tried to strut through their stretch, but Jerome Bettis gently shoved him out of the way. After that, Pittsburgh kept on pushing. Now what do you do with Lee Flowers' trash? ``I guess we eat it,`` Bucs safety John Lynch said. In a matter of seconds, it all changed. The Bucs might have gone from home to road, from bye to bye-bye. We'll never know if Brad Johnson would have made a difference. But something occurred to us. Will the Bucs ever make a difference? From the first play, Pittsburgh said the night belonged to the intruders. Tommy Maddox's pass beat Ronde Barber, the Bucs' best cover man, for 41 yards. Pittsburgh soon led 7-0. Two plays after that, 51 seconds later, they led 14-0. The game was less than four minutes old. King's head and arm, substituting for Brad Johnson's head and back, sealed the deal. The Bucs hoped for the kind of magic King provided three seasons ago, when he lit up a Monday in his starting debut against Minnesota and eventually took the Bucs to the NFC title game. Ah, magic. The play on King's second snap, a sideline toss for Keyshawn Johnson, developed like molasses. King double-clutched. He later said his arm was bumped. Did he see Pittsburgh cornerback Chad Scott? Scott saw King. And that was that. The Bucs cleared out. After Scott's interception return, the crowd went to sleep and this affair settled into a dream-like state you can only get from preseason. We wondered aloud about the Steelers and Eagles. You know, if Pennsylvania ever secedes from the NFL, the Bucs could do some serious damage. Somewhere in there, Mike Alstott fumbled, of course, and King's replacement, Rob Johnson, did the same, to kill promising drives. Keyshawn caught a touchdown pass to erase the shutout, if not the embarrassment. And there was a penalty on Dexter Jackson. How, exactly, does one get penalized for taunting when losing 17-0? And there were those three second-quarter points Jon Gruden took off the scoreboard, a move that appeared to be clicking until Alstott's 10 fickle fingers intervened. But Gruden's move told you about this night. Second quarter and already he was that desperate. He saw rigor mortis setting in. But you could used the juice from truck batteries from here to Green Bay (gulp) or Philadelphia (gulp squared) and it wouldn't have mattered. The Bucs were dead. But how dead? In 1999, the Bucs went out to Oakland in December and lost 45-0 to the Raiders - Gruden's Raiders. They still made the title game. That's the optimist's view. The pessimist is looking at the average temperatures in Green Bay and Philadelphia in January. For now, no champagne. Just Champaign, Ill. John Lynch opened a small door in his locker. Inside sat an NFC South Champs hat. Unused. ``Now I don't want to wear it,`` Lynch said. Here is the test. Monday appeared to be a dreadful step back. The Bucs need to say different. They have been bouncing back after losses all season. Maybe Green Bay loses and Bucs can still grab a bye by beating the Bears. But will that make a difference? Will this team make a difference? Suddenly, we're asking. Again.