Bucs sing praises of Dungy on special day Martin Fennelly, The Tampa Tribune, published 3 January 2000 A division title won, that bye assured, two Bucs crept up behind the man who got them there and dumped a cooler of water on him. The sea did not part, not even for Tony Dungy. He was all wet. And yet he was warm. Even the weather seemed to agree with the winners - your winners. On any other Jan. 2 at Soldier Field, they would have had to walk across a frozen field, probably to the losing locker room. Now the sun was on their faces. They put on their NFC Central hats and danced their way to a private party under the stands after they beat the Chicago Bears, 20-6. For the first time in 18 years, the Tampa Bay Buccaneers were champions of something. The man most responsible allowed himself more than the usual smile after the seventh win in eight games. He even unfolded his arms, which for Tony Dungy is like doing Mambo No. 5. It doesn't seem that long ago his team was 3-4. Non-believers were sharpening blades and looking at Dungy's neck. When was an offensive mind going to come to town? Where was somebody like Steve Spurrier? Steve Spurrier lost his third consecutive game on Saturday. Tony Dungy is going to the playoffs with his kind of football team. You might not like everything about it, but it wins. And more than anyone else, Tony Dungy is why. BUC AFTER BUC mentioned the same words on Sunday after they earned a week off and a right to dream of a Super Bowl. Consistency. Convictions. Beliefs. Perseverance. It usually brought them back to that other wod: Dungy. "None of this happens without him," Bucs linebacker Derrick Brooks said. "None of it." Bucs General Manager Rich McKay chose the last game of Dungy's fourth regular season to remember the fourth game of his first. At the top, McKay recalled the bottom. It made sense to McKay because to him, Dungy was the same then as now. In Dungy's first season, his team was 0-5, then 1-8. "I still think his finest hour as a coach was his first year," McKay said. "We were 0-4 and we'd just had this horrible loss to Seattle ... that could have been Tony's first win as a head coach. But the sky hadn't fallen. Not to Tony. He's just never approached it that way." The sky never falls in Tony Dungy's world. It didn't this season when he benched his quarterback. It didn't when he lost two quarterbacks to injuries, leaving him with a rookie in charge. The sky never fell. Not even after a 45-0 loss at Oakland. The Bucs flew home. Even though he never entered the cockpit, Tony Dungy was flying that plane. "It's human nature to react emotionally," Dungy said early this week. "But usually when you step back and look at things it's never as bad as it seems and it's never quite as good as it seems. You have to be able to be critical when you're winning and still have the glass half-full and be positive when you're not winning." The reason his team is a champion now is that the players think the same way. That first season, many a Buc wondered when heads would roll, when Dungy would start screaming. Instead, nothing changed. He never changed. He told them what they were doing wrong - even when they won. He told them when they weren't playing well. He told them when they were close. He never lied to them. That's how you make believers. It's the fourth season and they've all bought in. That's why 3-4 didn't seem like a mountain. That's how a roller coaster can seem like a straight line. Tony Dungy folded his arms. He said they were close. And he'd never lied. "And so at 3-4 you have a choir behind you, saying "Amen," " Dungy said. THE CHOIR WAS in the locker room. You could hear their infernal racket, the joy that comes when you gain something no one can take away. Outside the room, Tony Dungy stood in his championship hat and thought about 3-4, about the injured quarterbacks. He thought about McKay and the Glazers, the people who hired him though he'd never head-coached anything. "You just feel like people had faith in you," Dungy said. "And to win a championship is like saying I appreciate the faith you had." We still wonder about that offense. We wonder how it can get what it needs to get done done. A lot of times you wind up thinking about what Tony Dungy teams can't do. Sunday was a day to admit what they have done. Four years ago, when Dungy arrived, the Bucs hadn't been to the playoffs in 14 seasons. This generally was considered the worst organisation in sports. Now there is talent. Now there are filled stadiums. And on the Bucs sideline is a man wearing a headset, arms folded, who always sees cups half-full when we see them half-empty. Sunday, there was a water cooler filled to the brim. It had his name on it in large letters. Amen to that.