Sidelines
IT was just that kind of day. It just wasn't going to happen. Traffic crawled. It inched. It sat. Then it rained. No umbrellas. Of course, no umbrellas. It was just one of those days
And your team. Your team was so close, but just far enough away. You could feel it. Every shot was answered. Every hope disappeared. It could have happened, but it didn't. It was just that kind of day.
In the end, as it struck 0:00, Hawaii stood and took it, stood and swallowed its medicine. Boise State headed for the corner of the stadium filled with orange shirts and ringing chants. Hawaii waited, and watched them go.
UH took a long time to warm up, too long and then not quite by enough. The crowd streamed out as the final seconds ticked, like a waterfall in reverse. Those who still sat in disbelief ached with frustration, venting insults, berating yellow flags that never came. In other games, against Fresno, there would have been a late flag to turn the tide. But it never came. It just never came.
"It just wasn't our day, basically," running back Mike Bass said.
It wasn't. Not when the offense just couldn't get rolling in the first half, settling for field goals. Not when the defense got turnovers and sacks, only to see that it just wasn't enough, not in the end, when Boise State could score one last time. In other games, on other days, things were different. But not this time.
No last drive. No final stop. No one last interception. Just a regular football game. Just a loss.
The streak was over. The luck was over. The magic was gone. They were human again.
It was close. They came close but just couldn't will themselves past the wall, couldn't hit the zone again. The defense created bouncing balls. (La'anui Correa tips to Mike Iosua, a great game by both of them. Another Sean Butts blocked kick. And Matt Wright running with the ball.)
The offense went to Channon Harris on fourth down and the chains moved. In the third quarter, Hawaii was alive. They were going to do it.
"It was a different game in the second half," defensive coordinator Kevin Lempa said.
Then the gambler gambled. June Jones rolled the dice. And he should have. He needed to. On One of Those Days, you have to take a chance. But Bass' halfback option was short, and Jones opted for a long field goal.
He trusts his kicker. He trusts the defense.
But it just wasn't going to happen.
Dink. Dunk. Another hard run by Brock Forsey. And another.
"They rode their horse, 36," Lempa said of that last drive. Then Forsey scored. It was like there was nothing UH could do.
"They're good," defensive end Correa said flatly. "They had some unreal catches. Those guys just beat us fair and square."
Give Hawaii credit. They stood up and took it, faced it, looked themselves in the mirror.
"We were good enough to run the table," Nick Rolovich said quietly. "It's just disappointing."
SET Ashley Lelie's watch fast. Lock Rolo in a room and give him the halftime speech at about 5:45. Change all Hawaii home games to an 8:05 kickoff.
Tell the defense they're down by 11. Some teams fall apart in the second half. UH comes together. Last night it came together. But it just wasn't going to happen.
The stadium shook again last night, shook in the second half as the rain fell, rumbled when the guys in green came alive. What took them so long?
There are no answers on this kind of night. Hawaii has won these kind of games. Last night, they lost one.
"We had our chances," Jones said, "even on the last throw."
On the way home, everybody's pants were wet. Traffic inched. It crawled. It just wouldn't move.
Kalani Simpson's column runs Sundays, Tuesdays and Fridays.
He can be reached at ksimpson@starbulletin.com