They came, they saw, they left Hubert Mizell, The St.Petersburg Times, published 18 September 1995 They've been marketing that "It's a New Day in Tampa Bay," but the Bucs looked, smelled and flubbingly flunked like the same old double-digit Tampa Stadium losers. Big chance . . . miserably muffed. Seventy-one thousand came with giddy expectations. They grinned, they sang, they roared. Eager to have fun. Except for a few sections of Chicago Bears constituents, Sunday's multitude came in hopes of a glorious U-turn for a long-disastrous Bucs franchise. They arose at halftime to honor Lee Roy Selmon, the team's only Hall of Fame talent, a gentle reminder of 1979-82 when the Bucs were making NFL playoffs. People strained to remember. Passion was expansive. All across the Tampa Bay landscape, hundreds of thousands of homes tuned in mid-afternoon to a rare live telecast of a Bucs home game. All told, a million-plus locals itching to believe that Trent Dilfer, the ownership Glazers and other fresh ingredients could turn a 12-year Tampa Bay frown upside down. Wow, did they get stiffed. Dilfer threw higher, wilder passes than Vinny Testaverde ever did. Trent triggered more overthrows than a century of South American politics. Tampa Bay had seven turnovers. Chicago scored a touchdown on a blocked punt. Courtney Hawkins fumbled when hit by Casper the Ghost. "Seven turnovers and you're not going to beat a high school team," said Alvin Harper, the wide receiver Tampa Bay paid $10.6-million to jump from the Dallas Cowboys. He has missed all three Bucs games with an ankle injury. "I will be there next week." Asked if he could've made a difference in the 25-6 flop against the Bears, the 27-year-old Harper answered, "With seven turnovers, you can't win even if you've got Jerry Rice on the field." At the heart of the Bucco bombout was a crippling little miniseries that could be stamped "The Two Minutes from Hell." A precise example of how little mess-ups can lead to mass implosion. Chicago led 9-3. Bucs began their opening drive of the second half. A touchdown would take the lead. Errict Rhett ran for 2 yards, then Dilfer passed to Hawkins for 7. Third down, maybe 18 inches to go at the Tampa Bay 35. But then came the little miscue; left guard Charles McRae raising up ahead of the count. Five-yard penalty. From that germ came a terminal Bucs disease. Next play, Dilfer throws an interception to Jeremy Lincoln. Next play after that, Robert Green runs for a Bears score. Misery was in overdrive. Bucs' next offensive series, they went nowhere, then lined up to punt. Only thing was, it was a 10-man formation. Ed Brady was missing. Brady's paychecks are based on his ability to snap the football on kicking plays. But he was tardy for work, rumbling onto the field as the 25-second play clock was grinding down. Brady's snap was fine, but in the confusion Anthony Marshall of the Bears slithered past Tampa Bay blockers to smother Reggie Roby's punt and scoop it up for a touchdown. Mental breakdowns huge! In two minutes, after the McRae raise-up screw-up, Chicago's lead had gone from 9-3 to 22-3. Tampa Bay never sobered. When it ended in a 25-6 Chicago cruise, dozens of bare-chested young men, ticket-holders devoted to the Bears, arose in the east stands to chant and chant and chant as Tampa Bay players dragged out of the arena: "We came, we saw, we kicked the Bucs' a--." My prediction of a 10-6 season might've been a little high. Yeah, like Dilfer's passes were a little high. But, as Bucs coach Sam Wyche will be reminding us for the 150 hours between now and next Sunday's kickoff against the Washington Redskins, "There are 13 games left to be played." His guys better get busy. Sunday's wretched flameout makes it more difficult to argue for a new stadium. Makes it easier for anti-ballparkers to say, "Let 'em go! What's the loss?" Even on this battered morning after, I think there's legitimate hope. For better Bucs and for a new stadium. Amid all of Sunday's slop, I detected unsinkable attitudes. Dilfer stood up like the most admirable of men to admit how dreadfully he had played. He's a gamer. A fighter. Even now, with Trent leading the league in highballs, I think the kid from Fresno State is going to be okay. With so much heart and physical gusto, an errant arm should be correctable. It's him, and others. "A New Day?" . . . it's still a long way.