Upon this rock, Bucs are built Gary Shelton, The St.Petersburg Times, published 1 December 1997 The wheels were coming off. A game once firmly in control was spinning wildly away from the Tampa Bay Bucs. There had been a ridiculous ruling by the officials. Penalties were coming in pairs. The quarterback had just handed the opponent two points via aggravated silliness. The Giants were within six points, and the crowd was alive again, and there was that sinking feeling you get in that nanosecond after you drop the vase but before it breaks apart on the floor. In the middle of all the madness, however, there was Tony Dungy. His arms folded, his face blank, placid as a chess player planning his next move. Do you want to know why the Bucs beat the Giants 20-8 Sunday? Do you want to know why a winning season has arrived? Do you want to know why the Bucs are virtually assured of the playoffs? This is where you look, to this calm, unflappable presence on the sideline. This is where it starts, this new resiliency of this team, this belief that the Bucs can ride through the rough spots and regain control of a situation gone sour. So many other Bucs teams would have lost this game. The mistakes were mounting, the frustration was building, the doubts were starting. "I've been in this stadium before, and I've seen this game before, and I've seen the Bucs lose it before," general manager Rich McKay said. "The difference is Tony." This is your NFL Coach of the Year, people. Let the nominations be closed. In Tampa Bay, of course, where we had a view of the desert Dungy has led this franchise from, this is a slam dunk. Around the league, however, you hear other names. The Jets' Bill Parcells. The 49ers' Steve Mariucci. Lately, the Giants' Jim Fassel. Good grief. This game should close the argument. Fassel hurt his team more than he helped. He tried to get cute early, trying to draw the Bucs offside on fourth and 2 at the Tampa Bay 25. It didn't work, the Giants drew a 5-yard penalty, and Brad Daluiso missed a field goal. He later took a penalty rather than give the Bucs a fourth-and-1 play because he was concerned they might go for it. But when run defense is your team's strength, don't you want the other team to go for it? Most of all, there was the fourth-and-1 play early in the fourth quarter. At the time, the Giants had all the momentum and the field position. Moreover, the Bucs had just gone wiggy at their goal line when Trent Dilfer threw the Giants a safety. Why not allow him a chance to do it again? Instead, Fassel went for the first down and didn't make it, and the field position was lost. Soon after, so was the game. "Oh yeah," said Warren Sapp, rolling his eyes, "he (Fassel) is Coach of the Century after that call." Not to pick on Fassel or his follies, but in Tampa Bay, we can recognize bad coaching from an area code away. Now, we can recognize what good coaching looks like. "It all comes from Tony," Sapp said. "I can't believe how calm he stays when some of the stuff is going on. I'm going crazy, and I'm saying everything but thank you. And he's got his arms folded, and his face hasn't changed." Chidi Ahanotu says flatly that Dungy salvaged his career. Sapp could say the same. Derrick Brooks, too. And a lot of other Bucs. He has taken a franchise with the NFL's sorriest past, and he has granted it an enviable future. He has taught his team how to think, how to win. Don't allow a bad play to turn into a defeat, don't let a defeat turn into a slump, don't let a slump turn into a losing streak. Don't sweat a bad play or a bad break or a bad call. "No matter what," he said, "you have to win." Do not mistake his calm for a lack of fire. The flames burn deeper in Dungy, but they burn hot. If you doubt it, you should have seen him on the sideline after the officials made the worst call of the season. They not only allowed a bounced pass to stand as an interception, they allowed a long return even after one official had waved his arms to kill the play. "I was baffled," he said. "I'm not an instant-replay guy, but maybe they're trying to turn me into one." There are other coaches who have been so angered by such a call they would have stewed about it for the rest of the game, and they would have dedicated their post-game comments to it. Dungy managed to let it go. More importantly, so did his team. This is what the team draws from him. Composure. Confidence. Control. It was never more evident than Sunday. "He gives us poise, and he gives us consistency," Dilfer said. "I can think of four games this year just like this one. Arizona. Indianapolis. San Francisco." You know the best thing about Dungy? It's that none of this is enough. He passed nine victories like a car going past a sign that reads entering the city limits. It's nice, but it isn't the final destination. Oh, he knows, as best he can, how important it is to some. In the first weeks he was on the job, he was told repeatedly, "Just win nine." Or "Just stop the losing streak." With nine victories in hand, however, he is thinking higher goals. This is a man who was amazed last year when he got a Gatorade bath for finishing 6-10, remember? Granted, his team is a work in progress, but while the rest of us are celebrating nine wins, he is thinking of playoffs and beyond. And that is the lesson with Dungy. That today is good, but tomorrow is better. That losing is not to be accepted, that meager goals are not worthy of celebration. His team knows that already. Now, Dungy has to teach it to everyone else in Tampa Bay