he didn't have
it? Accorsi couldn't tell. He found his seat, not in the press box,
where he wanted to sit, but out on the ice-cold photographers' deck. The
opposing team, Auburn, was stacked with N.F.L. prospects. Ole Miss had
maybe two, and one was Eli Manning. Accorsi watched as Auburn sprinted
ahead, 14-0.
</p>

On a couple of occasions, Manning threw long. Running to his right, he
drilled a pass, across his body, to the left side of the field maybe 55
yards. His arm was stronger than Ernie dared to imagine: the kid had a
cannon, possibly stronger than his brother's arm. And then something
happened: Accorsi felt it before he saw the scoreboard change. Manning
was, improbably, keeping Ole Miss in the game; he was finding a way to
win. Ole Miss had simply given up trying tothem on two successive third-quarter drives to go
ahead 17-16, the first touchdown on a streak down the left sideline
where he just dropped the ball (about 40 yards) over the receiver's
right shoulder for the touchdown . . . called the touchdown pass (a
quick 12-yard slant) that put them ahead at the line of scrimmage
himself.</blockquote>

At one point late in the third quarter, Ole Miss found itself on the
Auburn 15-yard line. The rush came so hard that it knocked Manning down
as he took the snap. The Auburn line just hurled the entire Ole Miss
line backward, and Manning went over like a bowling pin at the back of
the stack. The play looked to be over; but a split end was running a
fade to the corner of the end zone. As Eli fell,