The Drive: 92 Yards, 11 Plays, Zero Panic

Super Bowl XXIII is the game that made Joe Montana immortal — not because he won, but because of how little the moment seemed to bother him. The 49ers trailed the Cincinnati Bengals 16-13 with 3:10 remaining, starting at their own 8-yard line. Ninety-two yards away from a championship. In the huddle, with the weight of the franchise on the drive, Montana looked into the stands and said, "Hey, isn't that John Candy?" His teammates laughed. The tension broke. And then Montana drove 92 yards in 11 plays with the precision of a man who had already seen the ending. The final pass — a 10-yard strike to John Taylor with 34 seconds left — was thrown into a window so tight that physics should have objected. The 49ers won 20-16. It was Montana's third Super Bowl victory, and it was the one that separated him from every quarterback who had ever lived. Not because of the stats. Because of the John Candy comment. Because of the calm. Because 92 yards with three minutes left looked, on his face, exactly like a Tuesday.