You could almost make out the sound of Pete Carroll cackling from 1,300 miles away. The way a used car salesman cackles when a lemon leaves the lot.
Al Michaels, the consummate pro, could barely contain his guffaws while his microphone was hot. Kirk Herbstreit was still shaking his head in the press elevator Thursday night during the descent to field level, no doubt planning his escape to some othe . . .
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