He shook Andy Reid's hand near the 50-yard line and then Tony Dungy made it about 10 yards before he was surrounded by gawkers and frozen in TV lights. A look of utter disdain flashed across Dungy's face -- one I never thought him capable of. In an instant Dungy lowered his chin, sidestepped the mob and jogged the rest of the way off the field with his head held high and his dignity intact.

He may have been the only one.

After watching this fiasco unfold over the last week, I have to ask: Is there no room left in this game for class, integrity and character?

In 1995 Malcolm Glazer bought a team that had two winning seasons in 20 years. He then watched (one would assume) as Dungy took the Bucs to the playoffs in four of the last five seasons, including a run to the 1999 NFC Championship game. During that span Dungy also sent 29 players to the Pro Bowl and won nine or more games four times. Most owners would be pretty happy with that.

Dungy's reward, however, was a cesspool of rumor and innuendo swirling around him as he tried to prepare for the playoffs while simultaneously mourning the death of his mother.

Listen, it's Glazer's team; he can hire and fire anyone he wants. And good for him. I understand perfectly that he expects a return on the investment he's made on all these pricey free agents.

But at what cost?

How about a little class? Don't deal behind your coach's back. Wait a freakin' week. Dismiss Dungy in the dignified way he deserves. Then go about hiring Bill Parcells. But do it in a way that doesn't harken back to the days of tangerine-traffic-barrel unis or Sam Wyche wackiness or 2-28 stretches when the Bucs were the laughingstock of all of pro sports. Back to an era when, I swear, I once saw QB Trent Dilfer miss a teammate on a leaping high five because he was so out of practice celebrating after successful plays.

"It's a shame how fast people forget what it used to be like before Tony got here," said Bucs tight end Dave Moore, a 9-year veteran. "We were going nowhere fast and we were playing some pretty ugly football until Tony showed up. He turned this franchise from a loser to a winner, how can that not count for something?"

I knew Dungy was different by the way he conducted himself after starting his tenure in Tampa Bay 0-5. The pressure was devastating. But he was calm. Totally at peace. He didn't panic or point fingers, scream or bench players. His demeanor never changed. He said that he was committed to building a winning team with high-character players and he never wavered.

His son Eric sat next to us in his office that day, watching cartoons, constantly shushing us as we talked about that week's opponent, the Minnesota Vikings. As I got up to leave after the interview (his siblings are all doctors and lawyers, so Dungy likes to say that he is the failure of the family) I asked Eric who his favorite team was.

"I love the Vikes," he said. "Dad, your team always seems to be sick or something."

"Now," laughed Dungy, "do you see what I'm up against?"

In the end, though, it was so much more than that. The backstabbers stretched out like a conga line snaking through a wedding reception. Though Dungy himself must accept some of the blame for being steadfast in his philosophies, loyal to his assistants and caring toward his players -- almost to a fault.

Although he played quarterback in college, Dungy is a disciple of the old Steelers coach Chuck Noll. The Ravens championship last year only solidified his notion that you can win with defense alone by sticking close, moving ahead in the fourth quarter and holding on for a 10-7 victory.

The problem, of course, is that his offense often had trouble scoring those 10 points. The system sets up quarterbacks to fail by asking them to complete crucial passes only when everyone in the stadium knows they're going to pass -- a pet peeve of Dilfer's, and Brad Johnson's ultimate undoing.

Still, with a chance to save Dungy's job on Saturday, the Bucs decided to lay down like Brett Favre against Michael Strahan.

Johnson threw four picks. And on the Eagles' two rushing TDs I counted nine missed tackles. After the game world-class junk talker Warren Sapp had nothing to say. (Cash got your tongue, Warren?) Pushed around like he was on roller skates and lunging at runners like a drunken tourist in Pamplona, his play spoke volumes.

"We have a lot of talent on this team -- we just haven't played good football," says tailback Warrick Dunn. "That's not a coaching problem. That's a player problem."

Players in this league constantly whine about not being treated with respect. Dungy, however, treated everyone with respect -- even when they didn't deserve it. "I've played for and been around a lot of coaches," said Moore, "and I can't find one better than Tony."

Now the Bucs are about to be bullied, demeaned, screamed at and cajoled in every way possible by the mercenary from New Jersey -- and, I gotta tell ya, it brings a smile to my face. They deserve it.

I imagine at some point Tuna (which, by the way, is A nut spelled backwards) will gather his team together for a chat. But after reportedly scheming behind Dungy's back for the job, how will he ever be able to preach trust, loyalty and honesty without his team busting out in a fit of laughter?

Who knows, Parcells may win a Lombardi Trophy in Tampa. He may win two. But Super Bowl championships only last for a year. Whereas class, professionalism, dignity and honor -- these things last forever.

David Fleming is a senior writer for ESPN The Magazine. E-mail him at flemfile@aol.com.