We all saw the play, or at least the highlight. And I’m sure the same thought crossed all of our minds. On Saturday, with 90 seconds remaining, Northwestern’s Damien Anderson, all alone at the goal line, looked up at a soft spiral and the chance to win one of the most exciting games in recent memory. Anderson reached out, the ball arrived, and he dropped it.

Choke?

Then, on Sunday, after making field goals of 35, 28, and 29 yards, Washington kicker Kris Heppner missed a 33-yarder with 5:10 left in the game. The Redskins lost to the Cardinals, 16-15, and Heppner was cut on Monday.

Choke?

Sports psychologist Jeff Wildfogel defines choking as "playing worse than you’re capable of playing, due to your failure to handle the pressure of the situation." Okay, maybe that applies to Jana Novotna back in ’93 at Wimbledon, or Greg Norman on any balmy Sunday. But is it the reason each time an athlete fails to execute an assignment at a crucial time? What if Anderson had dropped that pass in the first quarter? And what if Heppner’s kick sailed wide earlier in the game? Would you still say they choked?

Let’s step back. Who made up that term, anyway? It means not being able to breathe or swallow — both of which are normally second-nature. But there is nothing second-nature on a playing field. Choking assumes that getting it right is easy at other times. It’s not. And athletes never use that term because they know it’s not.

Must there always be a canned reason for failure? And does it have to be the same played-out, tired, and convenient cliché? Get real, folks, you can’t really expect an athlete to magically transform himself into a flawless species when the game hangs in the balance. You don’t expect Shaquille O’Neal to suddenly shoot 100% from the line when the Lakers need a W, do you? I’m sure he’d like to, but face it -- it ain’t gonna happen. I’m convinced this whole choking thing is a way for the feeble-minded to make sense of their more able-bodied brethren.

Even Michael Jordan, the consensus greatest clutch performer of all time, had the occasional moment of imperfection. Nobody remembers this, but Jordan and the Bulls had a chance to go up 3-1 on the Pacers in the 1998 conference finals. With less than a second left, and the Bulls trailing 97-94, Jordan’s three-pointer clanked off the rim. Did the greatest basketball player of all time choke at money time? Or did he -- hold on to your asses here, while I drop a radical concept -- just miss the shot?

Alan Grant covers the NFL for ESPN The Magazine. You can e-mail him at alan.grant@espnmag.com.