That moment -- when Dahl looked on the ground and saw Bradford, rolling in anguish, biting his hand, and clearly distraught, was epic. It was so epic, I began crying. I watched the scene over and over and over again. If you haven't watched it at least 10 times, then you haven't seen it enough.
Dahl is a man. He is a friend to all.
The instant he saw Bradford in pain, Dahl sprinted -- all 300 pounds -- torward the person who caused the injury, #21 Mike Mitchell. Dahl showed intensity, he showed passion, he showed friendship, but most of all, he showed heart. Unlike all the other people gathered around Bradford who just stood there in shock and horror, Dahl turned around and went after the guy who had just recently celebrated in poor taste.
Dahl received a personal foul, but it was well worth it. Dahl could've done more, he could've ripped Mitchell's helmet off and pummeled his face in, and get suspended for the season, and it still wouldn't matter to me. Dahl showed his friendship to Bradford and heart that goes beyond football. He's a good dude. Even if he was wrong.
The way Dahl ran out there was nothing short of incredible. Play some inspirational music during the play, and it will amplify the moment even more.
I hereby declare Harvey Dahl a messiah. He's a fucking hero and a legend in my eyes.