In the summer of '99, at Arizona Cardinals training camp, Jake Plummer went five steps deep into the pocket, looked at the post and threw a duck. Downfield, the ball descending toward them, two defenders converged on the intended receiver, both of them in line for the easy pick. But when all three men collided, the ball fell harmlessly to the turf.

It's better to be lucky than good. Of course, in a perfect world, it would be splendid to harness both qualities. But it's not a perfect world. So those who are good at what they do, in order to keep doing that thing, must be supplemented by strokes of good fortune.

Maybe it is a perfect world for Jake Plummer. Because that same day, just a couple of plays later, Plummer made the same throw and completed it to former Cardinals receiver David Boston. You could say that Plummer's first six years in the league were a composite of those two plays: Make a poor decision, make an even worse throw, then shrug it off, rear back and let it fly again -- consequences be damned, just go for yours. That's the Snake. Always has been. That's why I had gone to Phoenix earlier that spring to interview him. Back then, he was one of the league's rising young stars. But now? He's lucky to be here, leading the Broncos into the AFC Championship game.

Sitting poolside at some hotel, I told Plummer his game was the pigskin version of Allen Iverson's. Whether it be good, bad, hit or miss, spectacular or disastrous, he was always fun to watch. Even his mom, Marilyn, said her son "could make a game against the worst team exciting." Good from a fan's standpoint, but from an investor's standpoint, very confusing. I mean, how many organizations stick with a guy who, in his six season with Arizona, threw more touchdowns than interceptions just once.

The Cardinals never even flirted with another quarterback during the Plummer years. No solid veteran free agents, no high draft picks. It was all Snake, all the time. Surely you'd agree that quarterbacks are held to a certain standard, right? And that standard, right or wrong, is more stringent than other positions. Kordell Stewart, drafted two years earlier, got his team to the AFC Championship game, not quite the Super Bowl, but the brink still counts for something. Yet Plummer went seven years between playoff wins (yes, Arizona won a playoff game in 1998) -- unscathed, never having seen the bench, and never having been a backup. And here he is, on the brink himself, all bearded up and stringy haired, wearing an expression that says, "Yeah, and?"

Perhaps this is a good place to give it up for Mike Shanahan. See, it was Shanahan who brought Plummer a mile above sea level in order to breathe new life into him. It's not uncommon for a coach to take a gamble on a longshot player, essentially betting on himself to reform that player. And Shanahan's winnings are big. The 2003 season, Plummer's first in Denver, was only the second time in his career that he threw more TDs than picks. Now he's managing games in the mature fashion of a slick 30-something. But last week, as he was rolling out and carving up Master Belichick's most elaborate zone schemes, Plummer still looked very much like that kid kicking it by the pool.

Speaking of kids ...

Last Sunday, a few moments after the Steelers' victory over Indianapolis, Bill Cowher bounded into the RCA tunnel, fists pumping, eyes-a-twinkling, jaw-a-juttin', and just a half-step from a bona fide "Skip To My Loo." His youthful exuberance underscored his 48 years, and rightly so, because he's a man working for an owner who is more like his grandfather than CEO. That's why Cowher is coaching in his fifth championship game for the same team with whom he started 14 years ago.

It's better to be lucky than good. And Bill Cowher is certainly a good coach. In his first six seasons he took the Steelers to the playoffs, including a Super Bowl loss in 1996. The team they lost to in that game, the Dallas Cowboys, won their third Super Bowl in four years, and with Barry Switzer running things. It could have just as easily been Jimmy Johnson behind the wheel that night, but it's common belief that Jerry Jones ran Johnson out of town just to prove he could win with any old coach. And the instant Switzer raised the Lombardi trophy, Jones had proven his point.

So Bill Cowher is pretty lucky to have old Dan Rooney signing his checks. Take that stretch, from 1998 to 2000, when the Steelers missed the playoffs three straight years. Cowher wasn't kicked to the curb after the slide. Oh, he could have been, especially in these times when coaches are getting hired just to be fired. But it appears Rooney has no interest in keeping up with the Joneses. Or the Snyders. So in lieu of a public flogging, Cowher was given a three-year contract extension.

And now here he is again, on the brink. Perhaps Cowher's tale is a testament to that fleeting understanding of the big picture. Everyone knows the cyclical nature of sports. But most owners and coaches ignore it. No coach can win all of the time, and no one player can dominate at will. But sometimes, if you leave 'em be, the roulette wheel comes spinning around and that guy comes up a winner. If he's lucky.

Alan Grant is a regular contributor to ESPN.com and ESPN The Magazine. He is a former NFL defensive back who played college football at Stanford.