If you saw last Tuesday's show, you know what I'm talking about. It was the final three, featuring Bice, Underwood (in dispatches about the show, she's generally described as a "country girl" because she is a girl from the country) and Vonzell Solomon (in dispatches about the show, he's generally described as a soul singer because she is black.) As with every week, each competitor had to sing a song based on some proscribed criteria. Last week, each had to sing three songs. In reverse order of appearance, the songs would be one picked by one of the show's three judges, one picked by the singers themselves, and one picked by the future producer of the winner's album, the zombiefied music legend known as Clive Davis.

In all three songs, Solomon seemed very nervous. But that was no shock; the previous week, by breaking down and blubbering onstage when judge Abdul mentioned she (Solomon, not the scandal-tarred Abdul) had a rough day, Solomon proved she was not a big player who made big plays in big games. When Seacrest told Solomon on last Wednesday's show that she was voted out, she seemed almost relieved it was over, like Peyton Manning after another butt-kicking from the New England Patriots.

Meanwhile, Bice, who all season was up and down, falling in the middle of the pack, or even the end of it at some points in the competition, put on the performance of the season.

All season, he had used his chops as a performer (at 29 and with many years' experience singing in bands, Bice had far more experience than most "Idol" contestants), to get himself through weeks like the disco theme and the show tunes theme, stuff that wasn't exactly in Bice's Lynyrd Skynyrd wheelhouse. Bice often was lumped in with fellow long-haired "rocker" Constantine Maroulis, so he benefited when Maroulis got cocky and began favoring his Simon Cowell-dubbed "Smoldering Idol" stage presence over his actual singing, getting him knocked out sixth-from-last, much earlier than expected.

Indeed, Bice saved his best for the final quarter, last week making himself look like Michael Jordan and Underwood, his competition for this week, look like Bryon Russell.

Bice first nailed Davis' choice of Elton John's "Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me," showing a range of voice and emotion he hadn't previously delivered. His Corpseness Davis was very enthused. Then, Bice decided to go a capella with his next choice — "In a Dream" by Badlands — and sang it on pitch, as judge Randy Jackson likes to say, and with conviction that no other contestant could match. Davis right there told him they'd be making a record together soon.

This was the equivalent of the 35-foot 3-pointer with the shot-clock at one second — Bice had killed with a no-instrument version of an obscure hair metal song.

Underwood, a top vote-getter all season, was a nervous wreck following Bice. "I wouldn't want to follow Bo," notoriously acerbic judge Cowell so tenderly put it to young Carrie. She wasn't horrible, but Bice had exposed the Shania Twain wannabe's every flaw, particuarly her extremely wooden stage presence and her soulless delivery. (Underwood shouldn't feel too bad — Linda Ronstadt made a killing in the 1970s in a similar vein as a country-pop empty vessel. For that matter, so has Twain.) Davis moved his lips as wide as he could in praise of Underwood, but he wasn't practically offering a record deal on the spot.

There's no guarantee Bice will bring his "A" game on Tuesday night's finale. But he's asserted himself as impervious in the face of pressure. He's Reggie Miller hitting a huge shot, Tom Brady tossing the winning touchdown pass, Bud Selig coming up with a draconian steroid policy before Congress imposes one. Until further notice, Bice is the epitome of a big player making big plays in big games. Even Jimmy Rollins' mother would agree.

E-mail Bob Cook at bobc@flakmag.com.