The nation was in a state of mourning. A time when, out of respect, everyday life seemed obliged to come to a halt.

	Browns great Jim Brown scored against the Dallas Cowboys, but the players say they didn't care who won the game played two days after Kennedy was assassinated in 1963.

In the days following the death of President Kennedy in Dallas in 1963, when, locally, the search for his assassin was ongoing and, globally, the balance of power remained tenuous, the triviality that is sports became the unwilling focus of scrutiny and the target of scorn.

The Dallas Cowboys, prompted by then-NFL commissioner Pete Rozelle to play on, took the field against the Cleveland Browns just two days after Kennedy was killed in Dallas and a day before his burial in Arlington, Va. The decision, one Rozelle would say he regretted the most, ignited the ire of fans and criticism from politicians.

"This is the only game in my entire career, even at the very end, that I didn't want to play," said Bob Lilly, the Cowboys' Hall of Fame defensive tackle and a veteran of 14 seasons of professional football.

Football is a game of emotion, but on this given Sunday, Nov. 24, 1963, it was completely absent at Cleveland's Municipal Stadium.

"We were ashamed to be part of Dallas, because we were guilty by association," Cowboys running back Don Perkins said.

Rozelle, after consulting with White House press secretary Pierre Salinger, made the difficult decision to play the games. Salinger had thought the games might provide a healthy diversion in a time of crisis, but Rozelle later said it was the one decision during his long tenure that he would reverse if he could.

The Cowboys reluctantly flew to Cleveland on that Saturday nearly 38 years ago, where they encountered an air of hostility. Baggage handlers refused to touch their bags, hotel personnel ignored them, some fans spit on them.

"They weren't going to have any kind of introductions," remembers Dallas defensive end George Andre. "We were told to keep our helmets on at all times. I was always wondering if there was a guy on the upper deck with a rifle or something, taking a bead on me."

	The caisson bearing the flag-draped coffin of President Kennedy leaves the White House en route to Arlington National Cemetery on Nov. 25, 1963.

The players were in the locker room, suiting up, when they learned that Lee Harvey Oswald, the suspected shooter, had been shot himself, by Jack Ruby.

"Then, you didn't know what was going on," Cleveland place-kicker Lou Groza said. "Of course, we still had to make preparations for the game. We had to get ourselves right, mentally."

Said Perkins: "We went out for the pre-game warm-up and it was like a morgue. You didn't feel the enthusiasm. The Browns were lethargic on their side and the Cowboys were the same on the other side."

Dallas head coach Tom Landry, in an interview before his death two years ago, said he remembered an acute quietness during that game.

"It was very unusual," he said. "Different than getting ready for a regular game when you're exchanging information, talking and motivating.

"It was just that, 'We're here and we're going to play this game. We don't want to play the game, but we're going to play it.' "

	“	We looked like Zombies. We all had our capes on, the weather was dreary, nobody was jumping up and down. Everybody just had a long face ”
		— Bob Lilly, the Cowboys' Hall of Fame defensive tackle

Said Lilly: "We looked like Zombies. We all had our capes on, the weather was dreary, nobody was jumping up and down. Everybody just had a long face."

There was no television and the radio broadcast was canceled when Oswald was shot.

The quality of the game, clearly, was compromised. Dallas quarterback Don Meredith threw four interceptions, and his Cleveland counterpart, Frank Ryan, threw three more. Jim Brown, the Brown's Hall of Fame running back, gained a mere 51 yards.

Cleveland won 27-17.

"It was played in total silence," remembers Art Modell, then the owner of the Cleveland Browns. "There was no emotion. No cheering, for or against -- nothing.

"It was like playing in a [television] studio."

Greg Garber is a senior writer for ESPN.com.