Keidel: Giants Rarely Disappoint, And Even When They Do, It Never Lasts
By Jason Keidel
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You refused to listen two weeks ago. But we'll say it again.
The Giants are legit.
They didn't panic at 0-2, and now they are 3-2.
They didn't listen to you, the Big Blue blogger, the G-Men hater, the closet Jets fan who blasted the (very) few us who said the season wasn't over after WEEK 2!
To hear the blogosphere two weeks ago, the 2014 Giants were in dreadful lockstep with the 1976 Buccaneers. They were rudderless, headless, and clueless. Tom Coughlin was an amalgam of senior moments, ready to be wrapped in a blue bib, to be fed green jello. He was leaving Eli all alone, on the back end of an overrated career, who backed into two Super Bowl rings thanks to Tyree's freak-show catch and Wes Welker's drop. Eli was just a charming, southern huckleberry who thumbed the overalls under his shoulder pads, not really made for the Big City.
Such is the nature of sports, of course -- the preteen, knee-jerk refrain of the fan. We draw rabid and rampant conclusions from one month, one week, one game. Forget that history has slapped its ruler over our hands and heads countless times. And not in some distant land, history-bending, abstract sense, either. These very New York "Football" Giants have become redundant in their resilience.
They don't always look pretty, but are pretty effective at what they do. And that is stick to the potent coda of consistency and calmness. The Giants don't panic. Not when Eli Manning stunk it up after replacing Kurt Warner. Not when Tiki Barber was a fumbling machine. Not when they were 0-2 and blowing air horns in the ear of some poor female reporter who was just looking for a quick quote for her editor. Not when they were down in the fourth quarter of the Super Bowl.
It's not sexy. It doesn't bleed or lead the NFL in anything. It doesn't bogart the bold ink with bold quotes. It doesn't guarantee anything. It doesn't trivialize its opponents. It doesn't give the ADD/MTV crowd something to ride all week, all the way to Sunday. It keeps its business between the lines. Basically, it's the inverse of the Jets.
Fan Guy doesn't care about nuance, about the italics of success. He calls Joe & Evan, Boomer & Carton, and the rest of the radio duets to unload his brand of winning. Fan Guy, who never has the stones to use his real name, dreams up his online handle, like "Joey Deuces," then gasses up the airwaves, shrieks for a change of QB, HC, and GM every time his team doesn't win a game.
Then when his suggestions bomb he vanishes, changes his alias, and repeats. Fan Guy forgets that Tom and Eli have two rings together. Fan Guy forgets that the Giants have been to five Super Bowls sine 1986, winning four. Fan Guy thinks Rex Ryan is clever and Tom Coughlin is boring. Fan Guy wants to look good more than be right.
Sure, you should bristle when some TV talking head says a team should always ignore the fans. After all, you do pay the bills. You pay the salaries, fill the stadiums, buy the beer, wear the jerseys. You matter, a lot more than the condescending athlete and executive admits.
But Fan Guy is a different cat. At 0-2, he speed dials sports radio and says it's time to get Bill Cowher and start the kid from Syracuse. He doesn't realize how hard it is to win one championship, much less two. He has no gratitude or perspective. He doesn't see the guy in Cleveland or Detroit or Buffalo who would trade a limb for a ring.
No matter how this season ends, it's time for Giants fans -- heck football fans and New Yorkers -- to appreciate how well-run, how well-done, the Giants have been over the last quarter-century. The Giants fan doesn't wear paper bags over his head. He doesn't wave the "Now I can Die In Peace!" signs because it's been 60 years since the last title. His team isn't all all over local cable, imploring fans to gobble all the unsold tickets every week.
In a Wild West, corporate culture, where the average career is about three years, the Giants manage to remain relevant. They often make solid draft picks, and quickly recover from the times they don't. They often have solid seasons, and fix the years they don't.
Football is such a violent and visually fertile sport we assume overreaction is part of the solution, that screaming is teaching or correcting. But a coach or QB or a GM is more like a pilot, successful when they remain calm in the chaos, whether it's in the mayhem of the weather, the pocket, or the media.
The irony, of course, is that the team down the hall, named after an airplane, is way more turbulent. Use whatever aviation metaphors you like, but we can all agree that the Giants fly under the radar. And they fly right.
Maybe now you'll admit it.
Please follow Jason on Twitter at @JasonKeidel
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