Keidel: XLII Reasons Eli Trumps Tony
By Jason Keidel
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At the risk of redundancy, I state for the record that I've been a Steelers fan since 1976. This means I have no dog in the debate over Eli Manning vs. Tony Romo.
Inspired by some banter on Boomer & Carton, WFAN ran a poll on its Facebook page, which, naturally, tilted sharply toward Manning, the quarterback of WFAN's key demo: Tri-State sports fans who would probably like to see the Cowboys contracted from the NFL. But though the bias is blatant, the answer is obvious to any objective observer.
Eli Manning is better than Tony Romo. And there are XLII reasons why, if you get my drift. And since you climb the QB ladder by bagging a Lombardi Trophy, only the most deranged Cowboys worshippers will argue for Romo, who has won one playoff game as he finishes his sixth NFL season as a starter.
I think I can explain the Dallas Cowboy dementia, and why a franchise that has been so futile for 15 years still has a frothing fan base. There are two waves of Dallas devotees: guys born in the late-1960s (like me) who were reared on Roger Staubach, Randy White, Too Tall Jones, Tony Dorsett, Tom Landry, etc., and their offspring, who were born into the Big Three (Troy Aikman, Michael Irvin and Emmitt Smith) dynasty, reinforcing their fathers' sermons about the 1970s.
The '70s, beyond being football's best decade, was a kind of wild frontier for fandom, particularly in New York, where the local teams were dreadful and our young, eager eyes looked for more noble allegiances. So if you're befuddled by middle-aged New Yorkers who root for Pittsburgh, Dallas, Oakland, and Miami, you now have the reason. (My father was born and raised in Western Pennsylvania, which explains my Steelers devotion.)
Like the New York Yankees, the Cowboys are seen as more than a sports team. They double as an avatar of Americana. So just by dint of donning the hat or helmet the athlete isn't just imbued with limitless physical splendor but also unlimited virtue. To their lifelong fans, rooting against the Cowboys is like desecrating the gridiron emblem of Holy Spirit; indeed, it was said that the hole in the old stadium was carved out so that "God can watch his favorite team."
And thus playing quarterback with that star on your helmet is just a rung below roaming centerfield for the Yankees. When you're the QB of the Seahawks, you're lucky if anyone east of the Rockies remembers your name. When you're taking snaps in the Lone Star State you date Jessica Simpson, Carrie Underwood, and Miss Missouri. Amazing how handsome a chap becomes when he scribbles "QB of Cowboys" on his W-2.
That's not to say Romo isn't a good quarterback and isn't having a season bordering on sublime – 3,895 yards passing, 29 TD, 9 INT – but even after football royalty (Rodgers, Peyton, Brees, Brady, Big Ben) I'd take several quarterbacks before Romo, who is better known for untimely sojourns to Mexico and fumbled field goal snaps than any postseason prowess.
Some will suggest Eli is an overrated, overwhelmed player whose "Aw, shucks!" refrain after every botched play is a symbol of a low IQ. He's just a beneficiary of the Manning name – the official, legal tender of the NFL (e pluribus Peyton) – which means he sipped from a high-grade gene pool but didn't take Big Bro's gulp. So Eli is little more than the Little Brother protected by the banner of America's premier football family, the third-best player in his own household. Add to those qualities the fact that Eli plays in America's media vortex, speaks with an Ole Miss twang and disarming humility and you've got a bona fide media darling.
There's some truth to some of that. But unlike Romo, Eli has won a Super Bowl, and the game's MVP. And you don't throw for nearly 5,000 yards (which Eli will do this year), and an NFL record-tying 14 fourth-quarter touchdowns (which Eli did this year) by accident. The Cowboys, however, haven't sniffed the Super Bowl since 1996, and Romo has played with an All-Pro cast built by Bill Parcells.
You can argue that beating Romo's Cowboys, and therefore sweeping the season series, winning the division and watching "America's Team" flatten under the increasingly frustrated fist of Jerry Jones (another reason folks love or loathe the Cowboys), will render it all moot.
There's some truth to that, too. But to this observer the debate was won in '08, when Eli shocked the unshakable, perfect Patriots in Arizona. Until Romo does what Dallas legends do – win at least one ring – Eli Manning is the man of the NFC East.
Feel free to email me: Keidel.jason@gmail.com
