Okay, I know it’s been a couple of weeks since the Super Bowl, but the truth is I just couldn’t wrap my brain around the Giants victory well enough to write about it until now. As an English major, I have always looked to literature and poetry for the kind of resolution I witnessed on Super Bowl Sunday. It is a resolution so rarely encountered in life, but when it does cross your path, it is so awesome, so inspirational, that it brings chills to the back of your neck and a goofy grin to your face. I know that ESPN and sports analysts everywhere have already made the best points about the game—better points than I could ever make—but given that my blog tracks entertainment, I simply must write about the Super Bowl on that basic level. Super Bowl XLII was one of the most entertaining sports events we will watch in our lifetime.
The truth of the matter is that the Giants were destined to win. I believe this more and more as their victory reminds me of historic under-dog triumphs. People want an upset. I would go so far as to say perhaps the Patriots wanted it somewhere deep inside, underneath their brawn and football padding. Just look at memorialized victories, like that of Seabiscuit, the little horse that could. In fact, I think 20 years from now there will be a novel and a movie about this season’s Giants, much like Seabiscuit book and movie of a few years ago. Maybe I’ll write it just to prove the point. The formula is exactly the same. Seabiscuit triumphed over War Admiral in the midst of the depression. The Giants, and “little” Eli Manning, defeated the mighty Patriots, and their studly Tom Brady, in the midst of the US’s general depression over Bush and Iraq. The War Admiral-esque Patriots had everything going for them—the coaching, the playing, and heck, even looks. The Giants, however, were mightier at heart, despite their awkward and almost adolescent quality (though this may mostly refer to Eli). Tyree’s catch was also the “So long Charlie” moment of the game. The Patriots brief lead in the 4th quarter, just like Woolf pulling back on Seabiscuit in the homestretch, was exactly what the Giants needed to surge ahead.
So back to destiny. I do believe a football team will go 19-0. The team that does accomplish that feat, however, will face a more equal adversary in the Super Bowl to get their undefeated season. They will face the more stacked teams, like this year’s Packers or Cowboys. It may have taken just a bit more chance that the Giants overthrew those two teams on their way to the Super Bowl, but the fact is that they, at a true relative disadvantage, were fated to beat the Patriots once they stepped onto that field in Phoenix. History, both actual and literary, indicated that they would win.
Of course, like any of these storybook victories, no one is absolutely bet-on-their-life sure the underdog can pull it off. When the clock wound down to zero and it snowed confetti in Phoenix, the Giants fans I heard collectively cheering from every corner of Manhattan were voicing their euphoria and, more important, their realization that they knew all along that the Giants were going to do it. They had just been too cautious and humble—like their beloved Giants—to say it aloud. These victories are about the quiet confidence that goes unsaid. Arguably, Burress said it, but he made no promises. He didn’t exactly make a “Babe Ruth” homerun call. Yet, Strahan knew when he ran through the Patriots like hanging laundry. Tyree knew it when he almost casually used his helmet as a second hand. Moss knew it when he couldn’t complete passes. Brady knew it when he continually fell to the turf. And finally, Manning knew it when—after an entire regular season with an inability to shake off linemen—he shrugged off two Patriots as they grabbed desperately at his jersey.
You want a storybook ending? I give you the New York Giants.
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