How could I possibly sit in that chair again? How could it ever feel as good, as right, as in sync with what was happening on the widescreen in front of me.
How could anything ever feel as good as it felt this season – that didn't involve Carrie Underwood?
It's time to get a new chair, I guess. Move the furniture around, at least. Super Bowl champions? Super Bowl freaking champions!
You know what they say about how important timing is in life? Well, my friends on the Giants beat are now calling me the Tiki Barber of the profession.
They are right, except I don't have his looks, his physique, his wardrobe, his money or his job and I doubt Giants fans would boo me if my picture popped up on the big video screen.
Still, the comparison seems valid: You spend the formative years of your career with a team and the minute you step away to try something new they win the most improbable title of our generation.
I feel like I just watched my girlfriend of 10 years marry some other guy.
Still, there's a lot to be said for my new perspective on things. There's no traffic after the game.
And now, all I have left to say is the Giants – the Giants – have won three Super Bowls in 21 years and each in their own way has been spectacular.
But here's the thing: How can you possibly decide which one means more to you?
It's like asking a father which of his three children he loves the most. It's impossible. They all have characteristics that enthrall you, aspects of their personalities you love.
Take Super Bowl XXI, for instance.
The Giants hadn't won a championship since 1956, the days of black and white television. Those dopes in the helicopter were taunting our beloved patriarch, Wellington Mara, about all the years of bad football.
All of a sudden, they go 17-2, including 12 straight. They win all 10 at Giants Stadium. LT is MVP. They crush teams by a combined 82 points in three playoff games and beat the great John Elway in the big one.
They come back from a 10-9 halftime deficit that was only that close because George Martin was able to sack Elway for a safety. They play the perfect third quarter; Simms to Bavaro from 13 yards, a 21-yard field goal from Raul Allegre and a Joe Morris 1-yard score. The defense holds the Broncos to two net yards.
And then before you know it, Simms is hitting 10 straight and Phil McConkey for another TD. Suddenly, the game is a rout, Simms is 22-of-25 and Bill Parcells is a hero.
How could you not love that?
Take Super Bowl XXV, for instance.
They start the season 10-0 then refuse to quit when Simms gets injured. They have seven Pro Bowl players.
The Gulf War has the country in a frenzy. Amid heightened security, the Giants fly across the country to Tampa on the same night they win the NFC Championship Game in San Francisco. No problem, perhaps the greatest coaching staff in the history of the Super Bowl is in place – Parcells, Tom Coughlin, Bill Belichick, Ron Erhardt, Romeo Crennel, Charlie Weis, Al Groh and Mike Sweatman – and, of course, Ray Handley (they can't all be perfect, right?).
Rodney Hampton is hurt, too. Still, they control the ball for 40 minutes, 33 seconds, a Super Bowl record against a Bills team that had scored 95 points in their previous two playoff games.
They are trailing 12-10 at the half then come roaring out on 14-play, 75-yard drive that eats up 9:29, fueled by three third-down conversions by Jeff Hostetler, that ends with MVP Ottis Anderson's 1-yard score.
Then after Thurman Thomas scores from 31, they come back with Matt Bahr's field goal then watch as Scott Norwood's 47-yarder sails wide….right.
How could you ever forget that?
But Super Bowl XLII has to be the most fabulous day in the life of a Giants fan.
John Mara called it the greatest win in franchise history and his grandfather bought the team in 1925. They had more fun on the road than a heavy metal band in the 1980s; outdoors (Tampa), indoors (Dallas), on ice (Green Bay) and in the desert (Arizona).
They were supposed to win four, maybe five games and then fire their coach. They ended up beating a team that won 18 for the championship and watched the other team's coach run off the field with one second to play.
They rallied behind a more reasonable Tom Coughlin. They wore black to the party. They put aside key injuries by essentially relying on the finest corps of rookies the team has ever had.
They put their faith on their patient, hard-working quarterback, Eli Manning, rallied behind their indefatigable receiver, Plaxico Burress, thrived due to the effort of an unstoppable defensive line.
They watched David Tyree, their humble servant of God, make the most heavenly catch in team history.
It's been some season. I've watched it all in the seat of the house and it still it floored me.
Nothing could ever feel as good as this again.
This the Most Super Victory of Them All
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