MANN, THAT WAS FUN!
Eli, Giants remind faithful of how December is supposed to be
LATER, in the sanctity of the locker room, with a game ball in his hands, Eli Manning summed things up simply and succinctly — par for the course, right there — for both the teammates chanting his name around him and for the faithful who’d endured one more frozen afternoon when the numbers on the scoreboard finally shook out all right again.
“Nothing better ,” Eli said, football in his right hand, bountiful happiness in his voice, “than being in this room on a Sunday afternoon after a win, boys!”
For three hours, Manning and the other fellows wearing the familiar blue jerseys delivered a reminder that these are precisely the kinds of Sundays we covet around here. There have been too few of them, of course, especially on this end of MetLife Stadium: 3-13 two years ago, 5-11 last year.
And 2-11 as they jogged onto the field Sunday, nine losses in a row, 77 days since the last victory. All of our other eight franchises had won since then: the Jets, of course, and all three hockey teams, and both basketball teams, even the Yankees and the Mets. Seventyseven days that felt just a little longer than eternity. And then this: Giants 36, Dolphins 20.
“Hopefully, it’s contagious,” Saquon Barkley said at game’s end. “Let’s go!”
The loudest cheers and the deepest love went to Manning on this day, of course, because not only had he claimed his first victory in almost a year — and evened his lifetime regularseason record at 117-117 — but he’d been given a most public salute with 1 minute, 50 seconds left in the game, Giants coach Pat Shurmur allowing those who remained among the 72,894 in attendance to stand and chant and cheer as he replaced Manning with Alex Tanney, a splendid moment that might even have gotten to the otherwise stoic Manning’s emotion.
“Maybe,” he’d say later, laughing.
But this wa s a reminder of what a feel-good Sunday is supposed to feel like. Yes, El i was good, especially in the third quarter (10-for-12, 138 yards and a touchdown), and certainly took advantage of the fact the Dolphins are every bit as dreadful a team as the Giants are. But Barkley also looked like himself again for the first time in months (24 carries, 112 yards), grinding his way 4 and 6 and 9 yards at a time.
And the defense played well, wireto-wire, unmoved by Ryan Fitzpatrick’s charms, providing an electric charge in the third quarter when cornerback Sam Beal chased down Miami running back Patrick Laird in the end zone. A 14-13 lead was now 16-13, and soon 23-13, and the Dolphins clocked out right about then.
“It’s been quite a long stretch and it feels really good to win one,” said Shurmur, whose postgame mood reflected that of an entire fan base, relief mixed with happiness at what the Giants did and how they did it. “These guys have continued to fight and this time we put a full game together on all three sides of the ball. We made plays and this is a good win.”
Already there were some buzzkills who lamented what winning the game might mean for the Giants, since so many had replaced their Christmas visions of sugar plums dancing in their heads with Ohio State stud defensive end Chase Young in a blue jersey next year.
That, unfortunately, is the way we have trained ourselves to behave in the face of so many awful teams and so many awful seasons. But even the cynical minority among the fans at MetLife couldn’t really feel that way Sunday. Not with the team dominating the second half in a way that hearkened to so many old December Sundays, back when there was real money on the table.
And not with No. 10 slinging the ball around the way he did. And look, there were still some moments when the joy was replaced with audible agita, Manning throwing three classic interceptions that made everyone inside the building shake their heads in puzzlement. That’s always been part of the package with him, after all. New York took to him as a flawed star. That’s always been part of the deal.
More often than not, though, back before the front office allowed this team to devolve into a sad weekly serial tragicomedy, he’d figure out a way to make it all end this way: happy people filing to the parking lot, filling the Turnpike, warm from the glow of victory no matter what the wind-chill factor was. One more time, he gave them that.
One more time, the Giants, as a whole, allowed you to drive home feeling something other than nauseous. You’d almost forgotten how nice that could be, right?