A Moment of Gloating

"I gloat! Hear me gloat!"

--Rudyard Kipling

Sorry. I tried. I mean, seriously. I tried. And I was soooooooooooo close to NOT gloating. But then I started thinking about The New-York-Wizard-of-Oz-Football-Giants: No heart, no brain, no courage. And frankly, I just couldn't stop myself. What do you say about a team where the star receiver would rather shoot himself in the leg the leg than face the Eagles defense? Not that I would want to face them, but I'm not getting paid $10 Million dollars a year to play football either.

The defending SuperBowl champs went from Chic to Geek to Meek in less than a week, bowing out in absolutely craptacular fashion. The first half had me a little worried, with the Giants controlling much of the tempo, and the only thing keeping the Eagles in the game being a couple of defensive stands. Then there was third-and-twenty. That's sixty feet. That's more real estate than Madoff had. Fold Donald Trump's combover into thirds and you get 63 feet--which is exactly what the Eagles picked up. You could sense it in the sellout crowd, that formerly raucous group of rip-their-heads-off Giants fans who wanted both blood and destruction. They sensed it. They KNEW it! Something was amiss in the Big Apple. Up until that point, I was nervous. But the way the Beloved Birds marched down the field allowed me to peek through my hands, which were covering my eyes, allowed me to peek through just enough to see past the horror and into the light...and it was good.

The halftime adjustment involved Andy Reid saying he was going to eat a couple of Giants' players, while Tom Coughlin's plan was a little more complex. It seemed to hover between folding the whole tent show up quicker than a bunch of carnies who just had an accident on the ferris wheel and deciding who wanted to go home more: The Giants defense, who, in spite of a safety for intentional grounding in the first half, couldn't add a single sack to their season-leading 40+ quarterback crunches. Or was it Eli manning, who just started throwing the ball to Eagles defenders in a desperate attempt to get home more quickly? Or John Carney, who couldn't hit the ocean if he was kicking from the rocks off Montauk. Or was it the Giants entire O-line who couldn't gain 14" inches in two plays on fourth down. It's hard to say.

So, the Eagles are flying high, once again one game away from the SuperBowl, while the Giants, who took the trip last year can only lick their wounds, measure out twenty yards again and again, and wonder what could have been. But, all is not lost, my friends.

At least T.O. is bringing the popcorn!!!!!!