Giant Inspiration

If you were watching what happened in a movie, you'd have never believed it. It was too perfect, too much of a dramatic turnaround to be truthful.

It gets more unbelievable the deeper you get into the story. Take a young quarterback, right out of college. He's good, good enough to have won several awards, just not the Heisman, the big prize for college footballers. The kid gets drafted by a team in a small-to-medium sized market, a team that with only 4 wins the previous season has earned the right to pick first from the eligible college pool, but just before the draft occurs, the kid tells the team if they draft him, he won't sign a contract. Already, before he throws one pass, the kid looks like a jerk, maybe one with a chip on his shoulder. After all, his older brother is already in the NFL, having made a huge debut as a rookie quarterback himself years earlier.

The kid wants to play for a big market team, and luckily there's one that wants him in the biggest market there is, New York City. Big team makes deal with small team, giving up the rights to pick college players later that year and the next year, plus trading away the player they'd snagged with their first-round pick. The kid goes to New York, and after such a costly trade, the spotlight is on him.

His first year, however, the kid doesn't start. The team shepherds him along by giving him a mentor, a veteran QB on the tail end of his short career. Halfway through the season, the veteran falters, and the coach puts the kid in as starter for the rest of the season. He loses five in a row, finally winning the last game with a late touchdown. The next two years, the kid is inconsistent, his performance rating far below his contemporaries. The public sours to him, the press routinely referring to him in disparaging headlines.

Now we're in the kid's fourth season, and the most public face (and mouth) of his big city team quits and jumps into television, using his very first broadcasts to tear the kid's reputation apart, calling his attempts at leadership comical, even laughing about whether the kid's "testes [were] finally dropping." The season starts and the team loses the first two games, their opponents scoring a total of 80 points against them. The press writes them off for the year, no one thinking an 0-2 team could bounce back after such a blow. They're down 7 points going into the fourth quarter of their third game when they score twice, putting them up seven, but their opponent drives them downfield in the final seconds of the game. All seems lost, until the defense successfully keeps them out of the end zone, a demonstration of will and strength that will keep the kid's team believing the rest of the season. The following week, they begin a display of defensive force unlike anything they could have hinted at in the weeks prior. Offensive linemen are knocked aside, all-star quarterbacks are plowed into the turf before they can get rid of the ball. The rest of the team is excelling, setting the stage for the kid to come into his own.

But he's still struggling with interceptions and weak decisions. His team wins six in a row, but not against any particularly strong teams. In a rematch against their division leader, they lose again, unable to score a touchdown at all in the second half. A squeakout win the next week, a complete blowout loss the next and two narrow wins follow, but the team is losing key players to season-ending injuries. A loss in a nationally-broadcast game and a win against a low-ranked opponent sends the team into the playoffs in a wild-card berth and brings the kid to his biggest opponent in the last week of the season: The Perfect Team.

No one else has been able to stop The Perfect Team all season. They score an average over 35 points per game. Their star receiver is the best in the game, and is not afraid to tell you so. They've won three Super Bowls in the past six seasons. Their quarterback...well, their quarterback is perceived to be everything the kid isn't. He's confident, a passing machine. He'll close the season with a record 50 touchdown passes. He's a brand name, the darling of the media, a serial-dater of women unattainable to mere mortal men. He's just dumped his actress girlfriend in her eighth month of pregnancy with his baby, but this scandal can't touch him or his greatness as he merely picks up where he left off with the biggest supermodel around, squiring her to all the best nightclubs and into the gossip pages, mostly in the kid's team city, outmatching him socially without blinking. Prepare all you want, work out all you want, practice all you want. YOU WILL NOT BEAT THE PERFECT TEAM.

But the kid isn't phased. He doesn't even look tense. The press, so used to seeing star athletes showing the strain of achievement on their faces like a tribal tattoo, can't reconcile the kid's desire and heart with his puppydog expression. The press even questions the coach, wondering why he'd bother playing the game at all instead of sending in his second-string.

The anticipation for the game is unprecendented for a regular season matchup. Three national networks carry the game. Everyone wants to see The Perfect Team get their Perfect Season.

But someone forgets to tell the kid. He's solid on his feet, throwing for over 250 yards and four touchdowns. In the end, The Perfect Team squeaks by, winning by 3, tying their most narrow point margin all season. Out of this loss, however, a new fire begins to fuel the kid and his team. They know now what they are capable of. They are confident. They're not perfect, but they're hungry.

Every expert in the game says they'll lose in their first playoff game. After all, the quarterback they're facing has beaten them before.

They win, and handily, taking the lead in the second quarter and not looking back.

Every expert in the game says they'll lose in their second playoff game. After all, they're facing a team that's beaten them twice this season, won the division they share and features the next great quarterback leading America's Team.

They win, limiting America's Team to three points in the second half.

Every expert in the game says they'll lose in their third playoff game. After all, they're facing a great veteran quarterback in what could be his last season, a fantasy season that has captivated the media with its poignancy, plus they'll be playing in sub-freezing temperatures in the other team's storied stadium amidst their avid fans.

They win there too, in a game that would be a nail-biter if you dared expose your bare fingers in the -24 degree wind chill. Tied at the end of regulation, their opponent wins the coin toss in overtime and gets the ball first. The veteran begins his storybook drive to the end zone---and throws an interception. The kid gets back on the field and can't get very far. They call on their kicker, who has already missed two field goals that day due to bad snaps from frozen fingers. This time, the snap is good, the kick is good.

The kid is going to the Super Bowl.

Against The Perfect Team.

Every expert and every casual expert and every once-in-a-blue-moon football fan and everyone who watches just for the commercials says they'll lose the Super Bowl to The Perfect Team. The onslaught of dazzling offense and experienced defense will knock them silly. Despite their post-season achievements, the kid and his teammates are still 12-point underdogs. They won't win. They can't win. They'll be playing against destiny and they don't stand a chance.

But they do win the game. It's not pretty or graceful or even perfect, but when it looks like they're down and won't be able to scratch their way back, the kid pulls his team down the field and scores the winning touchdown. They and he are finally celebrated as champions, respected as great players and heralded as making a historic contribution to the game. More people see him named the most valuable player than have seen any other sporting event.

Millions watched this unfold as fans. I watched the game on Sunday and felt inspired. Eli Manning has been maligned by the press, booed by fans and at best underestimated by his opponents, yet he still was able to keep focused on the game, perform at his best and lead his team to fight together, and after the Giants won the Super Bowl, he didn't gloat, didn't brag. He stayed humble and respectful, even on the world stage where he could have said anything in his defense.

This is the measure of a man, a champion, a hero. This is a giant inspiration. Thank you, Eli.