You're a Good Manning, Charlie Brown

Super Bowl XLII won’t be remembered for Charles Barkley talking Dwayne Wade’s ears off.

It won’t be remembered Tom Petty’s stiff renditions of ‘80's classics, the elements that hindered the previous Super Bowl, or Frank Caliendo’s best John Madden impersonations.

It won’t be remembered as a coronation of kings who eagerly waited their chance to be crowned as if it were their birthright. These are all things that would be remembered from a blowout, of course, which many expected.

In the light of new “Spygate” revelations, and given the New England Patriots history of disproving cheating allegations by crushing every opponent like they were playing for the BCS, many thought Bill Belichick would shoot for triple digits.

Instead, Super Bowl XLII won’t be remembered like super blowouts of yesteryear, or for the 1972 Miami Dolphins reluctantly welcoming new neighbors to Perfectville.

It will be remembered for Charlie Brown finally getting that Coca-Cola.

There were a lot of Charlie Browns in Glendale, Ariz. Sunday night. And both the New England Patriots and the New York Giants played either the humble, aw-shucks Chuck who got the football pulled from underneath him by Lucy, or the born-again Charles-in-Charge.

That famous Peanuts character represents those who wait their whole lives for that one time they can prove their world wrong. And given the fact that Chuck never disappointed everyone who expected only disappointment from him, there was no reason to believe things would ever change.

Just like there was no reason to believe the all-mighty, undefeated, multi-faceted, highest-scoring, opponent-humiliating, genius-led, greatest-of-all-time Patriots would lose the Super Bowl to a Giants team they had already beaten in the Meadowlands.

Those same Patriots were arrogant enough to believe 2:39 left, three timeouts, a two minute warning weren’t enough for a kid from Ole Miss to engineer a comeback that needed seven, not three.

New England didn’t seem surprised by the Giants performance even as Tom Brady led his offense down the field trailing 10-7. It was only the second time that evening they resembled the scoring machine that had posted 18 consecutive wins. Only one running play was called the entire drive and why not, considering the Patriots offense usually does whatever it wants to opposing defenses?

And the Patriots played to character, eschewing Lawrence Maroney for all but one nine-yard dash because they’re the Patriots, and they can do whatever they want. Right?

Brady went 8-for-11 for 71 yards and capped the five-minute, twelve-second drive with a six yard touchdown to none other than Randy Moss–the man who helped his quarterback pass Peyton Manning in the single-season TD pass department, while forgetting to acknowledge the previous record holder, the greatest, Jerry Rice.

Eight-for-Eleven. Pretty good, huh? Except for the fact the Pats could have taken even more off the 7:54 given them. Only the good Lord himself knows how much less time the Patriots could have left the Giants, if only they had been a little more greedy. Who woulda’ thunk the Patriots would be accused of not being Scrooges?

Along comes Charlie Brown, only instead of wearing his trademark yellow-and-black–a symbol of coming-up short–he was dressed in white (ironically like a cowboy). Eli Manning, who lived his entire career in shadows, emerged into the night when Gotham needed him most. Only instead of an insignia of a bat on his chest, he wore a Ten when the Giants needed a Ten the most.

It may as well have been a 19-0 on his chest. And the Patriots certainly looked like they were chasing it.

What? Charlie Brown a super hero? If you need more evidence, Eli wasn’t the only Chuck on the Giants roster.

There was David Tyree, a little-known receiver and special-teamer from Syracuse, whose closest taste of a championship was when he walked by Jim Boeheim's trophy case.

The Manning-to-Tyree connection may be remembered as the greatest catch in Super Bowl history. With 1:15 left, it was 3rd-and-5 at the Giants own 44. Manning fought off an army of Patriots, rolled to his right and launched a desperation heave to Tyree, who out-foxed Rodney Harrison for a 32-yard catch. All the HGH in the world could not have helped Harrison, or the Patriots at this point.

That play alone lasted 16 seconds and sucked the collective oxygen out of the country. Manning’s elusiveness resembled the Stewie-Underdog fight for that elusive Coca-Cola, while his pass stayed in the air longer than those two hot-air balloons.

(Was it Underdog? Or was it Huckleberry Hound? This writer’s frame of reference only goes back to Masters of the Universe.)

Not to sound blasphemous, but Revelation 8:1 says “And when he had opened the seventh seal, there was a silence in heaven about the space of a half an hour.” Somebody must have done some praying because the End of the World looked imminent if the Giants had any real chance to upset the Perfect Patriots. (Thanks, Mom. Everyone knows you’re Holy.)

Except for the pretentious Joe Buck, there was silence. Everywhere. Until Tyree came down with the ball, scraping it off his own noggin, protecting it from Harrison’s chemically-enhanced arms. It’s the catch you wish Aaron Bailey had made from Jim Harbaugh at the end of the Colts 1995 AFC championship game loss to the Steelers. It was the catch Giants fans had wished Steve Smith had made in the end zone at the end of the first half.

Speaking of which, there was Smith’s key reception on 3rd-and-11 along the right sideline after he had been goated for Eli’s lone interception, and wiffing on Big Ben Right.

While we’re baptizing Charlies, how about the ball Plaxico Burress’ caught? It was only his second of the game–but the one that earned his Giants the silver trophy from Tiffany’s.

Super Bowl XLII was supposed to be remembered as a formality. Instead it will be remembered like Super Bowl III.

It was supposed to be remembered as Tom Brady taking his place next to Jordan, Woods, Ruth and Ali and renaming the Vince Lombardi Trophy after Bill Belichick. Instead none of the greatest will need to make room, at least for now.

It was to be remembered for the 19-0 Patriots. Instead it will be remembered for a 14-6 team bailing out the ‘72 Dolphins, giving Mercury Morris another reason to sip champagne, and pat himself and his fellow teammates on the back.

And good for them. You try going undefeated sometime. (Like the 1994, 14-0, Silver Creek Jr. High Basketball team, coached by Wayne Hotelling, or a 20-0 JV team coached by Eric Johengen.)

Super Bowl XLII was to be remembered for a Patriot reign. Instead it was “just” a Giant win.

The only team considered to have ANY chance to beat the Patriots was led by a guy named Manning. Peyton, that is.

Instead, it will be remembered for the “other” Manning–one of many humble, Charlie Brown-like New York Giants, who finally got to kick the football, sticking-it to the Lucys everywhere. Especially those hoodie-wearing know-it-alls.

If Eli (among others) was considered Charlie Brown, Bill Belichick had to best personify Lucy van Pelt.
This was never more apparent when the “doctor” walked off the field with a second to go while his students sat there and absorbed the Super Bowl MVP’s final knee.

That MVP was labeled a “bust” by many New York pundits up until about three weeks ago. He may as well have been called a blockhead. But Eli Manning, David Tyree, and the rest of the Giants proved there was something different in the air this night. And they’d been waiting for this moment for all their lives.

Oh, Lord.

Thank you, Eli, for giving hope to all of us blockheads, everywhere.