Miracle: The Giants Win Super Bowl XLII

"We got a new trademark. '18-1, World Champion, New York Giants.' (Laughing) Write that book." - Antonio Pierce, linebacker for the Super Bowl XLII Champion New York Giants

I don't think there are strong enough words to describe how big the Giants upset of the New England Patriots was in Super Bowl XLII.

In short, this was a miracle.

Super Bowl XLII was probably the greatest football game I've ever seen from start to finish. If you thought the game wasn't good for three quarters and then only picked up when the points started flowing in the fourth, then you should just stop watching football altogether, because most likely you don't understand it. The game was crisp, tight, defensive and well-played and for once the referees didn't factor into a big game by making a bad call. It was really a classic in the making from the opening drive, when it was clear that the Giants weren't going to let the Patriots off the hook. And by the time the clock struck :00 -- or :01 if you are Bill Belichick, who ran off the field looking like Hitler running for his bunker -- the game had turned into something more than just a classic. It had become immortal.

Know how I know this was one of those games? Because the only disagreements I had with people today about it was where it ranked on the all-time list of sports upsets. The consensus seems to be that only USA/USSR actually might have topped it.

When you're being compared to USA/USSR, you know you're in rarefied air.

But this was more than just a colossal upset. If I could boil down why I watch sports into one game, this would be the game. I love sports. And part of the reason why is because the world of sports is the last place on earth where you can really get the unexpected. Fox has it right when they tag their baseball coverage "you can't script October."

Where else but sports could you see things like the Yankees choking away a 3-0 series lead to the perennial choke artist Boston Red Sox in 2004? Where else could you see the 14-point underdog New England Patriots beat the vaunted St. Louis Rams? Where else could you see the New York Giants defeat the undefeated New England Patriots?

I'll be the first to admit it. I never expected that this team could ever win a Super Bowl. The Giants were so crappy and awful in the beginning of the season, and then as late as December, played so badly that they almost didn't even make the playoffs. I can vividly remember telling my friend Kris that I hoped the Giants didn't even get in, so that we could avoid the horror of watching them get blown out by Tampa Bay in the first round. As late as December 21st, I can go on record as saying I thought this was a bad team. But the run the Giants went on in the playoffs was so unbelievable and so unexpected that even sports movie cliches can't begin to cover what happened. If you saw these games in a movie, you'd cry foul at how phony they all were.

This just doesn't happen in real life.

Kickers just don't kick 47-yard Field Goals in subzero temperatures at Green Bay to win games, after missing on two previous attempts.

Teams just don't win 11 straight road games.

Eli Manning just doesn't outplay Brett Favre and Tom Brady, two of the best quarterbacks in the history of sports.

Reserve receivers like David Tyree just don't make The Greatest Catch of All-Time (trademark pending) when the game is on the line.

Teams just don't beat four previous Super Bowl champions, on their way to winning a Super Bowl.

Like I said, this just isn't supposed to happen.

This is the first time that I've actually experienced a team I root for winning. I mean sure the Giants won in 1990, but I was like, 12. And when the Mets won in 1986, I was 8. You don't really remember those things no matter how much you'd like to. My mind is a steal trap of sports stats, IMDB pages and movie quotes, but all of that happened for me once I got to high school. Everything pre-1990 it a blur. I vaguely remember hiding behind my parents couch as Scott Norwood lined up to kick the field goal at the end of Super XXV in 1990, praying that he wouldn't make it and yet unable to watch, as if it was a scary movie.

This Super Bowl though, I'm going to remember everything.

I'm going to remember the frustration I felt as I thought the Giants should have totally been up by more points, since they really did outplay New England for most of the game, only to be trailing with 2:42 to go.

I'm going to remember 12 plays, 83 yards.

I'm going to remember the defensive line, the MVPs of the game, constantly hitting Tom Brady, who I never saw hit the ground so much in my entire life.

I'm going to remember Bill Belichick being out-coached by Tom Coughlin at every turn, and not adjusting anything with his pass protection to keep his Golden Boy quarterback upright.

I'm going to remember Eli shaking off would-be sacks and leading the Giants to the winning score with the same face and intensity that he had in Week 1 vs. Dallas.

I'm going to remember Peyton Manning looking at once so nervous and so proud of his brother, the bonds of family come to life for the world to see.

I'm going to remember Plaxico Burress legitimately crying after the game, unable to put into words what it all meant to him to score the winning touchdown.

I'm going to remember The Greatest Catch of All-Time (trademark pending) by David Tyree, who just a month ago had to bury his mother and who after the game said that he was merely a vessel for God.

Most of all, I'm going to remember the feeling that I was watching a real team. This was 53 men (and yes, the Giants were all man, through and through) coming together with one common goal in mind: doing the unthinkable; defeating the unbeatable; literally shocking the world.

The Giants epitomized all that was right with sports. Unless you were a Patriots fan, there was no excuse to be rooting for them to win this game. If you have a pulse, if you don't always want to see the little guy get pounded, hell, if you believe in anything, then you should have only been rooting for the Giants; you should have been elated when they won.

I'm a Mets fan, so I've been on the other side of this coin. I remember lying out on the floor after Carlos f'n Beltran struck out looking to end the 2006 NLCS. I remember having my heart ripped out in 2000 when the Mets couldn't beat the Yankees, the ultimate demoralizing loss in a lifetime of demoralizing losses for the Mets. Recently the only joy I've gotten out of sports was watching the Yankees lose year after year. But even wallowing in the schadenfreude of their losses doesn't do it for me anymore. I can say that my sports fandom had suffered a crisis of faith. Rather than hope for the best, I expected the worst. As the song says, at every occasion I am ready for the funeral.

The 2007 Giants made me believe again. Moments like this show you that anything is really possible. Sure that's dime store, fortune cookie philosophy -- and most of the time, even I don't buy that sentiment -- but every once in a while, something incredible happens to make you believe; something happens that smacks you around and gives you hope. The Giants made me feel like a 12-year-old again. They gave me that feeling of euphoria that can only happen when the team you root for wins.

In a television year that will be marked again by the writer's strike, I doubt I will experience anything like this again on the Farnsworth Invention in 2008. Back in December, I wrote about how the third season of LOST was the best show of the year, because despite it's slow start, bad episodes and few missteps, no show was a better television watching experience. The New York Giants are football's version of LOST. There were better players, better coaches and better teams, but when all was said and done -- when it all came together -- they were the last men standing.

I laughed. I cried. I was amazed.