Once again a Sunday afternoon had to be filled with shots to the booth of Father Manning. Yes that Manning! The one who never had a winning season in the NFL. The father who had the nerve to steer his direction-less son Eli to act like a diva on draft day and say "No! My daddy says I don't have to play for you!" The inevitable barrage of Peyton commercials was pretty light, but I'm guessing the network sensed overload if the 3-headed Manning Monster took too much spotlight from Brett Favre at Lambeau. Of course over the next 2 weeks of over-hyped bull pucky there will be the angle that the family name will carry New York to its 1st championship since 1990. The berth in the 2000 Stupor Bowl is not recognized by this blog(Especially since Trent Dilfer was the opposing/winning QB). All the talk of maturity and growth for Brother Eli can be seen when his 3rd down passes drop to the field and he sulks off the field like a 4 year old who just dropped his ice cream cone. Although I doubt that ever happened since Daddy was probably there to tell him that cone didn't deserve him anyway.
Let's get the pleasantries out of the way. The New York Football Giants have scratched and clawed their way during a roller coaster season into the Super Bowl. Enjoy the next 10 minutes or so. That's about all you have until you realize that Bill Belichick has already dissected every nuance of your defense. He has planned for all your formations and is now probably pouring over your latest X-rays looking for that weak spot in your femur that will crack when supplied with enough pressure. Brother Eli will see plenty of blitzes and may become very familiar with the crown of Rodney Harrison's helmet. #10 true colors will shine through in the desert when Vrabel, Thomas and Say-Ow give him a collapsed pocket and hershey skids. Good luck Eli. Your ass is grass homeboy. I hope Daddy will be there to hold your hand when you are embarrassed by the Foxboro Dynasty in February.
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