Football's Trendiest Picks For 2014

Just before the NFL season starts, a few people lose their minds. It's as if the pent up energy sends them into a Pacino-like rage and before you know it they're snarling at friends and colleagues about the Chargers chances of going to the Super Bowl, and how YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT THEY KNOW!

Many of these people work in the field of NFL speculation and report this to us online, where they routinely share such fun facts as Alex Smith will never be more than a game manager and that the Jags are on an almighty ascension. Oh, and the 49ers will be lucky to make the playoffs.

Huh? I suppose E should've stopped pursuing Sloan too?

As always there are other tasty morsels being tossed our way as the pro football table is set, and among those are the following:

Keys to Carr

Derek Carr is the starting QB in Oakland and this was the right move for a floundering organisation, we're told. Schaub is done, apparently, his arm now as heavy as the same slab of meat used in his infamous sandwich. We can debate the pros and cons of this decision all night but one thing's clear, and that is the Raiders may have had their eye patches on the wrong side all this time.

Then there's the Giants, who despite winning everything in the preseason will supposedly be abysmal offensively. Eli, it's no surprise, is the Mr Hyde to Peyton's Doctor Jekyll. It'll always be this way because Eli is an easy target—and he plays in a media market which excels at target practice. At least Dunkin' Donuts believes in him.

Monsters and BBQ

How about the Bears? Do enough people have them pencilled in for the Super Bowl yet? Listen, Cutler's arm is its own monster of the Midway, but the defense couldn't rouse a sleep-deprived Godzilla. 

More than a few experts who were bullish on the Bills last season and not so on the Jets, now see New York trending up and Buffalo sinking. What's changed? Well, I guess Smith was slightly better than Manuel last year, and neither of them came close to matching Tannehill in Miami. So logically, most pundits have the Fish finishing behind them both. 

Perhaps the most stunning withdrawal of faith is in Kansas City, a squad that did everything right last season until their points party with the Colts in the playoffs. That gutting loss will apparently be too much for the Chiefs to overcome this year, many say, despite them boasting the league's third best rusher, one of the game's most efficient passers, a potential terrifying pass rush, and the country's top bbq joints. Andy Reid is no slouch either, but maybe his tropical shirts suggest otherwise.

Throw a Dog a Bone

Hey I almost forgot, Philly will get to the big one, we're told. Yes, that's the Nick Foles led Eagles. Well, it's possible, I guess. Everyone thought Ivan Drago was impossible to overcome, didn't they? But why has the mob suddenly soured on RGIII and Washington?One minute you're the poster child for scintillation, the next your knee is less trusted than a slick new candidate on the hill. Where's Jaws when you need him?

Lastly, no hype reel would be complete without the Cleveland Manziels. You can understand why fans want Johnny Football on the field because behind the team's athletic o-line, he may just weave some magic not seen since the Kosar era. Then again, he might get crushed under a pile of slobbery dog bones.

Eli Shoots For The Stars On Broadway

Eli Manning might be more divisive than the new Turtles movie. At least the heroes-in-a-half-shell never seemed to care about their detractors. 

Eli, on the other hand, well, he's more contemplative.

It's a funny thing playing quarterback in New York, mostly because you're only as good as your last down, or fur coat purchase for that matter. Consider that Eli is a two-time Super Bowl champ and yet an all-time punching bag among pundits. Some seem to especially resent his penchant for suddenly improbable moments, and those people are usually Patriots fans, like Grantland’s head honcho Bill Simmons. 

The Sports Guy is right that Manning pulls passes out of his rear in a way that'd make Copperfield gush. But by the same token, you might say the Giants signal-caller simply has guts. I’m not talking about the sort of big ones it takes to ask out Gisele Bundchen, but the kind that leads you to toss a prayer into the swirling Meadowlands winds in front of 80,000 screaming fans. Gisele turns you down, at least you’re going home with your cool hair and in a sports car. But blow a big pass in New York and you’re spending the night in the shadows of the MetLife concourse my friend.

The point is that I admire Eli for his understated bravado. He’s like the quietly over-confident movie friend who thinks he’s got a chance with Emma Stone's character. The shame is he just might, if he’d stop wearing shades in the cafeteria.

Apparently most Giants fans agree that the younger Manning still has special something to offer. In fact, about 74% of people in a NJ.com poll said they still had faith in often maligned QB, as of this week. That’s a stronger vote of confidence than I’m sure Big Apple fans would be willing to give Jets pilot Geno Smith. "EEhhh Geno, whenareyouagonnalearnah?!"

Ahead of Eli's eleventh season, the G-Men think tank ordered in the playbook made famous on the opposite coast. Yes, starting in early September, you’ll see New York’s No.10 make shorter drops and more promptly let it fly as he looks for high percentage reads—Joe Montana style. This West Coast move is aimed at curtailing his errors and presumably will give the offense a better chance of avoiding three-and-outs.

However, many writers have jumped on the audacious 70% completion goal the Giants have scribbled at the top of Eli's To Do list, deriding it as a hard target for the best ever, let alone a QB who's never surpassed the 63% mark. Fair enough, but this system will give New York's receivers a chance to improve, and I'd count on Manning to make it work. 

Others, like Neil Paine of Five Thirty Eight also contend that the idea of trying to mitigate mistakes doesn't always pay off. I can't argue this, especially when we know Eli can drop his head faster than Matt Schaub's in a Houston deli if things go off course. On a cool night at Lincoln Financial Field, with the boos raining down and your palms sweatier than the day Cougar turned in his wings, you might rather see Eli heave a few speculators, right? 

Time, and Manning's timing, will tell.

If pro QBs moonlighted at your local deli

A photo taken at a Houston-based restaurant rounded the web recently because of its tongue-in-cheek dig at Texans quarterback, Matt Schaub.

The shop's sandwich board read:

Matt Schaub special - Pick Six - Toppings for you burger.

The clever idea got us thinking, what if pro quarterbacks actually moonlighted at your neighborhood deli?

So without further ado...

If Peyton Manning worked your local deli counter, orders would change last second and hit your hands before you looked up.

If Ben Roethlisberger worked your local deli counter, your pastrami on rye would end up sacked in a steaming heap.

If Geno Smith worked your local deli counter, Rex Ryan would insist a sub be named after him.

If Alex Smith worked your local deli counter, sandwiches would be quick and precise, but mostly under-appreciated.

If Cam Newton worked your local deli counter, the service would dazzle but leave you wanting more.

If Aaron Rodgers worked your local deli counter, it'd be high quality but relentless reviews by sports anchors would leave an unsavory taste.      
 
If Jay Cutler worked your local deli counter, orders would fly out with extra mustard and a sprinkle of disdain.

If Tony Romo worked your local deli counter, all wrong orders would be blamed on him, even on his day off.

If Carson Palmer worked your local deli counter, the turnovers would stand out.

Titans of the throwing industry

Among the many strange criticisms of Eli Manning is that he looks like a 12-year old. Even David Letterman was taken aback by the Super Bowl champ's fresh faced appearance last week. 

"It seems to me you've gotten younger since the last time I saw you," Letterman said.

"I have," Eli quipped. 

That Eli appeared stiffly in a blue blazer and maroon tie, his hair parted to one side like a Lego man, should not be an indictment of his personality - and yet, for many people it continues to be. An inordinate number of media and fans just don't to like the younger Manning, or at least, see him as an easy target. He's not accurate enough: that comes up, doesn't it? And sure, he's about a 58 per cent career passer. (But then again, he's thrown for 27, 579 yards and 185 touchdowns). Other people like to call Eli lucky, as if to say, his industrious and determined nature have nothing to do with his success. Aren't lucky athletes, simply quick-thinking, inventive and opportunistic?

The bottom line is that Eli isn't really cool. He's nice. He's the guy you'd like your sister to bring home. He's the opposite of Tom Brady, whose sharp looks and contemplated hair, perfect passes and cool nature, and broad shoulders and leggy wife, are all so fantastical that most people can't stomach hearing about his success. As fans, we can certainly be pedantic can't we? We don't like the goofy, and we tear down the  fashionable. What's the middle ground, Aaron Rodgers? Maybe. He's not perfect either, you know.     

Part of the problem is that the quarterback-jock icon is embedded in our minds, mostly due to Seventies and Eighties coming-of-age movies. He’s the guy with the delicate mane of hair, the Cruise-esque smile that looks hinged by screws, and obviously, the busty blonde cheerleader girlfriend on his arm. Life is charmed for the high school QB: consider that nobody else can wear painfully tight stone-washed jeans and still claim the respect of his friends.

It’s not until a QB hits the pro ranks, however, that he's personality is truly tested, that he earns his strips. He’s no longer dating the head cheerleader but rather, a supermodel; he’s paid in millions of dollars instead of cafeteria hamburgers on-the-house; and most importantly, he competes in a world that offers immortal status to those who excel - the Hall of Fame. It's high pressure, relentless scrutiny and a position that requires constant off-field maintenance along with on-field results. Just imagine having to cope with that in your own career.

When thinking about the coolest quarterback cats ever, the men whom somehow dodged the critical rush and thrived in all facets of modern athletic superstardom, Jim McMahon springs to mind. McMahon, a wise-cracking, showboating prankster, who had a penchant for headbands and big sunglasses, was also a skilled signal-caller who didn't care about what you thought. Boasting a strong arm and an uncanny knack for reading the game, McMahon was of that rare breed who could impact a contest with larger than life presence. He  took things into his own hands, seemingly in retaliation to the regimented and stern regime of Head Bear, Mike Ditka, and because he seemed unfazed by consequence. This deliberate bravado, and perhaps angst, helped him conquer the NFL, even when he appeared wildly out of control. At Super Bowl XX, for instance, when asked by reporters about a buttock injury, McMahon dropped his pants and mooned them. And on his own Letterman appearance in 1986, McMahon slouched and grinned behind oversized sunglasses like he was trying to impress the other kids in class. It was frigging awesome.

While McMahon was loose and aloof, Brett Favre was everyman tough - and that made him likable, or at least "relatable". Off the field, their were some misgivings, to be sure. But before all that, Favre defined "gunslinger" and in turn, built a persona based on heroics and hi-jinks. After all, he ripped a locker room towel whip with as much fervor as a 40-yard Hail Mary. That's the sort of teammate everybody wants. He performed the immaculate, and still always felt so mortal.

There are of course so many popular quarterbacks, from Unitas to Montana, Staubach to Elway, and perhaps the NFL's smoothest all-time operator, Joe Namath (GQ magazine included Namath in its 25 Coolest Athletes of All Time in 2011). But in this pantheon of football poster men, a guy whose name surprisingly logs less Google or YouTube searches than others, is Warren Moon. Some pundits say Moon went undrafted in the NFL because he was black. Others simply question his suitability as a quarterback. Without trivializing the situation, it was perhaps a blessing that Moon ended up in the Canadian Football League anyway, firstly to improve his game, and secondly, to stick it to the doubters. Resilience and defiance, too, have been known to motivate people in the bleachers.

During six seasons with the Edmonton Eskimos, Moon commandeered an unprecedented five consecutive Grey Cup championship runs and threw for 21,288 yards and 144 touchdown passes. After proving his wares, it was of little surprise that the NFL finally came calling. Moon moved to Houston and instantly restored pride to the pastel blue. Among his many achievements in the American game, he joined the Dans - Marino and Fouts - as the only quarterbacks to post back-to-back 4,000-yard seasons. And if you're still unconvinced that Moon deserves to be in this conversation, just remember that he is the only player ever to be inducted into both the CFL and NFL Halls of Fame. That's at least astounding, if not cool. 

While so many football writers and commentators fawn over the feats of Rodgers and Brees, Moon cooly, calmly and without event, threw 70,613 yards in the CFL and NFL combined. He was one of the purest, most elegant passers ever, who spiraled the ball as if it was on a spindle. And he did it repeatedly. If that doesn't steal the head cheerleader's attention, I don't know what will.

NY Giants: bigger and bluer, in the end

It began in sections, like the disjointed parts of a Picasso painting: angled, rounded and unusually colored. We were ushered into the NFC Championship with a rousing anthem and then drawn closer through a clouded lens. The darkened sky, sullen with gray water, rapidly descended upon Candlestick and the event became challenging, beyond its fundamental conflict, that is. The ball, soaked and looking more like a stone, suddenly slipped on the pass and bobbled on the carry. And with the game tied at seven early in the second stanza, who might have predicted the outcome of this title bout with any certainty?

The 49ers jersey seemed darker when we were kids, didn't it? It was a deep, royal red, with perfect white lettering. On Sunday, that jersey reappeared, caused by the wintry rain blanketing the Bay. On replays, in particular, the Niners' movement was striking: Frank Gore was a crimson blur chugging through the trenches. It reminded me of Roger Craig.

By contrast, the Giants white was spoiling fast, bright at a distance but muddied and paint-stained on every close up. Some might say, much like New York City itself. They defended well, the New Yorkers, superbly rushing the passer in the pocket, but equally closing the space behind the line whenever Alex Smith traversed beyond it. By second-quarter's end, the fans were drenched and the Giants, somehow, seemed to have the upper hand by virtue of their defensive presence. 

Eli Manning also threw first downs - short and sharp routes on consecutive plays. These advanced the Giants momentum, as their running game was stifled by those darkened red shirts. The Niners' Alex Smith, though not strictly employed for his running ability, carried the ball more effectively than the Giants back field, mostly because his nimble jabs are conducive to wet conditions. So Eli kept throwing, sending wobbly spirals to Victor Cruz who has better hands than Spiderman. Cruz's eight first-half receptions for 125 yards seemed to be wholly accumulated in the final minute of second. Either way, his significant contribution aided New York's ten first-half points.

And then the Niners opened the third like bulls let loose in Pamplona. They stunted the Giants first drive and won back possession. A dash by Smith and a crafty run by Kendall Hunter and suddenly San Francisco looked the better team. Soon after, Alex Smith, who had tossed just a few accurate balls this game, heaved a brilliant spinning loop to Vernon Davis in the end zone. It appears as though any time these two connect it results in a big play. He must be the fastest tight end in the game today.

The game trudged towards the end of the third. Foggy camera lenses gave the illusion that we were watching a dream - one where you can smell the surrounds so distinctly, but can't influence the action. Maybe it was indeed a dream, because the 49ers - a club we'd all but forgotten this last decade - were beating down the mighty Giants of New York. One more quarter of Jason Pierre-Paul to withstand; just a few of Eli's chance long balls yet to zip by; and only several more charges from New York's tough rushers to endure. But the Niners are masters of lingering, not so much finishing. And at some point, one of those Eli passes was going to travel the necessary distance without interruption. As some point Blue dots would dominate the landscape.

Sure enough, Manning to Manningham! - long overdue in this game –  and the Giants took the lead again. But San Francisco, equal to the task, then marched down field, once more behind Alex Smith's running. His 17-yard sprint around the edge surely prompted recollections of Playoff Steve Young across the country. Why did we all doubt this guy so much? Wasn't it evident that he had talent, just the wrong coaching? David Akers - the man with the happiest profile photo in the NFL - evened the score and there we were, facing a mouth-watering finale.  

The defenses dictated the dwindling minutes of regulation, sending their best rushers through holes and over human barriers with the desperation of cavalries making one last commitment. Both quarterbacks took their licks: Eli, by game's end, looked like distraught grade schooler, disheveled and depleted after a frenzied day in the school yard. At times, his pads jutting from his collar, and a mouth full of grass - or even his own chin strap - Manning played the part of Phil Simms in this one: tough, resilient, and able to sling the game into impossible moments. It was the sort of performance that defenders appreciate, where broken plays are extended into new sets of downs, and battered warriors can heal until their next clash.

Finally, in overtime, the whole thing had run its course, like a boxing match on its last legs, winded and woozy. It was just a matter of who could survive the last gasp blows. The Niners had done so much right, especially on the defensive end, where they affected the New York ground game by holding it under 90 yards. But in the end, the G-Men showed a durability that will serve them well in the Super Bowl. They kept coming on defense with that line that doesn't relent. It held the Niners to less than 30 minutes of possession, but perhaps more significantly, forced them into errors on more third downs than any team should endure. San Francisco converted just one of thirteen third downs, clearly an indictment of their offensive execution amid the elements.

Now the Giants return to the big one to face a Patriot team hell bent on Super Bowl revenge. But don't be so sure Brady and Co. will have all the answers for New York, who have proven time and time again, the dealing doesn't need to be pretty, it just needs to yield an opportunity for victory.

The 49ers are coming

You have to appreciate the way the Giants linemen clog the middle. Whether it’s three or four with their hands in the soil, they leave the opponent no room for error. Every time Aaron Rodgers handed to a rusher Sunday, for example, behind a Packer line ploughing with all their might, the G-Men were equal to the task. They hit each man with ferocity, stunning them in the process and unnerving the quarterback - sometimes merely by their proximity. It's a heck of task withstanding New York’s bravado, and certainly most hardened locals wouldn't have it any other way. As native Billy Joel once sang, "There's a storm front coming." In other words, get outta the way!

This Sunday, the 49ers defense will also be called into duty, to a battle more savage than the last. The NFL's No.1 rushing defense will attempt to slow the newly awoken Giants offense, which is now armed – again - with a formidable running game. But this encounter is as much about matching the Giant defensive output as it is shutting down Eli and Co. And if any unit can rival the G-Men tack for tackle, it's the Niners. One of the game's most prolific passers in Drew Brees quickly discovered that last weekend, as he was hurried like a bassist trying to stay in step with Satchmo's trumpet. The Saints went marching in, but the Niners came marching out.

With Justin Smith ripping through linemen like they’re papier-maché, his perpetual motion impossible to escape, Eli will be on his toes all game. And how about Dashon Goldson and Patrick Willis, lurking about the second level with the type of snarl that makes the timid go to ground? The Niners defense is not only stout, as many writers like to label it, it's relentless, pestering and anxiety-inducing. Why would anyone want to play these guys in a sodden Candlestick with a slippery ball, and before a salivating crowd emotionally charged by the return of meaningful football?

For weeks now we’ve been told how good the Saints and Packers offenses are, and yet we know find ourselves closer to the Super Bowl and not a Saint or a Packer in sight. Instead of offense, we await the meeting of two potent defenses in this NFC Championship, a colossal duel between the Big Blue and Big Red. It'll be a tight contest, I suspect, with each offense nullifying the other in testing conditions. In the end, this will be resolved by the 49ers defense, which is not only physically energized but mentally clear. Jim Harbaugh seems to have mastered this aspect of coaching, and so I fully expect the Niners to be steely and decisive. They'll create panic around Manning who's best chance is to hop away from the rush, sometimes awkwardly so, and look long, in the hope that his talented receivers can outrun the coverage. It'll be easier said than done though, in a setting made for a San Francisco ambush, and yet another turn at the big dance.

This article is also featured on Roto Experts Xtra Point Football.