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.

Feasting on the NFC East

If Thanksgiving reminded us of anything, it's to be thankful for the NFC East, in spite of the baked and basted Eagles.

The division is mouthwatering, stuffed like a festive bird with all the trimmings---entertaining quarterbacks, rumbling pass rushers, gruff coaches and most importantly, rivalries of immense theatre. That's the key element in prolonging the peak of interest, defying the natural occurrence of a singular crescendo---the theatre of unpredictability. And the reigning champion New York Giants are about as unpredictable as it gets; the Cowboys as disappointing; the Redskins as thrilling; and the Eagles, well, as unseasoned. A dramatic stage has been set.

Already the Redskins deserve a standing ovation. Here was a club, so grossly commandeered from behind the offensive line and via the headset for years, you wondered if owner, Daniel Snyder, might be an even worse distributor of funds than, say, James Cameron, or Michael Bay---both world beaters in that category. Washington is suddenly more animated than Avatar ever was. 

The yet to be knighted Robert Griffin III provides the 'Skins a spread of offensive treats so sumptuous, the half-smoked hot dog from Ben's Chili Bowl is salivating. Certainly his running is a worry for defenders because truly good runners are capricious. Griffin not only cuts, he swivels and launches. It's untenable. But it's something further with him---he's unnerving. Michael Vick can tear past and edge, and yet, his presence doesn't unhinge ends in the same way. Not anymore. Griffin's attack, by contrast, is illusive as he probes for space with his feet, squeezes the ball into gaps as if it were malleable, and he finds room for that hair inside his helmet, perhaps that most unreal feat of all. 

Now that Washington is on a roll, it's feasible they could be carving Christmas turkey with a sense of comfort only a divisional leader can savour. But let's not belittle the Giants. All New Yorkers, not just those of grand political stature, or of regimented blue uniform, fight to the bitter end. It's just their way. So we should assume Big Blue Defense & Co. will bust through any complacency, and ultimately crash the playoffs. It's inevitable and you know it.

So which end of the saloon does that leave the Cowboys? In view of the leggy blonde eyeing out a Springsteen number on the Jukebox, or mumbling into a Miller Lite in the darkened corner beneath the elk? Perhaps halfway up the bar, with neither a shot at Dancing in the Dark, nor receiving hallucinatory advice from a mounted deer.

Tony Romo and Dez Bryant connected on two splendid touchdowns against the Redskins on Thanksgiving Day, which is presumably easy on your home turf and in front of a famous country singer. But for all the Cowboys' wild talent, Romo's relentless gun-slinging, and Bryant's powerful stride, they are surely victims of their own expectations. And ten gallons of good intention can't overcome that.

Against the Burgundy and Gold, America's Team stared down the barrel of a 25-point deficit---and Jerry Jones' distasteful glare---and yet, Romo bullet-holed the opposing defense like it was the O.K. Corral. Four-hundred and forty-one yards worth of spirals from the Dallas quarterback's arm later, the smoke cleared and Griffin's grin sparkled. 

Somewhat like his hero, John Elway, Griffin has that intangible knack for success. This irrepressibility is proving the difference in the NFL's toughest division.

Jets fishing for a playoff spot

The New York Jets need a holiday miracle to make the playoffs this season, one that requires a win in sunny Miami but also hopelessly counts on losses by other teams. One of those teams is the Tennessee Titans, quite possibly the only club more unpredictable than R-E-X-'S New York.

Jets coach Rex Ryan is the master grandstander who promotes his team better than he manages it. As such the Jets who regularly follow the Patriots in the standings and struggle to overcome rivals like the Dolphins seem a great deal more intimidating than they actually are.

That’s always been the point of the Ryan-led Jets though hasn’t it? To be scarier than the Big Blue, the Big Tuna, Big Ben or any other NFL bully. But when push comes to shove Gang Green is largely uninspiring on offense. That’s never a good sign when thwarting high-scoring division foes is imperative to your survival.

For what it's worth, the team's rushers are capable of storming the trenches and can help the Jets eat up the clock. Against the Giants, for instance, the Jets squeezed the ball for 36 minutes. The problem is that it's less productive time than it should be: in the first half the so-called home team couldn't muster a single play of more than 20 yards. You can't even win a daiquiri-infused game of touch at Secretary Cleary's house with that output.

Sure, quarterback Mark Sanchez completes a few brisk passes here and there. Sometimes he even extends the play and zings it near the first down marker. But of course those sequences too are trivial if they don’t prolong the drive. Still, Sanchez throws these balls soundly, as he should. It's mostly when he flings down field that his lack of accuracy really hamstrings the Jets attack. When they needed pivotal deep yardage against the G-Men, for example, the offense continually floundered - converting just 4 of 21 on third down. And yet Coach Rex Ryan kept dialing up the pass as if Broadway Joe was commanding his huddle. Off-Broadway Sanchez threw an unconscionable 59 times.

The Jets QB is a confounding talent really: tough, nimble, exuberant and industrious, but short on patience and vision. He’s restless in the pocket. His feet shuffle and his throws leave the hand like he's tossing softballs into an apple basket - with anxious focus. Then conversely he’ll pop the secondary with a couple of carefree darts. Who knows which carnival game he might favor on any given play.

It's hard to see the Jets overcoming a stout Dolphins defense this final week. It certainly won't happen if Sanchez does more passing than handing off: he just doesn't have the repertoire to counter the likes of Vontae Davis, Yeremiah Bell or Karlos Dansby. No, Sanchez is at his best when dropping it short on acute routes of around eight or nine yards. Those angles are easy, quick to locate, and the ball hits its target before defenders can manoeuvre inside.

But as reassuring as this brand of football is for the Jets, it’s a low-octane, scaled-back approach that has hampered their postseason chances. Quick jabs might wear down Kansas City but won’t knock the Dolphins’ knees.

If only Rex could devise a strategy as boisterous as the one he brings to the podium.

Article first published as Jets Fishing for a Playoff Spot on Technorati.