"When you wish upon a star
Makes no difference who you are
Anything you heart desires
Will come to you...
Eli Manning! You and the New York Giants just thwarted Bill Belichick's plans for world domination! What are you going to do now?"
"Um ... Well, first I'm going to grab my bomb-ass girlfriend and bang her like sex is going to be illegal as of 6 a.m. tomorrow. You have no idea what a win like this does to your libido. I feel like I could impregnate every hot chick in the five boroughs just by looking at them right now.
Then, I'll probably hit every dance club in Manhattan with a VIP section. I'm going to sit in all of Jeter's corner booths, where he usually macks it with a honey on each arm. How long has it been since you won a ring, Jeter? Eight years? Yeah ... eight years is a long time in Enn Why See. Oh wait, I think I'm getting a cell phone call, Jeets ... yeah, it's Mark Messier. He wants to have some coffee with you, talk about those good old days back in the '90s when you all ruled New York.
Then, I'll probably talk to Peyton. I used to be insanely jealous of him. But now that Tom Brady is the Manning Family Bitch, I just want to hug him and play a dysfunctionally-competitive game of Monopoly with him. You know, the kind where the loser flips the board off the table before he can actually lose.
Then, I'll probably open a restaurant with ... what? Say what line? Oh ... then I'll go to Disney World."
Some of the more notable snippets from Bill Belichick's postgame presser:
"...wubba wubba wubba made more plays than we did wubba wubba wubba good game wubba wubba wubba fuck the world wubba wubba wubba don't know what else to say wubba wubba wubba I want to drown kittens and club baby seals wubba wubba wubba...."
Eli was awarded a Cadillac Escalade for winning the Super Bowl MVP. Some people think Eli should give the Caddy to David Tyree. I think he should give it to Corey Webster.
Webster's knock-away of Brady's desperation heave to Randy Moss on the Pats' final drive honestly won the game. If Brady finds Moss -- and he almost did -- that pass is worth six points and an undefeated season, or at the very least, a game-tying field goal that leads to overtime, the inevitable New England win on the coin flip and a subsequent game-winning field goal.
Webster managed to prevent Moss from reaching back to catch an underthrown pass, and he did it without incurring a pass intereference call.
You know and I know if that's the Browns and Leigh Bodden is covering Moss, it's a shower of yellow cloth hitting the field. But Webster played it right, and was the equivalent of a closer nailing down the deciding save of the World Series. Touche, Mariano Rivera.
Eli's pass to David Tyree on the Giants' winning drive will go down in history as the greatest Super Bowl play ever. How can it not? You can have your helicopter runs and Montana hookups with John Taylor and Lynn Swann acrobatics. Nothing like Eli's pass to Tyree will ever happen again.
Look at the play frame-for-frame, and tell me it's not the most amazing play in NFL history. A slow-footed, pocket-passing QB looked like some freakish genetic combination of Randall Cunningham and Barry Sanders. He was sacked, purely and simply. He was down. It was over, and he spun out of the pocket and into daylight.
He then proceeded to throw a desperate, ill-advised passed to a covered receiver in the middle of the field. The ball should have been picked. Tyree should have been pile-driven into the ground the nanosecond the ball arrived. There is no way on this planet it should have been a catch. But Tyree pinned the ball against his hard, plastic, spherical helmet, and held on as he fell, inverted, to the ground -- with another set of hands grabbing for the ball, mind you.
This will never happen again. It can't possibly ever happen again. If it does, it will be like Halley's Comet and reoccur 76 years from now, when there is a franchise in Guam and they're healing torn ACLs with magnets.
The Patriots thought they had the game won when Brady tossed his TD pass to Moss with a little over two minutes to play. While Moss was celebrating with half the team in the end zone, Tedi Bruschi was hugging Junior Seau as if to say "We did it! You're going to get your ring!"
I never liked the way Seau let himself be the subject of a grand farewell retirement tour, then abruptly came out of retirement to try and piggyback on the Pats for a ring. So I can't say I'm terribly sorry to see him walk away without a title.
That TD celebration sequence was a microcosm of New England's we're-so-good-we-can-take-it-for-granted arrogance that seeps into the mindset of any team that has had the avalanche of success the Patriots had this year. Whether it was Belichick going for it on fourth-and-long when a field goal would have been sufficient, or the Pats celebrating a Super Bowl title two minutes before the clock runs out, there had to be an element of "Whatever we do, it will all work out in the end, because it always does."
And when it didn't, Belichick muscled his way past the officials who were trying to tell him that there was still two seconds left on the clock.
For a coach who led his team through a 2007 season that amounted to a scorched-earth campaign to spite the NFL over "spygate," seeing the final vindication of his coaching greatness slip through his fingers was just too much. So he hurriedly -- and I'm guessing tersely -- congratulated Tom Coughlin and disappeared into the bowels of the stadium.
As Belichick stormed off the field, it wasn't about the Patriots losing to the Giants. It was about Belichick losing the proof he needed to show the NFL uppity-ups that he could kick everybody's ass without the illegal advantage of clandestinely-recorded practice tape.
Of course, if Bill was doing it all along, there are probably 31 other NFL coaches who at least thought about it. Heck, Romeo Crennel had a front-row seat to 0018-and-1's spy activities when he was the Pats' D-coordinator. Not that anyone really knew what was happening. Belichick is the best coach at saying something without really saying anything since Casey Stengel.
...wubba wubba wubba...