Really, people. Eli Manning is just not that good.
Would I come off sounding bitter if I devoted an entire column to this issue? My instincts say yes. I mean, the man put me through a solid month of depression in February, breaking my heart -- nay, dismantling my entire circulatory system -- with one pass to David Tyree. He went overnight from unappreciated little brother to Super Bowl hero. He's now commanding the NFL's best offense. His team is 8-1 while mine is without its starting quarterback and in need of a soft schedule to muster 6-3.
Also, it might not even be true anymore. League's best offense: 261 points in nine games! The guy under center's got to be doing something right, right? Right.
Ah, screw it. I haven't said anything bad about New York in ages. It's no fun to bash the Yankees when they're mediocre, anyway. I am dying to bait you people again.
(That's right, I said "you people." You, citizens of the tri-state area, but excluding that one little pocket of northern Connecticut where it's cool to like New England teams -- and by the way, I've always wondered exactly how that area was determined. Is there some kind of Pats/Giants border, almost like a football Mason-Dixon Line?)
I think I was making a point: Eli. Not that good. Career passer rating: 75.4. Twenty-fifth in the NFL among active quarterbacks; 26th is Patrick Ramsey, that guy who led the Redskins to three years of awfulness and has since played eight games in four years. Last start was in 2005.
Eli throws interceptions -- a lot. Last year he led the league with 20. But even when he's not throwing an interception, he's usually afraid that he will, and playing scared under center leads to one of two things.
One, he holds onto the ball for forever, collapsing into the pocket and praying not to get sacked (and inevitably he gets sacked anyway, hence the low rushing yard totals every single year -- c'mon Eli, even your ever-immobile big brother ran for 100 yards in three straight seasons). Or two, he throws for about six yards and hopes his receiver can scamper for a few more and make him look good. Peyton's got a cannon; Eli, a water pistol.
All of this is my unabashedly biased, angry, frustrated, bitter opinion. Again, his team is 8-1 and mine's 6-3.
So what if something's actually changed? What if the noodle-armed little pipsqueak actually learned to be a great quarterback? Is that possible?
I suppose it is. This is, after all, the same Eli Manning who was picked first overall in the 2004 draft before being traded to the Giants for Philip Rivers, who I happen to really like. Also at the top of that class: Ben Roethlisberger, Larry Fitzgerald and the late Sean Taylor. So perhaps this is just the real Eli, the guy who was touted out of college to be The Next Big Thing, living up to his true potential. Given his (ancient) history and his pedigree, that idea wouldn't be entirely insane.
Or, for a counterargument, let's offer the three words that geeks like me love to espouse: Small Sample Size. A Super Bowl MVP award is great. But it's one game. A title is impressive, but it just takes four wins. Even an 8-1 start, while pretty dazzling at the moment, can fade away. Football's just too fickle a game and the season is just too short. A couple of lucky breaks is all it takes to separate the serviceable from the great.
But yeah, I have a sneaking suspicion that Eli is moving into that latter category. Maybe it was only a matter of time. As a grudge-holding fan who's still moping about the events of Feb. 3, I really hope I'm wrong.
It's either that, or I go back to ridiculing the Yankees again. And Lord knows I'm bored with that.
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Evans Clinchy is a senior majoring in English. He can be reached at Evans.Clinchy@tufts.edu.
