There's an old saying that goes, "The cream always rises to the top." The theory being that over time, through agitation and tribulation, the best will set itself apart, be distilled by adversity, and ascend above all others. That although counted out or overlooked, in the end greatness will emerge and prevail. Picture the exact opposite and you have the 2007-08 Giants.
Whether through smoke and mirrors or the evil machinations of some meddlesome deity, the New York Giants have somehow stumbled their way into the Super Bowl. Don't ask me how or why: that a team so rarely tested in the regular season and that failed to beat even the most remotely competitive opponent, that came up short against each and every winning team it faced, and then barely survived battles against the league's weakest sisters, is now playing for a championship.
This blog is named "Sports Crank", and let me tell you, the crank is turned up 100% today. Not only has my otherwise unremarkable Monday morning been ruined, but for the next two weeks I'm going to have to shield myself from the unrelenting, unavoidable, mind-numbing hype machine that is the run up to the Super Bowl for a New York team. (Okay, for a Giants team, since the Jets haven't been to a Super Bowl since before it was the Super Bowl.) It's enough to make you want to move out of state. Or at the very least, curl up into a ball and hibernate until President's Day.
In the interest of full disclosure, let me state that I hate those f***ing bastards in blue. The asshole coach. The soulless rube QB. The miscreant tight end. The defensive line, the running backs, the wide receivers, the linebackers, the trainers, the locker room attendants, the announcers, those ugly uniforms and especially those obnoxious, delusional, fairyland-dwelling fans who kept thinking this team was a contender in spite of all the obvious reasons to believe otherwise.
I'm not going to go into why the Cowboys, a superior team, played like some Juco squad all afternoon (and still should have won the game), or how the Packers managed to squander not only a devastating home field advantage but any good will Brett Favre had earned in his latest farewell tour. (If I may digress: Brett, hang it up. You'll never have a better situation than you had on Sunday yet you played like it was 2006 again when everyone was begging for you to retire. It's that time again.) But seriously, who was calling those plays yesterday? Did anyone see Rich Kotite on the Green Bay sidelines? Is this all some awful conspiracy to cause me misery?
Were it not for the fact that my beloved Patriots are playing, too, I'd simply avoid the Super Bowl altogether. Perhaps if nothing else, the Giants' immortalization at the losing end of NFL history will ultimately ease the pain. Then again, nothing about this post-season has made sense yet. Remind me not to hold my breath.