Four-front

During the hypnotizing hype (as the great Joe Posnanski calls it) of this ridiculous two-week hiatus between football games, I've passed some time attempting to temper my surging arrogance about a certain dynasty's immediate destiny.

I reminded myself that this is exactly how St. Louis Rams fans felt six seasons ago. I paid proper respect to the strengths of this admirable if mouthy Giants football team - the thunder 'n' lightning running duo of Brandon Jacobs and Ahmad Bradshaw, the fierce Strahan/Umenyiora-led pass rush that surely will test Tom Brady's re-booted ankle, the height advantage talented Plaxico Burress holds over the Patriots' shrimpy cornerbacks. I even wondered if my desperation to witness the completion of a flawless season is blurring the line between what I hope happens and what is likely to happen.

I considered, pondered, even worried a little . . . I tried, honestly I did. But in the end, my forced attempts at humble concern were as bleepin' hopeless as the underdog's chances tonight.

The New England Patriots are going to pulverize the New York Giants this evening. Think Steve Young vs. Stan Humphries. Fetal Tony Eason vs. the 46 Defense. The How 'Bout Them Cowboys vs. the hapless Bills. A mismatch for the ages.

It's been a redemptive run through the postseason for Eli Manning, Tom Coughlin, and the Giants, a team that has legitimately suffered more skeptics and doubters than the Patriots could ever imagine. (And admittedly, a lot of the Patriots' are imagined.) But all logic suggests their bandwagon will go careening off the road today, and football fans everywhere will be left rubbernecking at the wreckage.

We'll keep this simple. To stay with the Patriots today, the Giants will need every positive event from their 38-35 loss in Week 17 - four red-zone TD passes from Manning, a kick return for a TD, a stalled Patriots running game - to reoccur. And the will need to eliminate every mistake they made in the previous meeting while containing, if not entirely shutting down, a Patriots passing attack that is sure to be rejuvenated in the Arizona sun.

To stay with the Patriots, they are the ones who will have to be perfect. And the chances of that happening are roughly the same as the chances of Brady ditching Gisele to go back to Tara Reid.

This is how it's going to go, people. The Patriots will pull ahead early, Brady finding Randy Moss deep once or twice against the Giants' spotty defensive backfield, and suddenly Manning will find himself playing from behind against a Patriots defense that will undoubtedly reveal wrinkles and complexities he did not see in the previous meeting. For a quarterback who considered a disappointment if not an out-and-out bust six weeks ago, it's a recipe for embarrassment. When it's all over, Archie Manning will remember why Peyton was always his favorite.

Yes, today will bring the culmination and the coronation. Nineteen wins, zero losses, a legacy that will endure for all time. Do you really think a team led by Bill Belichick and Brady, a team populated by savvy veterans, a team that knows its way around a Super Bowl or four, will let football immortality slip from their grasp?

Not a chance, which in part explains why Belichick was in such an unusually jolly mood this week. He knows his team is ready for its closeup, and nothing - not Eagles fanboy Arlen Spector's curiously timed grandstanding, not Matt Walsh's vague insinuations, not even the look-at-me pleas for attention by the likes of Merril Hoge and Gregg Easterbrook - can bring them down. In fact, that's the irony that is somehow lost on their haters and skeptics. Their doubts feed the beast. I've never seen another professional sports team that so effectively converts sleights - both real and imagined - into fuel come game time.

Which is why, at roughly 10 p.m. this evening, we'll bear delightful witness to one final act of vengeance. The confetti will rain, the Patriots will reign . . . and Roger Goodell, a fake plastic smile creasing his face, will have to hand over the Lombardi Trophy to Bill Belichick.

If that isn't the perfect final scene to a perfect season, well, just you tell me what is.

* * *

As for today's Completely Random Hall of Famer:


A long overdue honor for 'ol No. 56, and a rather fine way to kick off the Patriots-centric weekend as well.

Little big man

Ten free minutes for me, 10 free Dana Jacobson bleep-faced rants for you . . .


1. Remember when Kevin Faulk couldn't nudge aside a decaying Terry Allen to become the Patriots' feature back? Remember a few years later when he lost his third-down role to temporary hero J.R. Redmond? Remember when you cringed every time he carried the ball because it seemed like he fumbled in every big situation? Remember when Kevin Faulk wasn't nearly as dependable, clutch, admired, smart, tough, respected, and downright essential as he his now, in his ninth NFL season? Talk about a player who has redeemed himself, not only on the field but in the eyes of the fans. He's the heir apparent to Troy Brown as the team's designated Beloved Overachiever, and it's to his endless credit that he has arrived at this point in his career after such a maddening start.

2. It kills me how the ESPN hairdos and other would-be contrarians, in their desperation to find a way the Giants can stop the Patriots, repeatedly cite the 1990 Bills and the 2001 Rams as two historically great offenses who were defeated in the Super Bowl. I mean, c'mon - shouldn't it be obvious, even to the multi-concussed likes of Merril Hoge, what the common denominator was in those two games?

3. Let's see: Mike Vrabel allegedly tried to leg whip Philip Rivers in the AFC title game, Rodney Harrison's list of dastardly transgressions is long and distinguished, and I'd be tempted to side with Richard Seymour against Nick Hardwick's claim of cheap play if only he hadn't been caught stomping on the Colts' Tarik Glenn last season. If the Pats aren't careful, they're going to get the reputation as a dirty team. Which, frankly, is fine by me.

4. Philip Rivers yaps way more than a quarterback of his limited talent and accomplishment should, but after watching him gut it out against the Pats on a messed-up knee while LaDainian Tomlinson passed the biggest game of his career by brooding in his Haz-Mat suit on the bench, I know who I'd respect more in that huddle from here on out.

5. A pleasant dilemma for Danny Ainge: Should he sign Damon Stoudamire once his buyout with the Grizzlies becomes official, or should he gamble and hope that the superior Sam Cassell - a good buddy of KG's and proven postseason performer - becomes available in a similar fashion a few weeks down the road? I think I vote for the latter, though the risk is that Stoudamire signs elsewhere, Cassell doesn't become available, and we're stuck watching the likes of Tony Allen pass, punt, and kick the ball upcourt in a playoff game when Rajon Rondo is on the bench.


6. I suppose the man Bill Parcells christened "Beach Ball" deserves credit for being honest about who he's pulling for this week. To put this delicately, DeOssie doesn't strike me as a guy who always put family before football, but he wouldn't be the first person to get his priorities straight as he grew older.

7. Damn. Talk about seeing a ghost. A few days ago, I watched that '86 Maryland/North Carolina game on ESPN Classic - you know the game I mean, for it's remembered as Bias's definitive performance - and I was reminded yet again how easily the memories of his death come rushing back. Yeah, I'll probably check out the movie. But I doubt I'll see anything that wasn't permanently burned into my mind when I was 16 years old and devastated.

8. The closer we get to spring training, the closer I get to officially becoming concerned that Terry Francona doesn't have the lucrative, long-term contract he deserves. Here's hoping this is something Theo's getting done under the cover of darkness, and it'll be announced when we're not expecting it.

9. Best wishes to Tom Coughlin with your extensive skin-graft surgery, and here's hoping you don't come out looking like the Cat Lady. Seriously, by the end of the NFC Championship Game, he looked like a cross between the Snow Miser and Fire Marshall Bill. Couldn't he have at least worn some ear muffs?

10. As for today's Completely Random Hockey Card:


I pay about as much attention to hockey as I do to "The View," but I'm fairly certain the Bruins' coach looks nothing like this nowadays.