Just Sayin Week 3: New York Giants vs. Tennessee Titans

By Rachel Swett - InReeseWeTrust.com 9/28/10

I don’t think anyone will argue that it’s an emotional endeavor to be a true Giant fan.  This season especially, while only 3 games old, has been a roller coaster.  The highs include steady drives into the red zone, major completions to Smith and Manningham on a regular basis, and some breakthroughs by Bradshaw that leave us with a spilled beer and some chips in our laps after leaping out of our seats in excitement.  But then, out of nowhere, they revert to the Giants of yore (yore being anytime between 1995 and 2007) and commit bone-headed leadership decisions in the red zone, absolutely inexcusable penalties (THREE personal fouls on the OFFENSIVE LINE!?  WHAT!?) and turnovers turnovers turnovers.

The only explanation is that these men are playing like emotional little girls.  But the question remains, why?  It’s baffling.  Just baffling.  And the commentators at FOX agree.  During Sunday’s broadcast they brought to our attention that in the 4^th quarter this week, the Giants had accomplished 324 passing yards, 409 yards of total offense, and had only scored 10 points.  Seriously, steam came out of my ears because this simply DOES NOT COMPUTE.  But, oh faithful readers, have no fear.  I believe I have solved the mystery. 

History has proven that as soon as we cut the riff raff and eliminate any dissention-in-the-ranks, success is sure to follow.  Exhibit A: Bye-Bye loud mouth Shockey, HELLO Super Bowl.  Exhibit B: Bye-Bye Plaxico “Quick Draw” Burress, HELLO 5-0 start the following season.  As soon as the players and coaching staff untwist their panties and play the game the Giant way, good things happen.  But, when personalities are at odds and there is whining going on, the strength and consistency in our performance starts to crumble.

If there’s a member on the field acting like he’s on the rag, and one or two mistakes are committed or we fall victim to a bad call or two, the entire franchise falls apart at the seams.  This season the perfect microcosm of this historical Giants struggle is located in the backfield.  The key emotional breakdown this year has emerged in Brandon Jacobs’ poorly disguised hissy fit.  Mr. “Trade me Trade me, oh wait I take it back” clearly has no idea that you actually have to PLAY like a starter to BE a starter.  Try EARNING some of that $25 million before you start whining like my 3 year old sister with a dukie in her diaper. 

I seriously couldn’t figure out why he was so hormonal until I dug deeper into the stats.  Last season Jacobs started his little twinkle toes game which perplexed us all.  This little dance of his was my initial focus.  However, while analyzing the stats, an interesting trend emerged.  The games where Jacobs actually did better than Ahmad Bradshaw, the team lost, and in all but one of the games where Ahmad Bradshaw out rushed Jacobs, the Giants claimed victory.  The success of the team clearly had more to do with Bradshaw, whether it was intentional or just the way the play book unfolded.  As a result Jacobs’ self-destructive lack of discipline (and/or ability to keep his mouth shut) has obviously infiltrated the current season, as well as the entire locker room.  Furthermore, interestingly enough, the dynamic between him and Bradshaw has evolved to resemble something I saw in a movie once…

The 6’4” 260lb Brandon “Dr. Evil” Jacobs is underwhelming us big time.  He clearly has delusions of grandeur as he perceives himself to be better than his 5’9” 198lb side-kick Ahmad Bradshaw, and yet seems to ignore the fact that Bradshaw has twice the production this season.  If you asked him, Jacobs would tell you he deserves the starting spot and “ONE…HUNDRED….BIIIIIILLLLION DOLLARS.”  Dude, wake up and smell the “Liquid Hot Magma” you’re dangling over.  Your “Mini-me” Bradshaw comes in right after you dance your way back to the line of scrimmage and fights for a 15 yard gain.  Occasionally he’ll even use his own evil plot and create a 2 or 3 yard gain out of what surely would have been a loss if his lesser half had been carrying the ball. 

But that’s the thing: I SWEAR Mini-me’s plot is always evil.  So far Bradshaw blinds us with his huge adorable smile while rushing for his own TD, then punches us in the groin with a fumble on first and goal or REALLY a poorly timed false start and spoils what would have been somebody ELSE’S TD.  You’re on your couch watching him screaming like Austin Powers; “Yes, YES, YYYESSS NO! NO!”  Sometimes Bradshaw makes me want to shoot him into space in a rocket shaped like “Privates,” but a lot of the time his pocket-size and strong will are extremely useful.  It’s clear that Giants nation is just waiting for one of them to give us something to root for. 

Bradshaw, get your head out of Dr. Evil’s sphincter and play your own game.  While “a shorn scrotum is quite breathtaking,” I’m sure your eyes will be more useful on ONE BALL.  THE ONE MADE OF PIGSKIN.  And Jacobs, of course I’d be pissed if my mini-me beat me out for the starting spot, but I’d be angry at MYSELF for letting someone half my size school me on the stat sheet.  I wouldn’t whine like a child and throw my organization under the bus.  History has proven that the Giants may stand for it for a little while, but in the end, dead weight is better off released.  I think it’s Brandon’s turn on the “Willie” rocket.

The solution to this season, believe it or not, is to banish Dr. Evil Jacobs back to the underground lair from whence he came.  History says it’ll work like a charm and lord knows a repeat of last year’s 8-8 result is NOT on Jerry Reese’s OR Tom Coughlin’s agenda.  And frankly I’m getting cranky just watching this PMSy song and dance and a winning season would be Groovy, Baby.    Just Sayin.’