For the first time since 2008, the professional football team I have followed since childhood, the team that has broken my heart more times than I can count, won a playoff game. Saturday night’s 45-10 victory over the Denver Broncos snapped the New England Patriots’ playoff draught, but the most interesting sports coverage on the weekend had to do with a game that was played on December 4.
The first meeting of the season between New York and Green Bay suggested that the Giants would give the defending champions a game in the divisional round on Sunday, but before kickoff everyone was still talking about the moment, more than a month ago, when Hakeem Nicks beat Packers’ defensive back Charles Woodson for a touchdown. Quarterback Eli Manning had the ball, second-and-goal on the four yard line. Woodson had perfect coverage; it really was. But when Manning lobbed his pass, Nicks reached out and grabbed the ball with one hand. There was absolutely nothing else Woodson could have done, and, in the moment after the play, he reached out his hand to congratulate his opponent.
I remember thinking, at the time, that the gesture was unusual, but I never imagined that it would elicit such comment. Players on both teams thought that it was inappropriate, that Woodson should have been upset about having been beaten; if he wanted to congratulate his opponent, he should have waited until after the game.
I have been struck by a realization of just how potent raw energy can be during sporting events. Clearly, as fans, we get caught up in the same emotion as the players feel, so why should I be surprised? In a recent documentary, for example, Bill Belichik, Patriots head coach, was shown chewing out his players for not flocking to a teammate to celebrate a good play. Could that frenzy be that important? I have always admired the pre-game demeanor of football players, dressed as suited assassins, filing off their bus and into the stadium. Is that steely, confident determination really counter-productive once they get on the field itself?
To my mind, Charles Woodson did not lose his focus during that December game. God knows that, between the television time outs and the instant replays, there are all kinds of interruptions. I had, and still have, no problem with a competitor stopping to acknowledge something unusual, even when it is done by a competitor.
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