Monday marked the official confirmation of what we’ve suspected for some time: Tom Coughlin resigned as head coach of the New York Football Giants, ending one of the most successful periods that the storied franchise has known.
The last few years have undoubtedly been lean one for the Giants, particularly on the defensive side – a constant source of frustration for Big Blue fans, including myself – and Coughlin’s resignation, coming before he was likely fired from the job, is the end result of a lean trot. The NFL is very much a ‘what have you done for me lately?’ league, and the sad fact is that Coughlin, other than invent new and torturous ways to lose football games, hasn’t done much in the last few seasons.
Recent exploits, or lack thereof, shouldn’t take away from the overall legacy that Coughlin leaves. Obviously, the twin Super Bowl triumphs of 2008 (after the 2007 season) and 2012 (after the 2011 season) are the high point of Coughlin’s tenure in New York, and will long be remembered as one of the bright spots in Giants franchise history.
The playoff run of 2007-08 was a thing of beauty. I was fortunate enough to be in America for it’s entirety. The first-up Wild Card weekend win over Jeff Garcia and the Tampa Bay Buccaneers wasn't too unexpected, despite it coming on the road. After that, though, the Giants weren’t given much chance of progressing any further than that.
Someone forgot to tell Coughlin’s men they weren’t supposed to win, and they went on an incredible win, beginning with a nail-biting win over Dallas in Cowboys Stadium, during which I’d never paced so much in my life, back and forth across my friend’s garage-turned-recording studio.
The Dallas win meant a monumentally large NFC Championship Game against Brett Favre’s favoured Green Bay at Lambeau Field in the middle of the frigid Wisconsin weather, where Plaxico Burress shredded elite cornerback Al Harris time and time again. The Giants forced overtime, and in the extra frame, Lawrence Tynes kicked the Giants to a Super Bowl. If only I could’ve paced back and forth in that game, I would’ve racked up miles’ worth. Instead, I was at a bar in Las Vegas – fittingly the New York-New York Hotel and Casino – nervously imbibing drinks poured by one of the funniest bartenders I’ve ever met.
Super Bowl XLII bound, the Giants, again, weren’t given a chance. Not against the heretofore undefeated New England Patriots, every man and his dog’s pick to win the game comfortably, and seal an unblemished season with a Lombardi Trophy. Tom Brady and Bill Belichick were supposed to waltz into the history books that night.
Instead, it was the Giants who doggedly fought their way into the pages of NFL history in Glendale, Arizona. Fittingly, my schedule had me in New York City the week leading up to the Super Bowl, and on game day. That Sunday was a miserably wet one in New York City, and I elected to watch proceedings in my hotel room, specifically so I could pace to my heart’s content.
What a heart-stopper, it turned out to me. David Tyree’s catch seemed unbelievable, so thank God for the myriad replays on the FOX broadcast – if only Joe Buck could have sounded a little more excited; he called the play like it was a one-yard reception by a rarely-used fullback – as I tried to digest exactly how Tyree had managed to clasp the ball to his helmet like he did.
Hell, Tyree didn’t have any business making a catch. Not with the Patriots defenders seemingly about to swamp Eli Manning for a huge loss. Somehow, someway, Eli, showing off agility that we haven’t really seen before or since, to get the throw away. Tyree’s catch was something else. Just incredible! As were the post-game celebrations, all over the five boroughs. Even Jets fans were happy to see the Pats lose.
That last defensive stand after someone in the Patriots coverage forgot to cover Plaxico Burress, allowing Plax to score the go-ahead touchdown, was hard to watch. Kind of like seeing a car accident: you don’t want to look, really, but you can’t look away. I could barely breathe during that last set of downs, and afterward, as Coach Coughlin and Eli hoisted the Lombardi Trophy aloft, I could scarcely believe it.
The Giants Super Bowl triumph four years later had similar aspects to the astounding run to Glendale. I was lucky enough to be in America again to see most of it unfolded, right up to the overtime NFC Championship Game win, this time against San Francisco, also on the road, and the idea of going home to Australia killed me. I practically had to be dragged onto the plane against my will.
At least I could pace around my own lounge room in Sydney as the Giants faced off against a revenge-minded Patriots squad, who were warm-to-hot favourites once more. Like four years earlier, the game went down to the wire, and another memorable triumph was helped along by another freakish reception, this time courtesy of Mario Manningham down the sidelines.
What would a Giants-Patriots Super Bowl be without a last-gasp defensive stand? I thought my team was going to lose. I thought they’d scored the go-ahead touchdown far too quickly, and had left Brady too much time on the clock. Thankfully, that wasn't the case, and Eli, improbably, suddenly had more Super Bowl rings than big brother Peyton.
Two memorable Super Bowl wins separated by four years, and, to this day, Patriot fans get nervous when they play the Giants. The two are incapable of not playing a close game. I daresay there’ll be a few Patriots players, administrators and fans breathing a sigh of relief upon hearing of Coughlin’s retirement.
Me? I’m sad. Coughlin helped deliver two of the best sporting moments of my life, and, despite hating not seeing the Giants have any recent postseason success, I’ll really miss seeing his irascible face on the sidelines next year, and beyond.
Thanks for the memories, Coach Coughlin. It was a fun ride.
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