A VIEW OF SUPER BOWL XLII FROM SYREN SEA

I called back home from Syren Sea to New York before the game. Like always, my life was hemmed in from every direction and I wouldn't be able to relax-- not that I could relax with my hometown team playing. I had a dog in this fight and I was bound to be on edge. Moreover, its opponent hailed from that city which is the darling of the biased American sports media: Boston. No city is as overrepresented by underwhelming sports scribes as that myopic hamlet on a bay. You knew the Giants wouldn't catch a break from any of the talking heads.

I could only picture the blatherers who work for the Four-lettered Beast of the Sports Apocalypse (also known as ESPN) frothing at the mouth over their Beantown heroes. [And if you wanna give me any malarkey about a New York bias in the sports media, all I have to say to you is hope on over to www.yahoo.com or www.espn.com and open your eyes. If there's a bias for the City That Never Sleeps, it's a bias against it, pal.]

I knew Cristo had come watch the game with me. I heard his spirit whisper in my ear, "Papa, I'm already here." I smiled and felt all would be well on this night.

2007 Had been an awful year for me. I had known more pain than I ever thought I could endure. I had needed redemption. I had needed a restoration a faith. For me, sports, New York sports, has always been the great salve for my heart and soul in these matters. Say what you will, think what you will. Sports achievement is not about dominion for me, it's about absolution.

The game day began for me as all important championship sports game days begin for me-- talking with my family. My family is my heart and such moments are special and spiritual for me and sharing them with them is one of the joys of my life. I called my four siblings first (in birth order, always, as I am the youngest), brother, sister, brother, sister. Then I called my parents.

Then I pray. A lot. I'm surprised my rosary beads haven't been worn to nubs.

The New York Giants were underdogs. The Patriots came in undefeated, 18-0. The Giants were being written off, dismissed, pushed to the side on the Patriots' way to sports history. The Pats had already beaten the Giants in the last game of the season. That and their perfect record were enough for the journalistic magi of the sports world to practically say the game should just have been handed over to Boston, er, New England. I had a feeling the Giants could pull something off, that things would go well, but I was still nervous, worried. When it comes to sports, I never take anything for granted. I just wait, hope and watch.

I figured for the Giants to win, the game would come down to how many three-and-outs they could get from the Pats. The idea being that the Pats offense was so strong, the Giants would have to hold them without a first down at least one series each quarter to have a chance to stop an offense that was the highest scoring in NFL history. I didn't think the Giants could stop their offense cold since they'd already dropped 38 points on them the last time they played. I did think the D could hold them in the 20s, and if they did that they'd have a chance. To do all of the above, though, the Giants would need pressure on Brady and they'd have to hope to get that pressure from their four-man rush. Even though the defensive coordinator liked to throw blitz packages, I just figured that Brady would be too adept at reading them and find a mismatch with his receivers. No, the D-line would have to do the job.

On the offensive side of the ball, the Giants would need a perfect game from Eli Manning.

Manning had been spectacular the last few games and I had hope. Throughout his first few years with the Giants, Eli had been, charitably, a disappointment. But something had happened on the road to Damascus or the Meadowlands the last game of the season. He'd found the light and was suddenly playing like Phil Simms had quantum leaped into his body.

We'd need the offense to be safe, not spectacular, and efficient. We couldn't really afford any turnovers. In the red zone, we'd need to convert TD's, not field goals. I didn't expect us to get many chances against the Pats D, so when we had them, we'd have to convert.

I avoided watching all the pre-game junk. The Super Bowl has become silly to me over the past few years. It's too much spectacle and not enough sport. I waited for the game to start before I turned the TV on.

And I don't give a crap about the commercials.

The first quarter started with a titanic drive by the Giants. They ate up most of the clock, keeping the Pats offense off the field. Though the only got a field goal out of it (like I worried about above), I was happy about how they looked and the time they used.

The Pats answered back with a TD, but for some reason I wasn't worried. The Giants looked good-- and, more importantly, they looked confident.

The second quarter both teams held serve. Most important for me was the fact that the Giants D was looking nasty. They were hammering the heart out of Brady, knocking him around like a Boston piñata. This was the kind of pressure they had to have and were getting. And they were getting a lot of it from the D line. The Pats offensive lineman were playing toreador to New York bulls and Brady was looking like a big red cape.

We went into half-time down 7-3. Not bad.

Don't ask me about the half-time show. I didn't watch. I like Tom Petty, but I had a bit more on my mind this year. Last year, Prince was great. I watched because it was just a game to me then. This year it was personal.

The second half started and I came back. Things were going okay, till Belichick (I won't say anything about that morose freak right now because it's not worth the words) challenged a non-call on a punt after the Giants had stopped the Pats on three-and-out. Three-and-outs were so important to me, that I worried this could be a big game-changer. But the Giants held them even after the Pats won the challenge, which was even bigger.

Then the fourth quarter came.

The first three quarters were a good, slow defensive struggle. The last quarter was amazing clutch football. The Giants drew first blood. Manning flipped a pass to Boss for 45 yards, then gave the Giants the lead 10-7 a few plays later on a seeing-eye shot to David Tyree-- a combination that would prove historic in the fourth quarter. Immediately, I got a call from home. Everybody was happy, but I don't like to cheer or celebrate until I know it's over. I don't ever like to tempt the sports gods. Besides, I knew Brady had another drive in him.

And he did. Brady hit Moss with just under three minutes left to give the Pats the lead, 14-10. I was oddly calm. Maybe it was because I had expected that shot and maybe it was because that shot came with more than enough time for the Giants to march back and leave little room for another Pats volley. I had this feeling New England had left too much time on the clock and that the stars had aligned New York's way this night.

Manning was heroic. He led an amazing drive as time ran down. He was calm and collected and moved the ball well. Then and Tyree made a two-part play for the ages.

On third and five with the ball on the his own 44, Manning worked out of the shotgun. The New England rush was fierce and frantic. It looked like Manning was being grabbed by 40 guys. His jersey was getting whipped like it was in a washer.

I held my breath and hoped he'd wouldn't be called in the grasp. Then, suddenly, somehow, Manning channeled his inner Chris Angel and pulled out a little street magic. He worked his way out of a New England straightjacket and launched a prayer of a pass downfield.

How he pulled it off, I'll never know, but part-one of "The Play" was complete.

Now for part two. David Tyree, who had been in cold storage for most of the season, was in coverage down the middle of the field. Tyree leaped into the air above the defenders, grabbed the ball and held it against his helmet, at one point, with one hand, while he fell.

Careening down to the ground, he held the pigskin like it was his only child and managed to reel in a 33-yard catch. New York now had the ball at the New England 24.

"The Play" was complete.

At that point, there was no question it was the Giants' night.

Then with 35 seconds left, Manning hit Plaxico Burress (the man who guaranteed a Super Bowl victory for the Giants) with a beautiful looping 25-yard touchdown pass into the corner of the end zone. 17-14 Giants.

Burress had held up his end of the guarantee. Now the Giants D had to make sure it would be made good.

And they did.

The Pats started on their own 26 with 29 seconds left. Brady would not be able to return serve and save the day. He started off with an incomplete pass on his first play. On the next, the Giants defensive lineman Jay Alford hammered a hole in his chest, sacking him for a ten yard loss. There were only ten seconds left now. One last chance. Brady let fly a long pass to Moss which fell harmlessly incomplete.

It was over. The Giants had won.

I screamed into the night. "Cristo!" I yelled. I heard his laughter. This one was enjoyed by a whole city-- and probably a nation-- but I reveled in it for myself, my family and Cristo. 2008 had begun with an answer to my prayers and for my heart. A dragon and its hoards had been improbably slain. Faith was alive.