Team Of Destiny?

You see how much I rip ESPN and the media in general, so you know I'm not a big fan of hyperbole and cliche.

But after Sunday's Super Bowl, I can't help but think of the New York Giants as one of those -- gulp -- teams of destiny.

Even after allowing 80 points in opening the season 0-2, even when trailing after three quarters of the third game, even with a befuddled-looking quarterback through much of the first 10 or 12 games of the season, you seldom heard about any finger pointing or interdepartmental friction among the New York Giants.

In this city, if there's a whiff of something similar to something that's synonymous with a word that might somehow resemble dissent, everybody knows about it. You have the controversy-seeking sports media to thank for that. It's not just your local Tasti D-Lite where you can find ice cream up here; scribes turn over garbage cans in back alleys looking for a scoop.

Teams of destiny are often surprises, and the Giants were one of them this year. The Yankees aren't often teams of destiny because every year they don't win a championship is considered a failure here. The Red Sox were one in 2004. North Carolina State and Villanova were in the 1980s. No matter how much bigger and better their next opponent seemed to be on paper, the game was still played and the team that maybe had more heart or focus won. Keeping things east coast, you might say the Rangers were a team of destiny when they won the Stanley Cup in 1994. And keeping things on ice, perhaps the biggest example of divine intervention in sports was Team USA in 1980.

I even think my hometown Cleveland Indians were a team of destiny in 1995. Though they didn't win the World Series, they reached that coveted final round for the first time in forever, giving still title-starved sports fans in that great city something to cheer about all summer long. When they weren't putting up double figures on the scoreboard, they were mounting ninth-inning comebacks. There really was some divine intervention on the lake that year.

Eli Manning certainly deserves to hoist that trophy all week long, but what often happens to hot goalies who lead their overachieving NHL teams to a deep postseason run will likely befall him and his loveable Giants. Reality will set in the following season, and suddenly that laser focus that earned them 11 straight road wins isn't nearly sharp enough to mount another championship season.

ESPN KUDOS: I watched the Ohio State-Michigan basketball game Tuesday night, and here's where ESPN's sports machine makes a difference: Its sideline photographer at Columbus' Value City Arena saw some geeky student flash an impromptu 8x11 piece of paper with "TERRELLE PRYOR, PLEASE COME TO OHIO STATE," a message to the highly coveted next Vince Young iteration, a high school star who's narrowed his choices to Ohio State and Michigan, a senior quarterback who might announce Wednesday where he'll play his college ball next fall. It's not the job of that photographer to know who Pryor is, but regardless of the position you're applying for, you'd better know your sports if you want a job at ESPN. He said something to a producer, who told announcers Brent Musberger and Steve Lavin they were going to show that sign, and the duo spent a minute or two talking about Pryor, adding to a stellar broadcast. That's one of the things for which I'll give ESPN credit.

Superbole

Enough with the Super Bowl hyperbole. Sunday's game was not the best game in NFL history, nor was it the biggest upset in all of sports.

But because of our short memories and closed-minded need to categorize everyone and everything, I heard such claims from the media today.

Now I'm not quite the historian for Super Bowls as I think I am with NCAA basketball tournaments the last 25 years or so, but off the top of my head, even the exciting finish might not have been the most thrilling in Super Bowl history. Right now I'm thinking about Joe Montana's late drive against the Bengals in 1989, and more recently, New England's Adam Vinatieri won Super Bowls with field goals, one a game-ender (2002) and the other with nine seconds left (2004).

And now that the season is over, here is my NFL offseason wish list:

+ Chris Berman and Stu Scott are on the next plane that crashes.
+ Emmitt Smith works on his English, starting with "Hand Hand Finger Thumb."
+ New York fans at work shut up about Brady, Belichick and 18-1. Just one day of it has made me nearly suicidal.
+ The Browns keep Derek Anderson, and if they have to deal somebody, make it unproven Brady Quinn, perhaps in exchange for a first-rounder on defense. As it stands now, Cleveland does not have a first-round pick.
+ ESPN gets over itself and the New York-Boston angle from yesterday's Super Bowl. Had the exact same game taken place between, say, Detroit and Houston, folks would not be dropping the Best-Super Bowl-Ever tag.
+ Fans and media alike realize that Tony Romo is merely a good quarterback, but not the next Brett Favre.
+ Favre comes back and takes the Packers to the Super Bowl, where he hoists the Lombardi Trophy and then retires the next day.

Digger Phelps Is Awful Again This Year

As you know, I enjoy college basketball. And in case you don't remember, I correctly picked the Final Four in last year's tournament. But no, I did not win the office pool.

And with a new season now upon us, I just watched the first 10 minutes of an early season basketball version of "GameDay" on ESPN. And of course, there was Digger Phelps -- the master of talking and simultaneously saying nothing -- reminding me once again why he's so bad at his job.

If you watch a lot of NCAA basketball, be prepared to hear these things often for the next five months:

+ Get it done, as in, "They can really get it done."
+ Why, as in, "They can really get it done. Why? They have the senior leadership and . . . "

Digger doesn't need to ask himself why if he's just going to keep talking and not take a breath. In the second example above, remove "why" and tell me if that changes anything Phelps is trying to say. But once Digger finds a little trick, he uses it more than Charlie Sheen would.

I'm So Over ESPN

ESPN is excited about its precious little "E:60," which debuted last week.

It's just the latest perfect example of how the sports leader has a huge man-crush on itself.

The show's intro doesn't have music playing underneath video of controversial sports figures or memorable highlights. Instead, it shows black-and-white video of ESPN's reporters who will be leading the program. The average-looking Rachel Nichols hails a cab in Manhattan. Jeremy Schaap comes out of a New York subway stop. Does Jeremy Schaap really take the train?

And then, sure enough, before the first story in this week's edition, part of the show is the actual pitch meeting where Nichols and a team of brainwashed "E:60" producers talk about the hard-hitting story they plan to deliver on ... the daughter of the Los Angeles Lakers owner. Nice lead.

It begins with some pictures-- no narration -- of Kobe Bryant slashing to the hoop and then some other Lakers highlights. Then, on Nichols' second word of the script, she violates a fairly basic preference of journalism: "For over two decades . . . . "

C.C. Sabathia throws the ball over the head of the Red Sox batter, for example. Use the preposition to describe a location. But don't use it as a time reference. Instead, say ESPN has annoyed me for more than 10 years.

East Coast Bias

I can't think of any better evidence of the east-coast bias in sports media than what I just saw a minute ago.

ESPN led its late "SportsCenter" with the Joe Torre story. Not only is it not the biggest story in sports today, but it's not even the biggest story in baseball.

Sure it's huge here in New York, but last time I checked, ESPN has viewers everywhere. The biggest story in sports at this hour is the Rutgers upset of visiting No. 2 South Florida tonight (which, of course, I predicted), but I can understand if it gets pushed to the second story because the game just ended and they're tying up some loose ends.

But the biggest story in baseball is the ALCS Game Five that as of this writing is still in progress. The Torre story has been in play for seven hours, and I think those who care are already in the know.

ESPN sucks.

Reason No. 436 To Hate ESPN

I feel sorry for Tony Romo, and it's because of the industry in which I work.

Pop conversation this week has experts now asking, "Is Tony Romo the next Brett Favre?"

I have two reactions to this question:

1) No.
B) Hell no.

He's not a bad quarterback. In fact, he's quite good and will no doubt have a nice career.

But the TV news industry is such that we spend our hours wondering and analyzing and speculating. It's no different in sports. ESPN has 24 hours to fill every single day until the end of time, so even the most preposterous arguments have to be given consideration.

And once Romo's career is sidetracked by an injury-prone reputation, a mediocre season or two or a failure to win in the postseason, he'll be run out of Dallas and the next argument will be whether Tony Romo underachieved.

He will have underachieved in the eyes of the experts, those who have such an erection over the thought of being the first to pose the comparison between Romo and Favre. Remember, one of ESPN's big themes is "Next." If I recall, that awful glossy adverzine they launched a decade ago had four up-and-coming pro athletes on its inaugural issue with "Next" as the headline. Is Kobe the next Michael? Is LeBron the next Kobe? Is O.J. the next LeBron? Who cares?

Want to know why Romo is no Brett Favre? Because when you think of Favre, you think of him starting nine zillion straight games since 1937 or whatever. You think of his renegade gunslinger reputation and his zest for the game. You think about him battling the Cowboys a couple of times in the playoffs before finally getting to the Super Bowl, and winning it. He got to another Super Bowl the following year and remained a postseason staple a few more years after that. You also think about that Monday night game in Oakland when he lit up the Raiders after his dad's death.

What do you think about when you hear Tony Romo's name? Oh, isn't he the guy who tried to date Jessica Simpson? Or is he the one who botched the snap on a last-minute field goal attempt that would have won a playoff game last season? He's both.

ESPN, please go fuck yourself now.

Kudos

As you know, PAE isn't very fond of ESPN, but the sports giant gets two large thumbs way up for two of its stories over the weekend.

Screw the "Who's Now?" and the Sunday Conversations with Tiger Woods. Has he ever said anything important? He makes Pete Sampras look like Dennis Rodman.

Low-access superstars are tired and with the exception of Gary Sheffield and Charles Barkley, they all pretty much sound like robots who have nothing interesting to offer.

But Rick Ankiel, the up-and-coming St. Louis Cardinals ace who forgot how to throw a strike a few years ago, has made a comeback as an outfielder. And Peter Gammons interviewed him for a story over the weekend and it was awesome.

The story aired just a few minutes after another story about Todd Crandell, a lengthy feature about a man who's gone from the darkest depths of addiction to founding Racing For Recovery, a group that helps addicts not only overcome their drug and alcohol problems, but also train for races to complete the circle of recovery. Neither of these stories was typical two- or three-minute TV. Each was at least eight minutes or so, and I'd watch them again if I could. This is the stuff ESPN should keep doing, not the flowery or self-serving shit we've come to expect over the last decade from what was once an enjoyable station to watch.