Giants Talk

Sleep is a rare commodity for a head coach in the National Football League, particularly for a coach in the depths of a three-game losing streak. So it is for the head coach seated at his large but orderly desk, surrounded by neat piles of looseleaf binders and disc cases, with three monitors frozen on different frame grabs showing the breakdowns of his team. It is somewhere between late at night and early in the morning, and the comfort of a bed is still some hours away.

The coach is not a man given to introspection. But at moments like these, he will occasionally lean back, close his eyes, and allow his mind to wander for just a moment. Pushing aside the season slipping through his aging but still strong fingers, he might consider the sweetness of summers in upstate New York, the pure joy of roaming the same backfield with Larry Csonka and Floyd Little, or quieter times spent with his grandchildren. Such moments, however brief, pass for rest in the throes of a season.

Somewhere within this interlude, a noise startles the coach. He opens his eyes to see the old man standing in front of his desk. With his usual, impeccable sense of decorum, the old man had gently cleared his throat to get the coach’s attention.

“Tom, may I have a word with you?”

“W-w-w-w?” The coach stammers, his face set in that perplexed look familiar to the legions of fans who follow his team each week.

“It’s alright. I didn’t mean to startle you. I know it’s late, but I thought it best if we could talk for a moment without any interruptions.”

The old man is dressed for a workout. Heather gray sweats, white socks, coaches’ shoes, a watch cap with a discreet “NY” logo on the cuff. His hands are spinning a football, the words “THE DUKE” stamped on its side.

“So, Tommy, what are we cooking up Sunday?”

The coach hesitates a moment. “Well, sir, the Chargers are an excellent team, and a tough opponent. We’re going to get back to playing Giants football, and if we do, I like our chances.”

The old man stops spinning the ball. His gaze narrows and locks on the coach. “Enough of that. I’ve seen plenty of ‘Giants football,’ good and bad. Heaven knows I haven’t been around for a while, and it’s been ages since I was checking out the horseflesh. But I’ve been keeping an eye on things.

“Tommy, you have to get these fellows ready to play the game!” The ball shoots high in the air in a perfect sprial, then settles down gently into the old man’s hands. “You can talk all you want about Giants football, but the boys haven’t been ready. That Payton made us look silly. Ernie was right about him – bright young man – but Fassel was scared of him.

“Then the Cardinals game. October 25 is a tricky day for me as it is. We used to beat the Cardinals with one hand tied behind our backs. The effort was not there, Tommy. It wasn’t.”

“And the Eagles. Tommy, that was an embarrassment, plain and simple. Plain and simple.

“So, that’s why I ask. What are we doing Sunday?”

The coach stares back at the old man, his face glum, another look familiar to fans of his team. He could go into the game plan, the defensive packages, the depth chart, but he knows the old man isn’t here for that.

Pointing the nose of the ball at the coach’s chest, the old man starts in again. “You have to get those boys ready to play the game! Everybody is talking about communications and responsibilities. When did Giants football become a management training course? Where’s the intensity, Tom? Where’s the fire?

“You have a lot of fine young men on this team. Justin Tuck could be one the greatest Giants. Eli – he looks a little goofy, I know, but he has the heart of a lion. I was all for it when you and Ernie brought him in here. I was all for it when Ernie brought you back too. You can do it, Tom!” The old man shakes the ball at the coach for emphasis.

“Get those boys ready to play Sunday, Tom. I’m not going to tell you how to do your job. And it’s not about Xs and Os. Do what you have to do so those fellows are flying around that field. Make sure they’re aggressive. Get the fans into the game. Get the place loud. Make sure our team plays hard and tough. That’s Giants football, Tommy. You know that.”

“Yessir, I certainly do.”

“Make sure they’re ready to play Sunday. Our fans are the best in the world. They deserve a great effort from our team. Are you reading me?”

“Loud and clear, sir.”

“Good.” The old man’s voice goes up a couple of notches. “Now let’s go get ‘em!”

The coach blinks, and like that the old man is gone. The exhaustion the coach has been laboring under is also gone, replaced by a calm, focused intensity. It is always a welcome surprise when the old man pays him a visit.