Hey Victor Cruz, please do your salsa dance when you score your touchdown against the Redskins this Sunday. If you score two TDs, salsa twice. It brings me joy to watch you be creative and colorful and a little ostentatious. Eating salsa while watching you do the salsa has become the highlight of my Sundays.

Hey Eli Manning, keep doing what you've been doing and they'll start talking about you as a Hall of Fame quarterback. This would be an amazing turnaround considering that less than three years ago all of New York, which is quite a few people, wanted to run you out of town for inept quarterback play. But you proved everybody wrong. Two Super Bowl rings already, more than your immortal brother, Peyton, shows you belong among the elite quarterbacks of this generation and, in fact, all football generations. You are fast-becoming one of the all-time greats.

I was skeptical as so many were when you were drafted. But through hard work, persistence, and being classy and low-key-humble, in fact-you've won over the hearts of all New Yorkers. I'm not a New Yorker but rather from the second-rate U.S. metropolis, Washington, D.C. But I still appreciate greatness when I see it.

Hey Tom Coughlin, man have you re-invented your legacy in a few short years. You went from being run out of Gotham City like Eli to becoming, arguably, the greatest coach in New York Giants history. Granted you lack the persona, ego and swagger of the genius, Bill Parcells. But you're tough, maybe the hardest disciplinarian among all NFL coaches. Considering the plethora of maniac, control-freak NFL coaches, that's really saying something.

Your players used to dislike playing for you. Remember Tiki Barber? You didn't care much for him but neither did he care much for you. But that's just one guy, and a self-centered one. You're not about self-centered guys. You're about team guys like Osi Humanannoyance. Yes I know he holds out for more money habitually and disrupts your pre-season practice continuity. But it doesn't matter in the end. All that matters is that he's healthy in December when your Giants transmogrify into the league's hottest team and make a run to the Super Bowl title. I see that happening against this season, certainly am praying for it.

Even if you lose a bunch of games this season before December, such as this Sunday in the Meadowlands against a team you have owned for the past two decades, the ridiculous Redskins, it doesn't matter. September through November games have become an extended preseason for your Giants, part of the architectural blueprint for success and glory. I'm sure you've erased from your mind the last time your Giants got annihilated, which was against the Redskins last December on your home field, 23-10 in a game not as close as the close suggests. Sure Eli threw interceptions but he came through in the playoffs. Who cares about losing to a lowly franchise like the Skins earlier that season, 28-14, when you went on to win what really mattered, the Super Bowl? I can see how you found those two punishments slightly if not wholly humiliating because of how thoroughly your team got pummeled. But who cares? No one remembers that. Not even me.

Heading into this weekend's game in East Rutherford, N.J, just relax. It may even make sense to lay down and let the Skins win again. Why not sit out your entire defensive line, the heart of your team, to keep them healthy for the playoffs? Let Redskin quarterback Bobbie Griffin The Third (a.k.a. RG3) run wild like he did two days ago for 138 yards against the Vikings. Don't even try to tackle him. Just save your guys for December. Al Davis got it almost right but not completely. Football is not all about "just win, baby." It's about "just win in December and January, baby."

As I ponder Sunday, I think about all of my favorite New York Giants of yesteryear: Joe Morris, Phil McConkey, Jeremy Shockey, Tiki Barber, and  Lawrence Taylor. LT is a particularly admirable person. I know he got in some trouble with drugs and social deviance. But man could he really wreak havoc with an offense game plan. That's what really mattered in the end.

I remember with glee those times when Parcells would open the wind tunnel at Giants Stadium so the ball would swerve wide left and right when Redskin kickers attempted game-winning field goals. Yet most of all, I remember the great one, the most charismatic coach in the history of sports, Billy Parcells. You could make a case he was better than all the rest including Chuck Noll, Bill Walsh, Don Shula, Bill Belichik, and Tom Landry.

He may not have won as many Super Bowls as some. But what a personality, what charisma, what confidence. He was as irresistible as salsa on Sundays.



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