Friday, December 5, 2014

The Winter of My Discontent

During my hiatus writing for, I’ve noticed that there’s been a severe lack of winning in New York sports.   OK – now that I’ve qualified for “Understatement of the
Year” – let me clarify:  the Giants have gone from “bad” to “worse” to “god they suck!”; the Knicks (always my favorite punching bag) have, believe it or not, underachieved; the Yankees have gone two years without making the post-season and fears are that we’re “back to the future” of the early-1990s; and the Rangers, my beloved Eastern Conference Champions, are treading water (which considering they play on ice, is a pretty neat deal).

While it’s too early (and way too easy) to put a bullet in the Knicks season, and the Yanks are always a candidate to instantly rebuild, it’s the right time to eulogize the Giants.   When this season started at 3-2 after five weeks, there was guarded optimism, and a daunting six game gauntlet facing them.  Seven weeks later, coming off a loss to (ugh) Jacksonville, they’re still looking for win number four.   The locker room has lost more people than 14th century Europe, with 20 players on injured reserve (including the retirements of G Chris Snee and RB David Wilson).   Those who can play, have either suffered from the rebuilt offense and makeshift offensive line; inept and perplexing defensive strategy; and/or acute fumblitis, or as I like to call it, a case of the Mannings. 

In a season that started with little optimism and ended in disaster, outstanding questions remain:  
  • Can a team that has had three General Managers in 38 years fire one (Jerry Reese) that has two Super Bowl wins in his closet? 
  • Did a Hall of Fame Coach suddenly forget how to game plan? 
  • How many times can you fire a defensive coordinator?  And when you do, who will replace him?
For my semi-coherent rantings on the Yankees, you’ll find my articles on   For the Knicks, I’ll leave that to Guest Writer Craig Hoberman (I like to share my suffering).  As for the Rangers, I sit and hold my breath, hoping that a Stanley Cup will cure all my problems.

And now, it’s time for my medication . . .

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