BELIEVE it or not, there once was a time when football was always played the way the Giants and Ravens will play it next Sunday.
And, even harder to believe, we liked it. It was good, tense, exciting, hard-nosed football.
It bore little resemblance to the “Last Team With the Ball Wins” game we see routinely nowadays.
The game was designed as a ground war over 100 yards of turf, fought 10 yards at a time.
When football was football, those yards were supposed to be tough to come by. Points? Even tougher.
So now, for the first time in years, the NFL blunders into a Super Bowl matching two teams who play the game the old fashioned way, and everyone is all atwitter.
The Baltimore Ravens and the New York Giants, two top-of-the-line defenses, two middle-of-the-road offenses. No Favres or Elways on either side of the field. No Edgerrin James or Randy Moss (thank heavens). No Keyshawns (ditto).
Instead, we get Trent Dilfer, Kerry Collins, Ike Hilliard and a bunch of guys named Lewis.
How, oh how will we ever deal with having to watch two teams that are all stop, no go?
The answer is, the same way you eat your hot dog.
With relish.
This is the kind of game, if it weren’t being played in Tampa under the NFL’s misguided Warm Weather Super Bowl Rule, where you would expect the players to get muddied and bloodied, the uniform numbers barely distinguishable under the layers of grime on the jerseys.
The kind of game where the quarterback should stagger off the field carrying a divot in his facemask at least every other series.
The kind of game we used to see all the time, but rarely do anymore.
And never, oh never, on Super Bowl Sunday, America’s day at the gridiron.
Truth is, it is tough to find a matchup as good and pure as this one in any sport these days.
That they are so hard to find in the NFL is most disgraceful.
But then, why should football be different from any other sport, pro or amateur?
The 21st century sports fan, it seems, is hooked on the sugar high of the cheap home run, the 98-yard touchdown pass, the monster jam at the end of the fast break.
Too many of us would rather see a high school kid drop a buck on some poor overmatched humpties than watch a tight, well-played game in which neither team scores 50.
If you fit the profile, well, then maybe this year’s Super Bowl isn’t for you.
Because this year, the Super Bowl will feature something novel.
Both teams will play defense. For the whole 60 minutes, plus commercials.
Wait, it gets worse. A linebacker or a cornerback or – worst of all – a defensive end (!) might be named MVP.
Can you deal?
If not, find something else to do Sunday night. Play video games. That’s probably more your speed, anyway.
After years of Football for Dummies, Ravens-Giants is going to be Pigskin for the Connoisseur.
The fan who can appreciate the toughness and discipline and hard work and, yes, restraint that it takes to play good defense.
And the team with the better defense on Super Bowl Sunday will win the game.
I know, that sounds obvious, because one of the first lessons we learned in high school is that quarterbacks may date cheerleaders, but defense wins championships.
But what makes this matchup so intriguing is that on defense, these two teams are a statistical tossup.
For all the talk about the Ravens’ defense, ranked first overall in the NFL, the Giants are right there with them.
Baltimore allowed an average of 198 yards per game and 10.3 points; New York, 229 yards per game and 15.4. The Ravens intercepted 23 passes, the Giants 20. Baltimore had 35 sacks, New York 44.
Clearly, each is quite capable of shutting down the other’s offense.
Which is the way it should be.
NFL Football is not supposed to be Sunday morning softball, or two-hand touch, or the slam-dunk fest that passes for professional basketball these days.
Time was when a 16-13 game wasn’t a ratings killer or a channel-clicker.
Neither the Giants nor the Ravens may score many points, but every point they do score will mean something. And for once, any running back or receiver who reaches the end zone will have a reason to celebrate.
So what if they don’t break the over (33 points)?
Despite the name and location change of one of them, these are two of the NFL’s oldest franchises, both with a consistency of ownership and both inextricably wedded, it seems, to a style of football that isn’t played much anymore.
The Giants, 76 years old, have always been built around defense. The offense was just around to give Huff and Robustelli and Spider Lockhart and LT an occasional rest.
And the Ravens, five years young but with the blood of the old Cleveland Browns of Paul Brown, Jim Brown, Otto Graham and the Dawg Pound coursing through their veins, play the same way.
Neither is likely to light up anyone’s scoreboard, but both of them promise to ring somebody’s bell.
That may not sound much like a Super Bowl to you, but it sounds like a pretty good football game to me.
When was the last time we had one of those on Super Bowl Sunday?
