HAD the ending of yesterday’s game between the Giants and the Eagles occurred in the final game of last season, Michael Strahan might have found himself facing attempted murder charges the following morning.
After all, considering the state of relations between Strahan and Jim Fassel at the time, the dumping of a bucket of water over Fassel’s head could easily have been misinterpreted as an attempt by the defensive end to drown the head coach.
But yesterday, there was no mistaking the intent of the bath Strahan gave Fassel a minute and 56 seconds before the Giants 20-10 victory in the NFC Divisional Playoff Game became official.
This was the traditional Giant defense’s Baptism-by-Gatorade, its way of showering affection on a coach after an important victory.
What made this one different was that a year ago, this Giant defense was more likely to shower this coach with nothing but scorn.
“For the first time this season, we really felt like he was the coach, not just an offensive coordinator,” Strahan had said earlier this week. “Now, he’s a team-wide presence.”
For most of their 75-year history, the Giants’ best offensive weapon has been its defense. Making a career offensive geek like Fassel head coach of the Giants seemed like the worst casting move since some studio decided John Wayne would make a good Genghis Khan.
And for the first three seasons, Fassel played the part just as convincingly.
By the end of last season, the Giants’ dirty little secret was out: The defense hated the offense, the offense wasn’t crazy about the defense, and Strahan and Jessie Armstead, the spiritual leaders of the team, had little use for the head coach.
It got so bad that Strahan took the opportunity of Fassel’s absence from the team to visit his dying mother to take a few head slaps at the coach.
If it wasn’t the worst moment in Giant history -any franchise that has The Fumble and Dave Brown in its history can withstand more than a little in-house bickering -it was at least among the most uncomfortable.
But before this season, Fassel went out of his way to reach out to the defense, specifically Strahan and Armstead, and once he handed over control of the offense to Sean Payton, Strahan and Armstead reached back.
Yesterday, the reconciliation was complete. Fassel became more than just the head coach of the team. He gained acceptance by the defense, an exclusive club-within-the-club, of which Strahan is the unofficial – and unquestioned – chairman.
“If it’s your play on this defense, you have to make it,” Strahan said. “Otherwise, you’re letting everybody down.”
On a day of big plays by the defense and special teams – Ron Dixon’s 97-yard return of the opening kickoff for a touchdown, Jason Sehorn’s spectacular rolling, batting, juggling interception that became the game-clinching touchdown – no Giant defender came up bigger than Strahan.
Outsized – and this week at least, out-talked – by his nemesis, the Eagles’ 6-7, 330-pound tackle Jon Runyan – Strahan still terrorized Donovan McNabb, Philadelphia’s most dangerous offensive weapon.
In an LT-like 42-second span of the second quarter, Strahan twice shoved Runyan aside as if he were a sack of stale doughnuts to wrap up McNabb. The second time, he not only got the sack, he got the football out of his arms and left it for Cedric Jones to scoop up.
“I think [Strahan] had an outstanding game,” Fassel said. “Every time I looked up, he was making a play. Big players make big plays in big games, and he did that, without a doubt. That’s top of the line NFL defensive line play.”
“He’s a good player,” Runyan said of Strahan. “On both of those plays, I felt like I was late off the ball. You can’t do that against a player like that.”
And all day long, Strahan, Armstead and Hamilton did what few teams have been able to do with McNabb, keep him contained within the pocket and prevent him from shredding them with his improvisatory scrambles.
“We’re just fortunate that everyone plays badly when they play us,” said Sehorn, in a sly dig at Philadelphia’s pre-game contention that in their two regular season losses to the Giants, McNabb had played strangely ineffectively.
“I mean, everyone knows we’re not a very good football team,” Sehorn said.
Strahan, every bit as outspoken as Sehorn but half as sarcastic, had his own take on McNabb’s sub-par performances against the Giants: “Other teams wait for [McNabb] to run,” Strahan said. “We go right after him.”
In some ways, this year was a personal disappointment for Strahan. After three straight Pro Bowl selections, the eight-year veteran was left off the squad this year.
His sack total, 9.5, was an improvement over 1999’s 5.5, but still decidedly modest.
And until his appearance in the Giants’ press room on Wednesday, this most loquacious of players had been operating under a self-imposed gag order following last year’s debacle.
But in other ways, Strahan believed his game had made improvements that aren’t readily apparent, the way the effectiveness of the Giants is often lost on casual observers.
“Now, I don’t care if I get a sack, or who gets the sack, just as long as we get it,” he said. “It’s the same thing with this team. Now, everyone believes in what we’re doing. Everyone plays together. We’re not just individuals making plays anymore. Now, we’re a team.”