That he is.
Because the definition, it seems to me, of an “elite” quarterback, is really whether or not he can win you a Super Bowl. Eli’s won two, so questioning his eliteness is a bit arbitrary. The guy’s a beast. He wins big games.
That, my friends, is settled.
So let’s ask a couple unsettled questions about the fine youngin of the Manning quarterback crop.
Is Eli the best Manning?
The only way to potentially figure this one out is to compare Eli’s whole career of eight seasons to Peyton’s initial eight.
Peyton’s first eight years netted him some killer yardage totals, summing up to 33,189. Eli’s currently at 27,579, good for about 17% less mileage than Peyton (Eli started 9 less games than Peyton in that span, which came during his rookie season, and realistically would have netted him about thousand yards more at his rookie rate).
Touchdowns? Peyton 244, Eli 185.
Interceptions? Peyton 130, Eli 129.
Eli’s highest single-season completion percentage of that span was 62.9%. Peyton beat that mark four times during that span, with a high mark of 67.6%.
Stats-wise, Peyton definitely takes the regular season cake, no doubt. Eli has zero case in this department.
That being, until, another interesting stat comes into play: game-winning drives.
According to Pro Football Reference, Peyton had 25 game-winning drives in his first eight seasons, while Eli had just one less, at 24. Interestingly similar clutch situation statistics for these to broheims. Both gentlemen are quite cool under pressure, but this still doesn’t pull Eli ahead in the least sense. Just keeps him even and pacing.
Although, that’s before we break out the most important stat in all the land…
Super Bowl Victories:
– Eli Manning, 2
– Peyton Manning, 0
Peyton didn’t win his first Super Bowl until his ninth season. Eli, on the other hand, has him here by two big ones, a giant boost to his case as the better Manning.
And I hear naysayers to my last stat saying, “Well winning a Super Bowl is a team thing, so you can’t just give all that credit to Eli because the teams surrounding him were better.”
And to that I say, “I don’t really care, because it takes receivers to run routes/catch balls and linemen to block properly and running backs to set up QBs for all those stats to accumulate; different defenses are thrown at each guy, and yadda yad yadda ya… Call this a bit sentimental, but I see the ‘2’ next to Eli’s name, and the word ‘winner’ pops into my head. Technically, any number can be spun as an individual stat or team stat. Football’s a team game, so the above is just the way I, myself, interpret it.”
And as all LeBron James haters, myself included, like to point out, who cares if your stats rock? Winning. Is. Everything.
So if winning is indeed the point, and the Super Bowl is the greatest win one could possess, why can’t I crown Eli the better Manning?
Well, I can.
But the thing is…
There’s one last really unreliably reliable examination that doesn’t really involve stats at all – the eye test. Everything about Peyton’s game looks better. It feels better. It bleeds impressive, golden blood droplets of assassination. Gruden deems him “surgical.” Even though Eli’s won those two Super Bowls, I still feel like I’d have a better chance winning a championship with Peyton’s skill set and super powers than Eli’s.
Would I rather have Eli’s first eight years? Yes. Super Bowls beat all. But I still think Peyton’s potential to win the big game those first eight years outweighs Eli’s, and as intangible as that idea may seem, at gunpoint, I’m still taking Peyton.*
*Now if #18 is finito with the neck injury, and Eli keeps doing his thing, I’d most definitely revisit this question.
Is Eli a Hall of Famer?
NFL-wise, winning one Super Bowl is like conquering K2. And with the younger Manning now in possession of two slabs of champion hardware? This puts Eli in fantastically superb company, with the likes of:
– Terry Bradshaw (4)
– Joe Montana (4)
– Troy Aikman (3)
– Tom Brady (3)
– John Elway (2)
– Ben Roethlisberger (2)
– Bob Griese (2)
– Jim Plunkett (2)
– Roger Staubach (2)
– Bart Starr (2)
And then comes Eli, with dos. That’s a pretty badass crop of individuals. Every retired player on that list is in the Hall except Plunkett, whose monstrous Raider defenses carried him to the Super Bowl victories of XV and XVIII.
Stats-wise, Eli’s pretty good. They aren’t mind-blowing, but those 24 come-back victories embrace my inner HOF voter tenderly. He’s now become the King of the Hot Streak as well with these insane runs at the end of two separate seasons. Sire Clutchness.
Sure, maybe that’s his whole team conquering the gnarly wave from Wild Card cliffhangers to Super Bowl champs, but he’s the leader of that squad. He’s the face of the franchise. And consequently, a huge chunk of the Giant’s inherent ability to get hot and beat disgustingly good teams (18-0 Pats, this year’s Packers) is on Eli’s shoulders, and really, isn’t turning teams into synergistic awesomeness wrecking balls of fury, demolishing their way to Super Bowl victories, what the Hall of Fame was initially created for?
So without knowing what the rest of his career would look like, I would have to say yes, put Eli in Canton. Winning beats all. Winning puts cities on their feet. Winning immortalizes you.
Ask any retired stats-filled star who never won a ‘ship what their one regret was, and what’s their answer?
“I never won the big game.”
Ask any retired Super Bowl winning star what their one regret was?
“Nothing.”
Is being “nice” the new “cool”?
Because it damn sure looks like it. For all my life, when a girl described a guy as “nice,” he was automatically uncool and boring and blah. Nobody ever wanted to be described as “nice.”
If that was the first adjective used to paint your picture, out would automatically pop a canvas covered in tones of monotonous greys.
But look at the two most interesting stories of this past NFL season: Eli and Tebow, the two seemingly nicest guys in the NFL.
And for all I know, Tom Brady could be the nicest guy on the planet, but he
– had a kid with Moynahan and then they broke it off
– is way too good looking “to be normal”
– is very terse with the media, in many eyes, coming off as an ass
– dates a supermodel
– is a product of the visual curmudgeon Belichick
I think of all those things before “nice” ever comes to mind with Brady. And I don’t look down on any of them. They just don’t particularly coincide with “nice.”
But with Eli… and with Tim… they’re just so extra dog gone nice. The thing is, normally, this would mean that they’re unappealing and boring and not worth caring about, but honestly, what lady on the planet wouldn’t want to come home to Eli Manning reading their children a bedtime story? And what guy, who truly loves the game, can take his eyes off an Eli two-minute drill at the end of quarter numero quatro?
So when Eli, Master of Dorksville and Wielding Unsmoothness beat up once again on the Handsome Badass with Supermodel Wife Tom Brady, it nicked another notch, and really, branded a gigantic exclamation point, on the idea that being nice is kind of effing cool these days.
So?
So Eli’s probably a future Hall of Famer. And he’s got a decent chance to outshine Peyton, something nobody involved with the NFL was willing to admit before this year’s playoff prance.
And he’s also showing the world that a man making a run for the best quarterback on the planet doesn’t have to be smooth or witty or strikingly handsome. The guy can just be plain, old nice.
That, and be able to sling the pigskin, all the way right over that there mountain.
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