Marvin Harrison: The NFL's quiet bad boy

ON FOOTBALL

Marvin Harrison is not your typical controversial NFL player.

He's never shot himself in a crowded New York City nightclub.

He's never called one quarterback gay, alienated himself from his next QB (and team) and done push-ups in his driveway while being interviewed.

And, no, he's never rained money on Las Vegas strippers.

But if the recent stories are true — and I, for one, think they are — Harrison isn't the quiet, goes-about-his-business, role-model type player he's always been perceived to be.

What he's accomplished, actually, is quite amazing. And I'm not talking about his prodigal 13-year NFL career that has included eight pro bowls and will certainly boost him up and into Canton one day.

It is remarkable, to me, that Harrison has managed to keep his profile under the radar his entire career. Even when he was hauling in hundreds of passes and catching every ball gunned his way by Peyton Manning, we never heard anything about Harrison's personal life.

Or his off-the-field personality.

Or ... as reported by a recent ESPN The Magazine article, the not-so-pristine incidents involving the so-called "good guy."

The story reported that in 2003, before an AFC wild-card game, Harrison grabbed a New York Jets ball boy by the throat after a ball the kid was fielding violated Harrison's "personal space" as he played catch with Manning. Later, at a medical station, the boy's neck showed marks from Harrison's choke job.

Until reading the article, I had never heard of such an incident. I read the sports page every day.

Maybe that's because the boy never pressed charges. All he asked for was an apology, which he never received.

And that's not all. The story reported that in 2005, three nights before the Pro Bowl, Harrison again grabbed the neck of an innocent teenager. This time, the kid had shown the audacity to keep pestering Harrison for an autograph. So what was the Pro Bowler's response?

He took a swing at the kid, "then grabbed him by the throat and put an arm around his neck." After some more physical play — hey, maybe Marvin thought he was on the football field, right? — Harrison and his friends ran off.

And, yep, I never heard of this, either, at the time. Hey, maybe I'm simply forgetful or ignorant. But something tells me I'm not the only one who thought, until recently, that Harrison was a quiet, minds-his-own-business class act. Reticent and reclusive, yes, but a good person, a good citizen.

(In case you were wondering, no charges were pressed in the Honolulu beatdown.)

Hopefully, now, people are starting to realize that the Marvin Harrison we think we've known all these years is a disguise. Not the football player — the man wearing No. 88, who's made all the great catches, ran all the identical routes and caught all the touchdowns is real. There's nothing fake about Harrison's on-field performances, nothing to diminish his storied career.

But Harrison the man is simply not who we've thought he was.

He may even be a criminal.

No charges have been brought — isn't that a theme here? — but it is believed by many in Harrison's home neighborhood in North Philly that after a minor argument last April near one of many businesses owned by the Philly native, he fired several shots in his home streets. He, allegedly, was aiming at the man whom he'd argued with, but instead struck a bystander in the back and shattered the windows of a car in which a 2-year-old kid and his father sat. Thankfully, no one was badly injured.

Later, police matched five shell casings found in the area of the shooting with a model of a gun registered to the wide receiver. The gun is a Belgian-made semiautomatic that, apparently, is a military-type pistol which, according to the magazine, "fires bullets that pierce 48 layers of Kevlar."

In one word, dangerous. It is a popular gun because it's easy to conceal. Now doesn't that fit Harrison?

Nothing has been proved. Harrison acknowledge the argument but denied firing the gun. And so on. A typical story involving an athlete denying any wrongdoing. That's the boring part.

What's interesting is the shock the story created. When I first read, in April, about the incident, I almost dropped my cup of tea. Was it a typo? Marvin Harrison, shooting? Pacman Jones, sure. Chris Henry, no surprise. But with all the wide-receiver divas in the NFL, Harrison was the last guy I'd suspect of being involved in such a thing.

Others were just as surprised. Even to this day, the story hasn't gotten nearly the attention of a Terrell Owens press conference. Or take the Plaxico Burress saga. Sure, Plax is an idiot for taking a gun into a club and somehow shooting himself in the leg. Now, he'll more than likely spend time in jail instead of catch Eli Manning passes.

But consider this: If the story involving Harrison is true, which man committed a greater fault: the guy who shot himself or the guy who shot at another man? It's an easy answer, folks.

I won't even get into comparing Harrison and Owens. T.O. epitomizes the word "diva," but he's never come close to committing a crime, let alone nearly choked a ball boy.

We've always loved Harrison for his business-like approach to the game while loathing Owens' look-at-me persona. Fair enough — Harrison probably remains to this day a better teammate.

But now it's time Harrison be judged for his actions.

Any innocent can hide in the shadows. But when his innocence enters a gray area, even a quiet recluse like Harrison must be put under the microscope.

Giants play small ball to slay mighty Patriots

ON FOOTBALL

The New York Giants, those guys who took down the heavily favored Patriots Sunday, remind me of a baseball team.

I know it sounds weird — the two sports don't have too many similarities — but when trying to put New York's championship in perspective, the 2005 Chicago White Sox come to mind.

A team no one expected to challenge for the peak of its sport's success prior to the playoffs.

A team that didn't light up the scoreboard, but did enough to win.

A team that didn't make "SportsCenter" plays, necessarily, but the little plays that coaches/managers notice.

A team with recognizable names, but not that one star, that stud with the famous girlfriend.

OK, I'll stop there. Comparing baseball to football isn't easy (and I don't advise you to try it), but the White Sox's bunting, run-producing offense and stellar pitching of three years ago is what I thought of as I watched from my couch Sunday night.

It started with the Giants' opening drive. As they set records for first downs made on the first drive of a Super Bowl and for the time of a possession (almost 10 minutes), I realized how they could pull off the monumental upset.

It wouldn't be easy, but they needed to run the clock as much as possible on offense, keeping Tom Brady on the sideline until his feet fell asleep. They needed to sustain drives and then make New England's offense do likewise. The Patriots were going to score — no one would doubt that — but if the Giants could make them march up and down the field, more time would run off the clock and there'd always be the chance of a turnover happening or a drive-halting penalty or sack.

Just keep the game close, I thought to myself. Shorten the game as much as possible and stay within a score, and the Giants had a chance.

And that's exactly what they did. In fact, they executed so well, they were able to get away with a few mistakes — most notably Eli Manning's interception deep in New England territory in the second quarter.

Just like the White Sox's improbable run to the World Series title began and ended with great pitching, the Giants' victory Sunday was all about defense. During the week, Brady laughed at New York wide receiver Plaxico Burress' suggestion that New York would win 23-17.

"We're only going to score 17 points?" Brady laughed. "OK. Is Plax playing defense?"

Burress wasn't on defense, but Justin Tuck and his fellow linemen were. You've heard the numbers by now, but the bottom line is that the Giants pressured Brady the entire game, never letting him get into the type of rhythm he's accustomed to.

When the Patriots go the ball back with 35 seconds remaining and all three timeouts, I predicted overtime. I certainly didn't forecast Jay Alford — I thought the Alfords were basketball people? — recording his lone sack of the game on second down, which was the play that essentially cemented the 2007-08 Patriots' first loss.

But that's exactly what happened. And when Brady fired deep balls to Randy Moss on the final two plays, both times they were broken up. No spectacular interception was needed. No fumble recovery. Just a big-time sack and a pair of breakups. That's how the Giants won.

Of course, similar to the White Sox's Scott Podsednik — the smallest, scrawniest guy on the team — hitting a walk-off home run in Game 2 of the World Series, the Giants got a big play from an unexpected hero.

My guess is that about 9.6 percent of the large television audience knew who David Tyree was prior to the fourth quarter Sunday, but with his first touchdown of the season — in the Giants' 20th game, for crying out loud — and then the play of the game, Tyree cemented his legacy even if he quits playing football on Thursday.

The Giants faced a 3rd-and-5 at their own 44-yard line with just over a minute to play. Manning dropped back and was immediately under immense pressure from every Patriots player in his vicinity. By someone's grace, however — maybe it was brother Peyton in the luxury suite who gave Eli special power for one play — Manning escaped the pressure and launched a pass about 35 yards in the air.

Watching Manning release the ball, I thought the pigskin was en route to the stomach of a Patriots defender. It seemed like the kind of rushed, off-balance throw down field that is destined for trouble.

But then Tyree made the catch of his life, leaping to not only out-muscle New England safety — and former HGH user — Rodney Harrison for the ball, but to hang onto it in his outstretched hands as he and Harrison hit the ground.

Again, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Initially, I was convinced the ball must have hit the turf. But no challenge was needed. It was a clear catch, just like Podsednik's clear home run, and it gave me the feeling that maybe — just maybe — Sunday night was a Giants night.

You know the story from there. Another unheralded receiver, rookie Steve Smith, keeps his feet in bounds to pick up a first down on 3rd-and-11, and on the very next play, Manning finds a wide-open Burress on the fade route for the go-ahead score.

After the defense finished the job, it was celebration time.

Before the game, I thought the Patriots were the better team, and I still believe that's the case. I would pick them to win seven out of 10 games against the Giants.

But that's the beauty of the playoffs, of the winner-of-one-game-takes-all scenario. On Sunday, the Giants were the best team on the field. The Patriots, as gracious in defeat as I've ever seen them (minus, of course, Bill Belichick), admitted as much. They didn't so much lose the game as the Giants won it.

There's no doubt about it.

You can always point to a play and say, "If only this had happened..." Today, I'm sure, Patriots fans are lamenting Brady's second-to-last throw, when if he could have chucked the ball 5 yards farther, Moss might have separated himself from the defenders and scored a miracle touchdown.

As good as the Manning-to-Tyree connection was — it's already a frontrunner in the "Greatest play in a Super Bowl" debate — the Giants' victory wasn't decided by one play. The game was not a sprint but rather a marathon. What happened between Jordan Sparks' protracted national anthem and Belichick's early departure from the field resulted in 17-14 Giants.

Not a bad guess at all, Plax. Guess your defense backed you up.

Now if only Jermaine Dye had predicted a sweep of the Astros in '05, my argument might be stronger.

Super Bowl prediction: Don't be stupid, the Pats will win

ON FOOTBALL

I'm done going with the "sexy picks," enough with taking the underdogs, I'm through with trying to be "that guy."

The New England Patriots will win the Super Bowl. I "guarenSheed" it.

34-20. That'll be the score.

It will be 20-17 in the third quarter before New England pulls away with a touchdown late in the quarter and about midway through the fourth.

The perfect season complete, 19-0, champaign, blah, blah, blah.

Sure, it's the boring, predictable pick, but anyone outside of the Giants locker room — those guys have to think they can win; if they don't, it'll be 56-12 — who actually thinks New York will win has lost a few too many brain cells.

Go ahead, bring up Tom Brady's ankle. I'm telling you right now, it won't be a factor.

Go ahead, tell me how great the Giants' defensive front is. But, yeah, don't mention the best offensive line in football.

Go ahead, say the Giants' running game will bully the New England linebackers like scrawny kids on the playground. I'm sure Tedy Bruschi — with his three rings — and his boys are used to being underestimated.

I'm sorry for being so blunt, but I am tired of making the "unpopular pick," of taking a team because I have a feeling they're more "hungry" then the guys who have won on the big stage before.

Three years ago, I was silly enough to pick the Eagles over the Patriots. I remember doing some kind of debate with a fellow writer for my college paper. I think I mentioned Donovan McNabb's Campbell Soup ads as a reason Philly would win. I was dreadfully wrong as the soup, possibly, caused McNabb to fatigue in the final minutes ... and started the whole T.O.-McNabb tift ...and eventually led to T.O.'s dismissal from Philly.

So, I'm sorry, Eli, but your Oreo ad isn't going to lead your Giants to victory (nor will your "SportsCenter" brotherly love ad with Peyton).

Go ahead, talk about the Giants' momentum, about Manning's growth as a quarterback, about the Giants coming so close in the team's regular-season meeting. It doesn't matter. The Patriots are the better team and will find a way to win.

There's nothing else to predict. I don't know if Randy Moss will catch 12 balls or one. I don't know if Brady will throw zero interceptions or three. Both scenarios are possible, but as New England proved nearly two weeks ago, it can win ugly.

Maybe Plaxico Burress will be correct. Maybe New England will score just 17 points — although I'd bet this laptop and my kitchen counter on the Patriots scoring 20-plus points. But even if they do, it'll be more than the Giants put up.

I'm not going to address the "best team ever" argument. Not now at least. Who knows what would happen if Brady and Terry Bradshaw faced off?

But I think I watch enough football to know that these Patriots are better than these Giants in just about every phase of the game, and even if they give a B- performance, they'll come out on top.

Patriots 34, Giants 20.

I'm sticking to it even if Randy Moss eats some bad fish on Saturday night.

Stop kidding yourself otherwise.

In typical Lions fashion

ON FOOTBALL

After I stayed out very late Saturday night, I slept in until 2:48 p.m. Sunday afternoon. Before cursing myself for wasting half the day or trudging to the bathroom to wash my face, I grabbed the bedside remote to check on the Week 14 NFL scores.

The first score I noticed? Detroit 20, Dallas 14 — in the third quarter.

Since I made the Michigan-to-North Carolina jump the first week of October, I hadn't seen one Lions game. Of course, usually that's a good thing, but not when the alternative is watching the dull Panthers. And something told me, after my long hibernation, that this was one Lions game I didn't want to miss.

So instead of reading the Sunday paper or cooking myself some eggs, I bolted out the door and drove the 8.3 miles to Buffalo Wild Wings — the dream spot for NFL fans. When I entered, every early game had its own TV. The Cowboys-Lions battle had gained access to one of the big screens (mostly because of the number of 'Boys fans in attendance).

There was one other Lions fan in the joint, and as I took the only available seat and introduced myself to a grizzly, likes-to-swear Giants fan, the other Lions rooter pounded fists with me. Could the 6-6 Lions knock off the NFC's elite, the 11-1 Cowboys? Could thy get that win that might just sneak them in the playoffs?

We wanted to be witnesses. It's not every year a Lions game during the Holiday Season actually matters. Usually by the time my family mounts the tree, the Lions have 11 losses in their back pocket.

So this Sunday was special. Until, that is, the game ended.

In typical Lions fashion.

First there was the missed field goal. Jason "Automatic" Hanson — the MVP of the team for the past 10-plus years — pushed a gimme 35-yard attempt to the right that would have given Detroit a two-possession lead, 30-21.

Then there was the booted fumble. On Dallas' game-winning drive in the waning moments, quarterback Tony Romo was stripped of the ball, which bounced directly toward Lion Paris Lenon. All he had to do was fall on the ball, and the timeout-less 'Boys would be done, sauteed, boiled. But, instead, Lenon tried to scoop up the pigskin and kicked it directly to a Dallas lineman. Who knew what to do.

From there, the rest of the Lions' demise was all too predictable. As I sat watching, there was no rally cap, no superstitious move I could make to change the ending. Dallas converted a fourth down. Romo guided them down to the Detroit 16-yard line.

And, finally, he completed the inevitable with a touchdown pass down the middle to super tight end Jason Witten, who caught a team-record 15 balls on the day but somehow raced untouched to pay dirt on the game's most important play.

A terrible kickoff return, two incompletions and a sack later, the comeback was complete. Dallas had outscored Detroit 14-0 in the fourth quarter — in Detroit — to win 28-27. This one had to hurt the most of the hundreds of losses the Lions have sustained in recent memory.

In my 2007 NFL Preview, I predicted six wins for the Lions. I didn't, however, expect them to arrive at that number in this fashion. Five weeks ago, after Detroit drilled Denver 44-7, my friend texted me, saying the Lions would make the playoffs. I wanted to agree with him, really did, but I knew this franchise too well.

Now, the Lions are toast. With games at San Diego next week and at Green Bay the season's final week — sandwiched around a home game against the awful Chiefs — there's no way Detroit wins its remaining three games, which is almost certainly what it needs to do to play into January.

It still might surpass my expectation of six wins. And, I must admit, this team has been better on several levels than I expected. Except for a few duds, the offense has been as explosive as advertised. The defense has shown up on occasion. And no "Fire Millen" marches have occurred outside Ford Field.

But there are no moral victories in the NFL. The bottom line is how many games you win. And for the eighth consecutive season, it appears the Lions are headed for familiar territory — a seat in front of the TV during the playoffs.

As I left "B-dubs" late Sunday afternoon, with the North Carolina sun beginning to set, I could only shake my head and smile. Why, I wondered, did I squander the first two hours of my day to watch the same old story?

Not to mention have to listen to the cigarette-wielding, voluble Giants fan spout off about Plaxico Burress until I had to turn my chair.