I am a writer of some literary pretensions as well as aspirations and know very well that today's recipe for success is intimate revelations—the more gruesome and salacious the better.

Sadly, my parents were very nice and loving people, and I have lived a life almost totally devoid of salace. For intimacy, I'm afraid you're going to have to make do with a medical update. I am, possibly even as you read this, lying on a slab in a Boston hospital undergoing an invasive procedure that is recommended as a preventive precaution for folks of a certain age.

I am not a stoic about colds or splinters, and so it has not surprised me—or my wife or anybody else to whom I've already kvetched—that this experience has not proved to be an exception. I did try to find some consolation, something beyond the possibility, of course, that it might save my life. About the only comforting notion I could come up with was the certainty that I will not be eating Jell-O again for another five years. After continually asking myself, "How bad can this be?" I concluded that, at least for me, it would pretty much be the equivalent of watching a Super Bowl XLII replay.

Actually, I am more of a stoic about Super Bowl losses, and Sunday's proved no exception. I brooded a little into Monday, but nothing too serious. It wasn't remotely as bad as 1976, when the referee Ben Dreith (I remember!) called a ridiculous roughing the passer penalty on "Sugar Bear" Hamilton against the Oakland Raiders on what would have been a game-ending play, costing the Patriots what I am certain would have been their first Super Bowl crown. My friend had to hold me back from kicking in the TV. (It was his TV, so he was motivated.) It certainly wasn't comparable to the Bucky Dent or Bill Buckner moments of Red Sox infamy, the latter of which cost me my dad's precious watch (and some plastering expenses) after I smashed a hole in the living room wall with my fist. This time there were no real goats, no horrendous gaffes, no egregious calls. Their guys just kicked our guys' butts—and made all the plays—in a fashion reminiscent of the Pats' Super Bowl upset of the Rams six years earlier.

In truth, I've found all the Patriots' Super Bowl losses relatively easy to take—and I've been tested three times now—even when my distress is compounded by a squandered shot at immortality and a champion that goes by the name New York (not to mention a quarterback that goes by the name Manning). Super Bowl defeats are, since we have been talking medical matters here, the equivalent of ripping off a Band-Aid—a flash of intense pain and then on with your life. World Series losses, by contrast, can be the equivalent of major surgery, and a bitter end to a seven-game series can scar for life.

Far worse when it comes to football fates is losing in the conference championship game, as the Pats did last year to the Indianapolis Colts. Then you are forced to endure two weeks of ceaseless hype about a bitter rival. After the Super Bowl everybody goes home, win or lose. Sure, New York gets a party, a parade and bragging rights (or, as is the case between our two cities, the reigning insult). But in Boston our heads and hearts are already drifting toward Ft. Myers, where pitchers and catchers report for spring training next week.

Read the Full Column Here 

My Perfect Super Bowl

I can claim a perfect record in Super Bowl XLII. My night was a true 100 percenter! Not only was i wrong about the result--there i had plenty of company--but i was wrong about every single aspect of the Giants' extraordinary 17-14 upset of the previously undefeated New England Patriots.

I said the Patriots would romp: no comment necessary.

I said the Patriots always owned the 4th quarter: it was that Giants who made the final seconds count.

I said the Giants could win only if they rushed the ball effectively: their rushing game was a non-factor.

I said the Giants couldn't win unless Eli Manning was sensational: he was perfectly serviceable, but nothing special through three quarters.

I said Eli would crumple in the 4th quarter: he was a standout, never more so than when he somehow eluded what appeared to be a sure sack and completed a critical pass to David Tyree.

I said the Giants' pass rush would not succeed in disrupting the Patriots: they harassed Brady relentlessly with an array of blitzes and turned him, at least for one night, into a perfectly ordinary quarterback--certainly not superior to Eli this night.

I said Tom Coughlin would never outcoach Bill Belichick: he did and Belichick will have to explain his bizarre decision not to attempt a 48-yard field goal that, in retrospect, could have been crucial.

I said a lot of other things that didn't turn out to be true either. Of course, had the Pats kept Manning in their grasp with less than a minute to go, none of that would be so painfully obvious. Still, perhaps I should have payed a little more attention to the kismet that was out there surrounding this surprising matchup. And a little more attention to history too.

The Patriots dynasty, one that may have ended tonight, began in the most unlikely fashion, with two straight losses to open the 2001 season. Nobody back then could have imagined that the Pats would rally to reach the Super Bowl and, behind a young, relatively inexperienced quarterback, upset the offensive juggernaut that was the St. Louis Rams. Does that sound remotely familiar?

This season the Giants lost their opening pair too. And they appeared headed for 0-3 and ignominy when they staged a comeback against the Redskins--and then were the lucky beneficiaries of a too-young quarterback and a too-old coach, as Washington failed to score in the final seconds with four cracks from the one-yard line. Having barely survived last season's disappointment, Couglin dodged the pink slip that was waiting for him; at 0-3 he would either have been sacked immediately or been a lame duck flapping his arms red-faced in frustration on the sideline.

Still, going into the final week of the regular season, the Giants were a playoff team, but hardly one that looked like anything more than a one-and-out entry. That's when Coughlin decided that rather than rest his starters for a game that meant nothing to the Giants' post-season standing, he would take a shot at knocking off the undefeated Pats. The Giants hit 'em with their best shot--or at least what appeared to be their best shot--and still came up short. Even worse, the naysayers could point to three starters injured in the game who would be sidelined for for the first playoff game--and all for nothing.

But football is strange game of emotions and chemistry. And clearly that game against New England turned out to mean something, not nothing. Apparently, even in defeat, there emerged a sense among the Giants that they could hold their own against  the NFL's best. And last night they proved it again--and, in the end, actually proved that hey could outplay the league's best.

The Giants upset will go down as one of big three in Super Bowl history, along with the Pats over the Rams six years ago and the Jets over the Colts way back in Super Bowl III. It was not pretty, but rather won with hard-nosed football that, with its intensity and last-second heroics, made for very high drama. And mercifully it managed to overshadow--at least for the evening--the "Spygate" story that haunts the Patriots and that will not die.

Maybe defeat will finally kill it. A U.S. senator may still wonder why the Patriots outplayed his Eagles in Super Bowl XXXIX, but maybe now can return to the country's more urgent business.. An assistant golf pro in Hawaii, having enjoyed his Warholian 15 minutes by hinting he knows of evil doings by the Pats video crew, may now go back to tending greens. If the Patriots had to be brought down, they were leveled the way all fans preferred to see it--not by pompous legislators or posturing nobodies, but by a inspired team that was simply better on the day that counted.

The Patriots had an extraordinary season and, knowing their style, will make no excuses. But maybe the burden of chasing history finally took its toll. Or maybe their luck simply ran out. Patriots fans can certainly look back and say the team might have been better off going into the Super Bowl had it lost that one game, to the Ravens back in early December, that the team clearly deserved to lose. But now, at 18-1, their record-breaking accomplishments have been rendered relatively meaningless, fodder for the stats-meisters and, at best, a motivational tool for Belichick next season.

The Super Bowl is not always about which team is better, as the Pats' victory over "The Greatest Team on Turf" once attested. Now the Patriots have been on the other end. And beyond that, I witnessed a far greater miracle: it turns out Tom Coughlin can smile. Who knew? Certainly not me. I knew nothing tonight.

Blogger, NEWSWEEK Contributor and very happy Giants fan Robert Cox files from the Super Bowl: 

Bucky bleeping Dent... Aaron bleeping Boone...

And now David bleeping Tyree.  When the Giants needed it.  When his quarterback needed it—scrambling, clawing, tearing, willing his away from New England defenders —David Tyree made a catch that will be replayed in every Super Bowl highlight reel for as long as there are Super Bowls.  As number two on the depth chart behind high-wattage star receiver Plaxico Burress, Tyree does not see a lot of balls thrown his way.  He sure made them count tonight including the 32-yard mother-of-all-catches with Giants trailing 14-10, 75 seconds on the clock at the ball at the Giants at their own 44.

Sure Eli Manning, Plaxico Burress, Michael Strahan, and Antonio Pierce were the stars, but it will be that hand-to-helmet catch that's going to stick in the craw of the now 18-1 Pats and their legions in PatriotNation.

Not only did the Patriots not win the Super Bowl and not complete their undefeated season but it of all teams it had to be the NEW YORK Giants dropping them just 39 seconds short of perfection.  It doesn't make up for it but for many New Yorkers the G-Men stealing the crown right out from under the self-anointed team of destiny takes a little bit of the sting out of the Red Sox's amazing comeback, down 3 games to none in the 2004 American League Championship Series, against the Yankees (OK, not really, that still sucked).

As for me, if I was on Cloud 9 after the Giants beat the Packers in Ice Bowl II then I must be on Cloud 10 now.

There's no point in rolling out the platitudes—a game for the ages, unforgettable, an instant classic—if you don't know what happened there's no point in my telling you here because anyone who cares about football was watching tonight.  As a long-time Giant fan I found myself watching the clock somewhere about the end of the first quarter, willing it to run out the quarter, the half, anything to shorten the game.  Incredibly, the clock made it all the way around to the fourth-quarter and with three minutes ago the Giants were hanging precariously to a 7-3 lead.

My seats in the Terrace level in the corner of the end zone was overpopulated with Patriot fans who broke into gleeful, greedy, vindicative, evil, rude, selfish, celebration (OK, they were just happy their team took the lead but hey, I'm a Giant fan).  They were absolutely certain it was all over.  A chant of "19-and-0...19-and-0...19-and-0" went up from the crowd.  The few Giants fans around me slumped in their seats.  Yet somehow the Giants rallied, give their fans the most exciting, riveting, frightening, joyous two minutes of football ever in the history of sports (OK, Super Bowl XLII was a really great game, but hey, I'm a Giant fan).

When the game finally ended I collapsed in my seat, exhausted and content, watching the scene of celebration unfold below me.  After the Giants received the Vince Lombardi Trophy and Eli Manning won the Cadillac MVP Award for Super Bowl XLII, I made my down to the field level seats and worked my to the railing above the ramp leading to the Giants locker room.  With all the jostling going on among delirious Giants fans it wasn't easy to hold my camera steady (but hey, I'm a Giant fan, not a professional photographer) but I did get some great shots of the Giants leaving the field in victory.

For a look at my complete set of photos from the Super Bowl click here (I will add captions on Monday).

Finally, as one of many who stood in awe and watched those two towers collapse, let me take a moment to note that three times since 9/11 a New York area team has had a chance to win a championship for the New York area.  The New York Yankees lost Game 7 of the 2001 World Series.  The New Jersey Nets were trounced by the Lakers in 2002 and lost to the San Antonio Spurs in 2003.  The Giants then become the first New York area team to win won for New York after the attack of the World Trade Center in 2001.  While that may not mean a lot of many people around the country it means a lot to New Yorkers, many of whom lost friends, families, co-workers and colleagues on that fateful September day. And now the Giants will get a victory parade in the Canyon of Heroes.  For that, thanks.

Blogger and NEWSWEEK Contributor Robert Cox continues to file from the Super Bowl:

 Blogger and NEWSWEEK Contributor Robert Cox continues to file from the Super Bowl:

At the airport, preparing for the long plane ride out to Phoenix (with a layover in frigid Chicago) I loaded up on the local New York papers as well as sports magazines to get up to speed on the media’s narratives for Super Bowl week. Media Day was Tuesday where the main story appeared to be a reporter in a wedding dress proposing to Tom Brady, Eli Manning and even a few second-stringers. Surprisingly, the Giants were not even the lead story in the New York tabloids--The New York Post and New York Daily News both featured the Mets blockbuster trade for Twins ace Johan Santana. Talk about a tough media town.  You can it even make the front page when you go the Super Bowl.

After reading all the New York papers and national magazines on the plane, then reading and watching the local coverage in Arizona, eight primary narratives emerged:

• Can the Patriots go 19-0?
• Is Tom Brady’s ankle OK?
• Tom Brady as all-around stud
• Are the Giants talking too much about winning the game?
• The coming of age of Eli Manning
• The enigma that is Bill Belichick
• Tom Coughlin’s transformation from Taciturn Terror to Teddy Bear
• The Giants road win streak of 10-0   
  

• The Cost – tickets, hotel rooms, rental cars, events
• TV Ratings – expectations are for a ratings bonanza for Fox
• Parties – the celebrities are arriving and the paparazzi are out in full-force

You could tell when when the New York Post starting calling Patriots quarterback Tom Brady a "girlie-man." You could tell when Mike Celizic vented on MSNBC.com about Boston's lame nickname, "Beantown," the fact that Sinatra never wrote a song about the city and likened Boston to cities like Cleveland, Minneapolis and Sacramento. "Compared to New York, it really is inferior," he wrote. You could tell when the old-timers in New York began trotting out the '50s Yankees and even started counting championships won by the Dodgers and Giants, two teams that fled the city a half century ago, as part of the cumulative proof of New York's unsurpassed and enduring sports legacy.

You could tell that, finally, we here in Boston have New York and its sports fans exactly where we have always dreamed of having them: Celtic green with envy. They desperately envy us our teams--our Patriots, Red Sox and Celtics. That they protest so much is, of course, only proof of how much they care and covet. So I willingly grant New York its championship heritage. It boasts 48 world championships in baseball, football, basketball and hockey compared to Boston's 31 titles, though it is worth noting that those are spread over eight teams not to mention the last century. The most relevant count, though, is championships in the 21st Century: If--hell, make that when--the Patriots win Sunday, that count will stand at Boston 6, New York 0. 

For years, Red Sox fans chanted "Yankees Suck!", a rather pathetic cry in the wilderness because they so obviously didn't. Even worse, Yankees fans didn't really care about our Red Sox, dismissing the team and the town as unworthy of a genuine rivalry. And they were right. But now it's not just the Yankees, but each and every one of their New York teams--the Yankees and Mets, the Jets and Giants, the Knicks, the Rangers, even the Red Bulls--is looking up at ours. And the city's fans can't stomach it. When the New York Post printed "10 reasons to hate Pats", the first one on the list was "So we can give hating the Red Sox the winter off." Just like Sacramento, huh?

You can tell how much all of New York City--with its great sports history, its extraordinary restaurants and its vibrant, cultural scene--just wants to start chanting, from the Battery to the Bronx: "Boston sucks!"

There's no doubt that there is a significant point-spread factor in the growing conviction that New York is going to make a game of it Sunday against New England and quite possibly pull of a giant upset. During the first half of the season, the Pats were every bit as perfect against the spread as they were against the opposition. But over the second half of the regular season, it was a slightly different story. The Pats still won all the games, but they had to come from behind four separate times in the fourth quarter and the team covered the spread just twice. Moreover, it has failed to cover in either of the two playoff games. Despite that iffy performance for bettors of late, the Pats, a team that eked out a three-point victory over the Giants last month, have once again been established as a huge favorite--12 points in Super Bowl XLII.

It is the psychology of those recent point-spread shortfalls that has fed the notion that the Pats could be ripe for the picking. Never mind that the second-half spreads were seriously inflated by unsophisticated bettors leaping on the Patriots bandwagon. The betting result has pretty much obscured what the Pats accomplished in their two playoff games. They defeated two very good and very hot teams, Jacksonville and San Diego, in totally different fashion--one with a precision--indeed record-breaking--short passing game, the other with a smashmouth running attack. And though the Pats were challenged early in each game by strong performances by young quarterbacks, neither victory seemed in doubt by the fourth quarter and the Pats won both games by comfortable, two-score margins. Yet somehow the failure to cover made those victories seem disappointing rather than dominant or daunting.

The other nervous-making factor, especially for Patriots fans, is that they, of course, remember: the Pats were the last Super Bowl team to come in as a double-digit underdog, 14 points to St. Louis in 2002, before the Super Bowl XXXVI upset that launched the New England dynasty. And the previous time before that, in 1998, defending champion Green Bay was a 12-point favorite before losing to John Elway's Denver Broncos 31-24.

Rather remarkably, this will be the 14th time in 42 Super Bowls--fully one-third of them--that there has been a double-digit favorite. The first four games, back before the contests were yet "Super" and were simply called the AFL-NFL World Championship Games, all featured double-digit spreads in favor of the long-established National Football League champ. In the first two, the Packers walloped the AFL's Kansas City and Oakland, by huge margins. But in the final two years before the two leagues merged, bettors failed to grasp that the AFL had caught up and maybe even surpassed the stodgier NFL. First Joe Namath's New York Jets stunned the Baltimore Colts, regarded as a juggernaut, 16-7. A year later Len Dawson and the Kansas City Chiefs kicked the Minnesota Vikings 23-7.

Despite those notable upsets, more double-digit favorites have won and covered the spread to boot than bombed in the Super Bowl. In those 13 Super Bowls with a spread of at least 10 points, the favorite boasts a 9-4 record in the games and is 7-5-1 against the spread.