Somewhere early on in the 1994 Quentin Tarantino classic, Pulp Fiction, almost immediately after the great Mia/Tony Rocky Horror foot massage debate—more than likely the most compelling foot massage debate in the history of American film—Samuel L. Jackson's character, Jules, goes off on an elongated biblical rant—something about the wrath of God—and within the meaty diatribe I very specifically remember the words—furious anger.
Soon thereafter bullets were flying everywhere and when the smokey residue cleared somewhat at least two very dead bodies were the definitive end result.
Fast forward to this past Sunday, December 19th, 2010, at new Giants Stadium.
It was the scene, if I may, of a similarly ugly crime against Giant humanity—an afternoon likely to live in infamy for as long as the New York Giant universe remains in existence and emotions ranging from utter shock & dismay to absolute, unbridled, furious anger arose amongst fans and players alike in the aftermath of the stunning 38-31 loss to the hated Philadelphia Eagles.
By now though, a little more than three days, 74 hours or 4500 minutes later, some of the fans—and hopefully all of the players—have been able to refocus.
Another monster game against Green Bay approaches this weekend, a playoff berth at stake, and it would seem to make sense to shake loose of most everything to do with the Philly debacle in preparation for this critical match with an equally desperate Packer bunch who have won nine of their last ten at Lambeau Field.
Make sense to some, or even most, but not to my most Giant crazed buddy, Peck, who went off on another apoplectic rant this morning about everything from the special teams, Coaches Quinn & Coughlin, to the inexplicable nonchalance of the waterboys.
On the move, from the other side of my I Phone, I only naturally pictured spittle flying everywhere. The whole of Peck's epidermis being overtly red complected, and it was only shortly after the termination point of this rather one sided, blood curdling, scream fest that the following did occur to me.
All that anger and rage, if only the Giants themselves can go into this weekend's game with the Pack carrying the same kind of fury in their hearts, if only they can finally play sixty minutes of intense, unrelenting football then maybe they can take a crucial first step in repairing some psyche's—win a game in what promises to be real tundra like conditions on one of the most famous winter fields the game has ever known.
Yes, the ghost of the great Vince Lombardi will be hovering.
Vociferous Cheese-Heads will be demanding revenge for the stunning 2007 N.F.C. final (Favre's last pass in a Green Bay uniform).
And most importantly for the Pack—Matt Flynn's excellent game against the Pats notwithstanding—Aaron Rodgers should be back under center with ample targets in Greg Jennings, James Jones, Donald Driver and Jordy Nelson.
Each of those receivers can spell big trouble for a Giant secondary that has generally played well this year but at the same time proven itself inexorably vulnerable to big plays in clutch moments when the damage done, well, simply cannot be undone.
That won't do against a Green Bay team tied for the league lead in scoring defense—only 15.7 points per game, a mere 10.7 over their past seven contests.
He's been a little banged up this year, missed a game or two, but when he's been on the field, Clay Matthews has played out of his mind. He leads the league with 12.5 sacks and figure he'll be getting in Eli Mannings face a time or two this Sunday with the Packer season hanging by a thread.
So what of it?
A bunch of clever X's and O's?
The Giants need to have their running game revving. No turnovers from Manning, no hangover on their own defensive side, improved play on special teams, no more death inducing kicks from rookie Matt Dodge.
Points as obvious as Larissa Riquelme's curves, but even all of the above rolled into one won't guarantee victory for the Giants this Sunday against a Packer team every bit as desperate as they are heading into the critical week sixteen match-up.
What will it take?
What will it take to ensure victory when nothing less will do in order to diminish some of last weekend's pain and put the Giants back in control of their own destiny, at least as far as squeezing a Wild Card spot out of the 2010 regular season goes?
Well like the man said, furious, unabated anger—no gunfire, but a pass rush that will not be deterred under any circumstance.
A pass rush that will make chop meat out of Aaron Rodgers, (not as nimble of Vick, but as capable as any other running Q.B. in the league), and if it comes to it, good looking neophyte Matt Flynn too.
They must suffocate the mediocre Pack running game, and unleash their own, frothing, twin monsters, Bradshaw & Jacobs, (1909 yards rushing between them thus far in 2010), behind an offensive line that will take no quarter and blast holes thru the dangerous Packer front seven.
For sixty minutes this Sunday the N.Y. Giants must be at their furious, physical, intimidating best.
They must play the kind of football that channels memories of L.T., Carl Banks, Harry Carson and that championship bunch.
A group that didn't really worry so much about X's & O's. That team punched you in the mouth and never stopped until the final gun went off. All year long Giant fans everywhere have been waiting for this team with all of it's talent to do the same.
They want this Giant team to be furiously angry over last Sunday's defeat.
Tto take that anger out on the Green Bay Packers this weekend in Lambeau for sixty minutes, and not a minute less.
No Giant fan needs to be reminded why and they can only hope the team doesn't either.
That's it for today,