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AN OPEN LETTER TO THE 4-0 GIANTS

10/31/2008 - New York Giants
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Dear G-Men,

What fortune! You haven't lost since December 2007, and since a certain Stetson man went down for the season, you're still the prohibitive Super Bowl favorite. And hey, the last time you went undefeated through your first four games was in 1990, when you rode the wisdom of The Tuna and the golden arm of one Jeff Hostetler to a 13-3 record and a championship.

But (there's always a but!), six other times in franchise history you were undefeated this deep into the season. Remember those? Of course not. You don't, because, in those six once promising seasons, you failed to make the playoffs half the time.

The New York media is canonizing you now. But, if history is any indication, you are just the wrong end of a coin flip away from being thrown right back beneath the rear tires of a Greyhound by season's end.

Yes, you've proven that your supposed personnel issues, well, aren't an issue. But why would they be when the last three teams you've played have only one win combined. Yeah, you stuck it to the Redskins in Week 1, but they were far from the finely-tuned machine they are now. And, while we're not prone to hyperbole, we're pretty sure Ty Willingham's Huskies could have dropped 40 on the Seahawks yesterday.

Coming up, you've got the Browns in Cleveland and the Niners at home, which means you'll soon be 6–0, and Mercury Morris' cell phone will start ringing again.

But go ahead, keep on believing you're an unstoppable force in the most competitive division in all of professional sports and ignore the Icarusian narrative this season is already scripting. You, of all people, should know that those never work out. Just don't be surprised if, come December, you're living out this all-too-familiar ending:

After a failed, last-ditch effort to reach the postseason, Bill Belichick will lop off your arm and claim that you and he are not very different from one another. (You even share some fans!) In fact, you are his flesh and blood.

"No, that's impossible!" you'll scream into the vacuum of space.

Oh, but it is most certainly possible. And know this, friends, there will be no Lando Calrissian, no Millenium Falcon to swoop in and carry you into January. It'll just be you and your lightsaber-cauterized stump, dangling in the gaseous Bespin atmosphere and waiting for training camp next summer.

With love,
espnthemag.com