NFL

Eli Manning Is Better Than Tony Romo, Due In Large Part To His Incredible Social Awkwardness

What’s most surprising about the Eli Manning vs. Tony Romo debate—a debate which was sparked by former Giant Amani Toomer, who kept alive the proud tradition of Eli’s former teammates throwing him under the bus—is that Romo actually is better. Statistically.

Matthew J. Darnell does a great job of breaking down the Eli vs. Romo debate over at Yahoo’s Shutdown Corner blog, and here were the most noteworthy numbers.

2.02

The percentage of Tony Romo’s passes, over the last three years, that have been picked off. Eli gets picked off 3.36 percent of the time.

65.45

Tony Romo’s completion percentage over the last three years. Manning’s is 62.00 percent.

99.14

Romo’s quarterback rating. Eli’s? 90.45.

As you can see, those are some pretty convincing stats.

The number that Eli backers will point to immediately, of course, is “2.” That’s the number of Super Bowls that Manning has won, compared to the zero that Tony Romo has under his belt. Indeed, if you’re going by postseason success (and win-loss in general), Manning is the better quarterback: he’s won eight playoff games, compared to Romo’s one.

But team-based stats aren’t enough to go on here if you really want to defend Eli Manning. Football is perhaps the team-iest team sport there is, and more than any other game we play (and watch), on-field success is a result of every member of the team doing his part. Unlike in basketball, where a single player has a more direct impact on a win or a loss (and there are only ten people playing at once), football has more moving parts (22 in total) that have an impact on any given play. So don’t go to Eli’s win-loss record if you want to defend him, because he’s only a small part of that on-field success—the most important small part, since he’s the quarterback. But a small part nonetheless.

No, to correctly defend Eli Manning, you’ve got to go to his fourth-quarter comebacks. That’s where his covert ballsiness — his most valuable asset as a quarterback — truly shines. If you look at those numbers, and sprinkle in a little armchair psychology, what you’ll find is that he’s brilliantly, awkwardly clutch.

First, let’s look at three important numbers. We’ll get to how his awkwardness fits in here in a second.

21 and 2.

The amount of fourth-quarter comebacks and game-winning drives, respectively, that Eli Manning has engineered. Romo has 13 fourth-quarter comebacks.

4

The number of those comebacks that have come against the Cowboys (including one last season that sparked the Giants’ Super Bowl run). Romo has only one against the Giants.

Where does this come from?

I have a friend who doesn’t watch sports and works as a caterer at events in New York City. His lasting impression of the Giants’ quarterback, after watching him stand in the same spot for an hour at a gala shortly after the team’s 2012 Super Bowl win: “He had the same doofy look on his face the whole time.” (He showed me a photo from his cell phone, and yes, the look was pretty much this one. Eli wore it for the entire hour he was there.)

But that same trait that makes him somewhat oblivious at a fancypants cocktail party—the one that made him an easy target for the New York tabloids in his first few interception-laden years, and the one that makes it easy for former teammates to pick on him—is what allows him to shut off his brain in the fourth quarter of big games.

For further proof of Eli’s Apparent Obliviousness To Everything, here’s a story relayed by his brother, Cooper, in 2008.

“Let me give you an idea about how Eli is. Last season, he was about to play a game that started at 7. Right before my parents left for his game, the telephone rang. It was Eli and he said, `Dad, tell mom to tape Seinfeld for me so I can watch it later tonight.’ My dad almost had a heart attack. An hour before kickoff and Eli was worried about taping Seinfeld.

Oblivious. Terrifically, fantastically oblivious.

—–

Essentially, you’ve got two type of career arcs here.

One arc looks like this: good statistical output in the regular season (spread across multiple seasons), with some okay statistical output in the post-season. You look like a quarterback, date like a quarterback, and play like a quarterback, but you’ve only won one big game at the pro level. Your narrative, summed up, as of now: talented. Smooth. Not clutch.

The other arc looks like this: inconsistent regular season play that is trending up, and very good statistical output in the post-season. You do not look like a quarterback, you are already married, and you are sometimes inconsistent, but you’ve won eight big games at the pro level. Your narrative, summed up, as of now: talented. Goofy. Very clutch.

Which career would you rather have?

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