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Tuesday, September 19
New York loves a winner

By Brian Murphy
Special to ESPN.com

I love New York.

I really do. Even as I am writing this, I am wearing an "I (HEART SHAPE) NY" T-shirt. It's adorable, if a few sizes too small. And never mind the Guinness stain. Or is that hot fudge?


	Tiki Barber has the Giants in the running for the NFC East title.

Anyway, I love New York. That's my point. I love Eritrean cab drivers who flip the bird with the best. I love paying $259 per night for a broom closet to sleep in. I love that Bernadette Peters (hubba hubba!) or Isaac Hayes (damn right!) or Beverly Sills (so high-brow!) or Joe Torre (simply the best) gently reminds me to buckle up when I take a taxi ride.

I love to pay $4 for a bottle of water. (Forget the tap water, chunky-style). I love to drink -- not bottled water -- until sunrise. I love New York Post headlines ("TURKEY" for a blown Turk Wendell save or "MARV GETS HIS PINK SLIP" when the cross-dressing tendencies of Marvelous Mr. Albert became public). I love Bob Sheppard's voice at Yankee Stadium. In fact, I want Bob Sheppard's voice to follow me wherever I go. "Now drinking his ill-advised ninth beer of the day," he would intone in that Voice of God, "Brian ... Murphy."

So you know where this is going. I love the Giants. I love the Jets. I love unbeaten teams in the Big Apple.

I love them, even if I had no care for the G-men prior to Sunday. After all, they took out my Eagles, my beautiful Birds in Week 2. (By the way, if you see me anywhere near that Philly bandwagon again, that Shamemobile, do me a favor. Punch me in the face.)

I love a town that is riding two washed-up quarterbacks to glory. I love the two most unbelievably low-profile head coaches in the highest-profile city in the world. (Where's Tuna when you need him?) I love the old-school feel of the Giants retro unis, and that they answer their phone "New York football Giants" even 42 years after baseball's Giants moved West. I love looking at Jets unis and thinking Namath in a fur coat.

I love any team that makes me think of Sinatra.

So this week's List of Five is dedicated to the city that never sleeps, to little-town blues that are melting away. We look around Week 3 and see a List of Five -- of those who can make it there, those who can make it anywhere and -- of course -- those who cannot.

1. Chris Gardocki Can Make It There.
The Browns punter, man! What cajones on this guy. He absorbs one of the all-time cheap shots, a de-cleater from a Pittsburgh special teamser named Joey Porter, a totally uncalled for blast of a wimpy little punter. So Gardocki's down, he's moaning, he's hurting, he gets up and he flies the bird at the Steelers bench! Make it in New York? Hell, this guy could drive a cab in New York! But don't get too excited Browns fans. That thyroid case in the dog mask? He couldn't make it in New York, guys. No chance. Maybe Jersey. But not New York.

2. Bruce Coslet Can't Make It There.
Gotham tolerates losers like Coslet like they tolerate something on the bottom of their shoe. This guy would get elbowed out of a crowded subway in an instant. He'd buy a fake Rolex for Rolex prices. He'd play the shell game in Times Square (or what used to be Times Square, pre-Disney) and he'd be hitchiking home wearing a barrel. For the love of Rich Kotite, man, how does this guy still have a gig?

3. Joe Nedney and Mike Shanahan Can Make It There.
You know these guys are honorary New Yorkers, because you know those two were dropping F-bombs all over Raider Al and the Commitment to Moving silver-and-blackers in pregame meetings, at halftime and after yet another Broncos romp through Oakland. You know Shanahan's the kind of guy who, if bumped into on a street corner, goes Travis Bickle: "You talking to me? You talking to me? You seen my mother (bleep)ing game plan? I will carve you up!" He's right. And Nedney. The guy boots Oakland to a season-ending win in K.C. last year, then gets the brunt of the stupidest draft decision since the Warriors took Chris Washburn. What does Nedney do? Hook up with the rival and kick Oakland's butt into submission. That kind of stuff plays real well in New York. Hell, Nedney might get a job offer from George Steinbrenner soon.

4. Tony Banks Cannot Make It There.
To borrow a line from my buddy with whom I watched that Sunday night debacle: Hey, when did Tony Banks turn into Tony Banks? It reminded me of the old W.C. Fields classic, when he ducked into the fridge, pulled out his "pineapple juice" then spat it out angrily: "Heyyyy," Fields said, "who put the pineapple juice into my pineapple juice?" If water seeks its own level, so does Tony Banks. You think his fumbling, drive-proof act would play in New York? Shoot, man, that'd be like asking Gotham to embrace an all-time bust like Kerry Collins.

Uh, never mind.

5. Finally, Philly Cannot Make It There.
There's a reason Vinny from Philly hates New York. There's a reason the cheesesteaks come with a side of venom. There's a reason why the Amtrak goes straight from New York to D.C., and if you want out in Philly, you better barrel roll out at 90 mph. 'Cause, my Philly friends, it'll never be New York. At least not this season. Looks like the Birds are down, the G-men are up, and it's another season of pain in Philly.

Just a win few, boys. Then I'll be back.

And now, a quick look ahead to Week 4:
1. 49ers at Cowboys: Dude, game of the week? Hell, game of the year! This is for NFC supremacy, the unofficial Super Bowl, the clash of the titans. Aw, dammit. That's my 1994 material. Gotta fire that writer.

2. Jets at Bucs: Do us all a favor. Put Keyshawn in the straitjacket now. Guy's gonna go Hannibal Lecter on somebody otherwise.

3. Browns at Raiders: If Gardocki flies the bird at the "Black Hole," he better watch out. Those Raiders fans might actually mail him an application to join their club.

Brian Murphy of the San Francisco Examiner writes a weekly "Tuesday Morning Quarterback" column for ESPN.com.

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