Like the rest of America, I awoke Monday morning still trying to grasp the reality of the New York Giants’ 17-14 upset of the invincible New England Patriots in Super Bowl XLII. And, like most of America, reality still seems fake, as though the memory of Sunday’s classic showdown were merely a delusion covering what must have happened – namely, the ascension of the 2007 New England Patriots into the pantheon of all-time great teams. Sunday was supposed to be about the coronation of the Patriots, a team that had been pegged as the odds-on favorite to win the 42nd Super Bowl almost as soon as the 41st was finished. When the Pats acquired linebacker Adalius Thomas and wide receivers Wes Welker and Randy Moss in the offseason, New England seemed to announce its intention to not only win the Super Bowl but also to stake an unambiguous claim for Greatest of All Time. After winning their first 18 games, that title was New England’s for the taking. Yet, in a game to whose discussion and dissection I can add little, the Giants – the fifth seed in the lowly NFC – managed what no other team could and vanquished the juggernaut. Of course, when discussing stunning upsets – especially in football – it is common to attribute them to one individual. Recall the Patriots’ first Super Bowl win in 2002 over the heavily favored Rams, which heralded the emergence of Tom Brady as America’s Boy Wonder. Or consider the legend of Broadway Joe Namath, born in 1969 with a cocky guarantee and a single index finger waving at the crowd, reminding everybody that his Jets, and not the seemingly unbeatable Baltimore Colts, were kings of the mountain. What happened Sunday will prove to be no exception, though the central figure in question may not be the equal of Brady or Namath. When the story of Super Bowl XLII is written and the ink has dried, it will almost certainly be remembered as the Eli Manning Bowl. I can scarcely believe that I just wrote that. That Eli Manning has somehow achieved football immortality is a fact no less shocking to the sports nation than if the United States were to wake up and discover that Ron Paul had become president. Eli Manning has always been a figure of public pity at best and public scorn at worst. Perpetually stuck in the shadow of his much more talented older brother Peyton, the younger Manning had never seemed comfortable in his own skin – though with his boyish face and jug-handle ears, who would be? After a decent, though by no means stellar, career at the University of Mississippi, Manning became the first pick in the 2004 NFL Draft, an honor few – including myself – felt he deserved. To make matters worse, Manning publicly despaired over his lamentable fate of having to play in San Diego, pining for a chance in the bright lights of New York – leading to the unforgettable image of Manning holding up a Chargers jersey on draft day with a look on his face akin to that of a toddler who has just soiled his diaper. The first few years of the Eli Manning experience were an exercise in schadenfreude for non-Giants fans, as Peyton’s kid brother was kicked around the gridiron wearing a look of confusion and frustration. That his statistics had improved slightly over the past few seasons meant little to his detractors; at best, he had achieved mediocrity while at worst, he was a blemish on the Manning family name. All this merely made a perfect foil for Manning’s performance Sunday night – for if Peyton struggled against the mighty Patriots, surely Eli would be swamped. Instead, the younger Manning shone. At times, he even looked comfortable playing in the biggest game against the best team. His two touchdown passes and one interception may not be jaw-dropping – though still better than Joe Namath’s performance in Super Bowl III – but he added to the library of holy-crap-did-you-see-that plays in Super Bowl history when, in the fourth quarter, he somehow evaded four Patriots tacklers and heaved a pass that was improbably caught by David Tyree. It was one of those plays – like Montana to Taylor – that transform quarterbacks into legends, and it came from the same man who hadn’t won a single postseason game at the start of the season. Of course, it would be entirely unfair to Joe Montana to compare him to Eli Manning, and it’s worth noting that the list of Super Bowl-winning signal-callers includes Mark Rypien and Trent Dilfer. Yet there’s still something different about Eli Manning. For his entire NFL career – and most of his adult life – Eli had seemed like a man who, in Shakespeare’s phrase, had greatness thrust upon him by dint of his last name. If only for 60 minutes on Sunday night, it was greatness he truly deserved. Brendan Roach is a sophomore in the School of Foreign Service. He can be reached at roachthehoya.com. THE LOSING STREAK appears every other Tuesday in HOYA SPORTS.