"Right size, wrong shape" says Ken Harrelson, when a White Sox player hits a foul ball with home-run distance. When a Sox hitter knocked a fly ball just short of the fence, John Rooney used to say, "Another strip of bacon on his breakfast plate and that one's outta here." "Juuuuuuuust a bit outside," for Bob Uecker. "Threeeeeeeeee--nope" for Neil Funk.
A game of inches, they've said. For the New England Patriots, the game came down to six inches last night. It was not the six inches of indoor grass between the ball and Rob Gronkowski's fingertips, however.
No, six inches separated the Pats from their fourth Super Bowl victory. The six inches of white tape on Rob Gronkowski's left ankle.
A wounded giant...excuse me, Patriot
Allow me to channel Alfred Hitchcock for a moment.
Imagine, if you will, a healthy Rob Gronkowski. A beast of a man, quick, speedy, agile and able to catch about anything he can reach. A devastating tandem along with fellow tight end Aaron Hernandez, Rob Gronkowski frustrated linebackers and defensive backs all season...until he suffered a serious ankle injury in the AFC Championship game.
Suddenly, Gronk was slowed, chained, restrained. The high-ankle sprain limited his astounding mobility, turned him into a lumbering player. Gronkowski and the Patriots said all week that he would play in the Super Bowl, and when the time came, he came onto the field. But it was clear he wasn't the same. Gronkowski caught only two passes, and missed a chance to haul in the greatest of his career.
So close...
As Tom Brady looked to duplicate Eli Manning's desperation fling from four years earlier, the Patriot receivers hustled to the end zone. Aaron Hernandez arrived first and was the only man in the area who had a chance.
Rob Gronkowski, a hobbled Rob Gronkowski, was still about three yards away from the spot.
Hernandez and the Giants D-backs tip the ball in the air. Gronkowski runs and dives, but ends up short. About six inches short.
Football nation watched this year as Gronkowski made play after play this season, with his hands and his legs. He set records as a tight end for receiving yards and touchdowns. He was a leader in that vaunted Madden stat of "yards after catch".
Yet there he was, in the last moment of the first Super Bowl of his young career, coming up short.
Six inches of grass. Six inches of tape.
Does a healthy Rob Gronkowski, running full speed with maximum force on that ankle make that play?
Maybe he doesn't. Maybe he overruns the ball and is out of position. Maybe gets blocked out. Maybe he just misses it.
Or maybe he doesn't. Maybe a healthy Rob Gronkowski has more than two catches in the game. Maybe a healthy Rob Gronkowski makes Tom Brady even better and the Giants have to do more than score an easy touchdown with one minute to go.
Maybe a healthy Rob Gronkowski cradles that ball in his hands, and Tom Terrific doesn't turn into Tom Thumb on the bus ride back to the hotel.
Four years ago, the inches of David Tyree's fingertips gave the Giants all they needed. This time, the Giants got the break again.
A game of inches, indeed.
See you in the cheap seats.
JS
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