HERE’S the thing Tiki Barber has yet to understand during his exciting new life as the all-seeing, all-knowing man behind the microphone at NBC: Eventually you have to answer for the things you say, the things you write and the observations you make.
This is what Tiki Barber reportedly has to say in his forthcoming book “Tiki: My Life in the Game and Beyond”:
“If Tom Coughlin had not remained as head coach of the Giants, I might still be in a Giants uniform. [Coughlin] robbed me of what had been one of the most important things I had in my life, which was the joy I felt playing football. I had lost that. He had taken it away.”
That’s pretty poignant stuff. It would be more so if not for the fact Barber made a very public and very indignant point of criticizing those among the media and Giants fans who questioned his motivations last year, when he took the most unusual step of leaking his planned retirement early in the year. And if that truly were the case, he had the opportunity during his exit interview to bury Coughlin and keep himself clad in blue last year. He didn’t.
No, Barber insisted at the time. His mind was already made up. His future was already planned. He had talked emotionally about walking onto the field at Philadelphia in week two, how he was missing his fire, how he hinted to his teammates he was done. So the question that needs to be asked now is this:
Was he lying to us then, or is he lying to us now?
At some point, it really would behoove Barber to get over himself and get past the idea the Giants organization is somehow still mourning his absence. He was one of the great running backs in the history of New York football. He was cheered from some corners – including this one – for walking away when he was on the top of his game. He deserves a bust in Canton someday. And for the most part, he handled himself with humility and grace away from the field.
But he really has to stop obsessing about the Giants. He has to understand there isn’t one Giants fan in creation who will shed one teardrop over this ridiculous notion that Barber cost himself $10 million in salary playing for the team, nor will even one Giants fan feel guilty for not understanding the pain and sacrifice players endure to suit up every Sunday, as he purportedly writes in his book.
You know whom Barber should start emulating? Phil Simms. All Simms did as a Giant was perform CPR on the franchise, win them their first Super Bowl, help put them in position to win a second. Then, in one of the most shocking examples of the cold-blooded business side of sports we’ve ever seen in New York, he was cut loose after leading the team to one final playoff berth in 1993. Yet in the 14 years since, Simms never has made a fraction of the public nuisance Barber has now made, and keeps making, even as Simms built a broadcasting career Barber, at this point, can only hope to aspire to.
But if you’ve seen Barber’s work before, this can’t surprise you. A few years ago, after that awful season-ending loss to the 49ers in January 2003, I wrote a column blaming Jim Fassel, Michael Strahan and Barber equally for that cataclysmic collapse. Fassel, being Fassel, shook it off. Strahan, being Strahan, went on the radio, ripped me right back, and added that Tiki had called him and said, “Yeah, I can’t believe the guy in The Post killed you, Michael.”
Tiki, being Tiki, left a long, rambling message on my voicemail that ended this way: “You know, I can understand you ripping Strahan, but why do you have to kill me?”
I kept that little tale out of the newspaper, because it seemed needlessly embarrassing. Only now, it’s obvious Barber will say just about anything to keep his name on the lips of his Big Blue public. And that he is eminently un-embarrass-able, especially as he keeps throwing different versions of his retirement story out there. He’s bound to get it right eventually.