There was no Super Bowl on the line last night for Matt Simms, the way it was on the line for Phil Simms on the evening of January 25, 1987 in Pasadena, 20 months before Matt was born. But make no mistake, this was Matt Simms’ Pasadena.
Simms’ chance to fulfill a boyhood dream. Simms’ chance to show Rex Ryan and John Idzik that he belongs with an NFL team. Their NFL team.
And when it was over, after Simms had stopped slinging the ball all over the lot, after he made it look like he was back at Don Bosco Prep, after he played all of Jets 27, Eagles 20, he had made his case.
He was by no means his father in Pasadena against the Broncos in Super Bowl XXI against the Broncos, that 22-for-25 night that etched his name into Giants lore forever.
He was good enough to be the third quarterback behind Mark Sanchez and Geno Smith, or Geno Smith and Mark Sanchez.
Good enough to be Smith’s backup on Opening Day against the Bucs, presuming that Sanchez’s bruised shoulder joint disables him. He was 33-for-44 for 285 yards good.
Everyone loves Greg McElroy’s smarts, and his intangibles. But you find yourself asking the essential question Phil Simms always asks when he evaluates a quarterback: Can he throw it?
Matt Simms happens to throw it better than McElroy, better than Sanchez, right up there with Smith, who was only considered the best college quarterback in the draft. His mother was at the game, his father watching on television from home. Young Simms had gotten a pep talk from the old man earlier in the day.
“Just the same old dad speech — do good, play hard and represent well,” young Simms said.
He represented well.
It was, as Bill Parcells would say, a little less than perfect. There was the intentional grounding under pressure in the end zone for a safety on his first series, after an impressive linebacker named Chris McCoy had dropped into coverage and young Simms threw him a gift that he dropped.
There was a Sanchezesque failure to get at least a field goal before the half when, on the 11 with 14 seconds left, young Simms, having burned his last timeout, was stripped by Everette Brown, and could not get off another play.
“I just held onto the ball for too long,” young Simms said.
He was asked what offensive coordinator Marty Mornhinweg had told him on the sideline.
“He just said, ‘That’s really bad, and you need to know better,’ and he’s right,” young Simms said.
The word he used was “bad?”
“Something along those lines, yes,” young Simms said, and smiled.
But there was also this:
Young Simms taking a licking and keeping on ticking, exactly the way his father always did, after seven first-half sacks.
Young Simms whistling missiles through the night air on out patterns.
Young Simms hooking up with fellow Jersey Guy Ryan Spadola time and time again, this time for 29 yards.
Young Simms connecting on a 41-yard catch-and-run with Michael Campbell.
Young Simms flushed right, hitting Khalil Bell for 10 yards.
Young Simms commanding his huddle, functioning like a professional quarterback, acting like he had been there before.
Young Simms scrambling quicker than his old man ever did for six yards on third-and-7, then rolling right off play-action and finding fellow Jersey Guy Chris Pantale for three yards and the first down.
Young Simms pumping his right fist in the air after Bell capped the game-winning TD drive with a two-yard run.
Young Simms hitting Zach Rogers in stride deep downfield, only to watch Rogers let it go through his hands.
No touchdown passes. But no Pick 6s. No Buttfumbles.
“I laid it all on the line, and we’ll see where that takes me,” young Simms said.
This wasn’t the Super Bowl. It wasn’t the old Giants Stadium. Only a preseason game at MetLife Stadium at the end of August.
Only Matt Simms’ Pasadena.
“I’m happy being a Jet,” young Simms said.