From the start Justin Tuck always understood that it’s different here, both the possibilities and the responsibilities. Even early on, still feeling his way as a professional and as a New Yorker, you would see him working the town, learning it, understanding it.
Embracing it.
“I look at it as a blessing,” Tuck said of these nine years as a Giant, nine years when he was as accessible and approachable as any athlete in town, wrapping his arms around the city, allowing its embrace to make him whole. “To have this platform in the biggest city. To play for this team.”
There are a lot of questions surrounding what will become of this Giants team that played out the string with dignity Sunday afternoon, beating the hapless Redskins 20-6 and finishing 7-3 after starting 0-6, those numbers still adding up to a 7-9 record that nobody is especially proud of.
Tom Coughlin’s status must be addressed, and unless John Mara and general manager Jerry Reese decided to stray from a 90-year family playbook, it’s hard to imagine he won’t be back. The offensive line needs to be rebuilt. A hard decision awaits Hakeem Nicks. And a harder one awaits Justin Tuck.
Tuck wound up with some pretty good numbers this year, 11 sacks and a renewed presence as the defense’s emotional leader. But it can’t be ignored that six of those sacks came against Washington. And it can’t be forgotten that he was among the noticeable under-performers during that stretch of season when things got away from the Giants.
This is certain to be the latest reminder of just how cruel and cold the business of professional sports is, particularly the business of professional football. When Tuck has been at the top of his game, so have the Giants. They don’t come close to appearing in either Super Bowl since 2008 without him, let alone winning them. He is a forever Giant, and a likely addition to the team’s Ring of Honor on some distant Sunday afternoon.
And none of that matters now; none of that can matter, and that applies to both sides of the equation. There will be teams looking for precisely the skills Tuck still has to offer, and they will wave more money than the Giants. Football careers are too short to ignore whatever windfalls land in a player’s path.
The Giants? The Giants have holes to fill, they need to spread the cash around, and there may simply not be room for a player who turns 31 on March 29, who has logged a lot of miles in a young man’s game (playing a young man’s position). There is no room for emotion in the NFL, less for sentiment.
And Tuck understands. He was asked if he would be back next year, laughed at the directness of the question and — as a full-blooded New Yorker now despite pit stops in Rockford, Ala., and South Bend, Ind. — seemed to appreciate it.
“I really don’t know,” he said.
It will not only be a loss for the Giants if Tuck has to finish his career elsewhere, but for the city as well. So often we wonder — we obsess, really — if an athlete can make it in New York, if he even wants to make it here, if instead of embracing the red carpet and the velvet rope and all the doors opened because of them they recoil at the sheer size of it all.
Tuck decided he wanted to taste all of it. He hasn’t only been a regular at every area sports venue for years, at so many play and movie premieres, but he and his wife, Lauran, have been prominent in the charitable community as well, notably with R.U.S.H. for Literacy, which has helped encourage kids to read. Making it — and making it here — mattered to Tuck.
He made it. No matter where he plays next year, nothing changes that.
“I don’t want my mind to go there,” safety Antrel Rolle said. “He has a lot left and I think he displayed that once again today. He’s been phenomenal this entire season. He’s been a leader, he’s been our captain. I’m definitely looking forward to coming back and make another run at this thing next year.”
Maybe he will, maybe he won’t. If he doesn’t, this game — six tackles, two sacks, a forced fumble — won’t be a terrible way to say good-bye. Someone asked about the water visible on his face as he left the field.
“Rain,” he said, smiling.