It has now been over 24 hours since Super Sunday, so by now you are probably aware that, in between the M.I.A. bird-flip and the sadly sub-par commercials, there was actually a football game between the New York Giants and the New England Patriots.

 

And, from a relatively neutral perspective, it was … decent. There were moments: the penalty-induced safety on Tom Brady’s first pass, the fumbles the Patriots couldn’t recover, the iconic Manning-to-Manningham connection on the final drive and, of course, the most awkward Super Bowl-winning touchdown of all time, courtesy of Ahmad Bradshaw. Plus, the game did come down to the final moments, which is, in many ways, all you can ask for from any football game.

 

Then again, it wasn’t exactly the most thrilling game. Unless you are a diehard fan of the Giants or Patriots, or someone who bet a large amount of money on the game, you probably can’t remember much that happened between the opening safety and the last five minutes of the game. Except maybe the new Volkswagen Star Wars ad.

 

As a stats nut, I love dissecting box scores, but this one is fairly dull as big-game scorelines go. There was only one turnover (which was the equivalent of a punt anyway), only one player with more than 73 yards rushing or receiving and only one play of more than 24 yards (the aforementioned pass to Manningham).

 

The game’s MVP (Eli Manning) accounted for exactly one touchdown; the supposed best player in the game (Brady) looked off and missed some crucial throws. The supposed genius coach (Bill Belichick) wasted a timeout on a dumb challenge, and the most talked-about and prolific pass-catchers (Rob Gronkowski and Victor Cruz) had 51 receiving yards combined.

 

Yes, there were great plays and great performances, but even 24 hours later, it’s starting to be forgettable for me.

 

Yet if we ignore the Super Bowl, then we have to accept the reality that we have over 200 days until the next meaningful football game. And that is scary.

 

Perhaps it is because of this fear, or maybe it’s just the nature of sports media, but within .02 milliseconds of the final Hail Mary hitting the ground, you could hear the “legacy” whispers begin around the country. The first topic on everyone’s minds after running through the highlights seemed to be about the legacies of the players, coaches and teams involved.

 

If you’re the kind of person that only watches the occasional game and not the 400 hours of pre- and postgame coverage surrounding it, here’s a typical legacy debate: “After winning this game, does [insert winning team’s best player] now belong among the all-time greats?” “Well, he won [the game], so he is now definitely better than [insert historically famous player that everyone knows is better than the current player] because he won [the game].” “Is [insert winning coach] now a sure-fire Hall of Famer?” “Does this loss tarnish [insert losing team’s best player/coach]’s legacy?” “Yes, he can’t win the big one/No, he just didn’t have the weapons around him this year.”

 

You can tweak a word or two, but those templates can basically give you an entire daily sports show for the next two weeks. Just fill in Eli Manning, his second Super Bowl, Peyton Manning, Joe Namath, Dan Marino, Tom Coughlin, Bill Belichick and Tom Brady where appropriate.

 

By far the most popular question seems to be if Eli is an elite, surefire Hall of Famer. Brady and Belichick, as the World’s Perfect Player and World’s Perfect Coach, are immune from insult, and Coughlin is an old guy who won two Super Bowls when people thought he’d be fired. Go him. But what about Eli? Did he really put the “Eli” in “elite”?

 

The general consensus seems to be that he did. I’m fine with that. He won his second Super Bowl, and he was the MVP in both. That seems elite to me. What I can’t stand is that the conversation instantly goes to his legacy. A common refrain is “if he retired today, he’d go down as an all-time great and a definite Hall of Famer.”

 

No way. If Eli Manning retired today, he’d go down as a guy who was really good and then randomly retired at age 31. He’s played eight years. Let’s leave the legacy talk for when he’s actually done.

 

This is nothing against him. I don’t think it diminishes Eli at all to say that his legacy isn’t something to discuss right now. Merriam-Webster says that legacy is “something transmitted from the past.” Eli’s career, and that of his brother Peyton, Brady, Belichick, Coughlin and everyone else in that Super Bowl, is still going. Let’s save those discussions for when their careers actually are in the past.

 

Instead of talking about if Eli is now better than his brother Peyton, talk about how incredible his throw to Manningham was on that final drive. Instead of blaming the Patriots’ loss on everyone but Brady and Belichick, hold them accountable for not stepping up in the biggest game of the year. You can worry about how it’ll all look to future people when the future actually comes around.

 

 

Jacob Jaffe doesn’t worry about his legacy. Give him extra affirmation of his Hall of Fame status at jwjaffe “at” stanford.edu and follow him on Twitter @Jacob_Jaffe.