For former Giant Eli Manning, it's the anniversary of his stunning demotion
Eli Manning #10 of the New York Giants throws a pass against the Buffalo Bills at MetLife Stadium on Sunday, Sep. 15, 2019 in East Rutherford, New Jersey. Credit: Jim McIsaac
Eli Manning is about to embark on a second straight winter in which he and his legacy will be poked at, dissected and jerked around. It’s nothing like what he went through exactly eight years ago, though, the nadir of the roughest few days of his Giants career.
Yes, Friday is the anniversary of the day Manning and the Giants announced he was going to be benched for Geno Smith.
We’ll get back to that. First, the relatively good news for him . . . and the tumult that is to come.
Earlier this week, Manning was named one of the 26 modern-era semifinalists for induction into the Pro Football Hall of Fame’s Class of 2026. The finalists will be named before the end of this calendar year.
Manning was a finalist last year in his first season of eligibility but did not receive enough votes to secure that status again this season, so he’ll have to wait and see how far he advances this time.
He probably won’t get in. Not this year. The ballot is too crowded.
Unlike last year, this field also includes newcomers Drew Brees, Larry Fitzgerald and Frank Gore to push Manning even further away from the gold jacket finish line.
Next year looks pretty bleak for him, too, when Ben Roethlisberger, Rob Gronkowski and Adrian Peterson become eligible.
Maybe 2028? Good luck getting past Tom Brady and J.J. Watt.
Manning, undoubtedly admired and unparalleled in admiration here as a two-time Super Bowl MVP who still remains the face of the franchise more than five years after he retired, may have to be dragged through this selection process for many years to come. And even then he might not get it.
He eventually could wind up in the Hall of Fringe, a place for players who are just on the cusp of having their busts in Canton. Someone has to be the best player not in the Hall of Fame, and it might wind up being Manning for a while.
For many years, Harry Carson lived there, too. His annually failed candidacies got to be so excruciating for him that he asked to be removed from consideration in 2004 . . . two years before he was selected for enshrinement in the Class of 2006.
Manning probably won’t get to that point. He cheerfully accepted his lack of support as a finalist last season and seems content (and busy) with his post-playing life these days.
He’s still the biggest star in New York football, a throne Joe Namath sat on for decades but has ceded as he has become less of a public presence. Manning, by contrast, is everywhere. He is inescapable. Having his career achievements validated by a group of electors likely is the least of his worries.
Hall of Famer or not, Manning probably doesn’t care. It’d be nice but isn't necessary for him.
Besides, by this point, he should be somewhat used to having his legacy jostled and dissected and downplayed the way the Hall process does now.
Dec 3, 2017; Oakland, CA, USA; New York Giants quarterback Eli Manning (10) watches action from the sideline against the Oakland Raiders in the first quarter at Oakland Coliseum. Mandatory Credit: Cary Edmondson-USA TODAY Sports Credit: Cary Edmondson-USA TODAY Sports/Cary Edmondson
The first time that happened to him, eight years ago this week, he was not.
On Nov. 27, 2017, coach Ben McAdoo met privately with Manning, told him he would start that week’s game against the Raiders to keep his consecutive-game streak alive but added that Smith likely would replace him at some point in the contest.
Manning asked for the night to contemplate that news and then came to work on the morning of Nov. 28 to tell Smith, rookie quarterback Davis Webb, McAdoo and eventually the world that he did not want to start a game he was not expected to finish.
“You’ll start to the half,” Manning said that day. “What’s the next week? A quarter? A series? That’s not fair. Not fair to me, not fair to Geno. That’s not how you play. You play to win . . . I didn’t feel that was the right way to play.”
So the Giants benched Manning. McAdoo benched Manning. Manning benched Manning.
They’re all correct, yet none tells the complete story.
However you want to say it, Manning did not play the following Sunday.
There were two times in his 16 seasons that the usually stoic Manning could not contain his emotions in the team’s facility.
The first was at Tom Coughlin’s final news conference the day he and the Giants “parted ways” at the end of the 2015 season. “Eli, it’s not you,” Coughlin said, absolving his teary-eyed quarterback and his play from having a role in his departure.
The second was when Manning addressed reporters shortly after his 2017 demotion was announced in a news release that morning.
“I don’t like it,” Manning said while choking up, “but it’s part of football. You handle it. I’ll do my job . . . It’s been a hard day.”
Looking back at that day, there are some things that stand out. One was Manning saying he didn’t know what to expect during that season because the team’s record, 2-9 at the time, was “uncharted territory.” These days 2-9 feels routine.
Manning was asked if he thought he would ever start again for the Giants.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ll take it one week at a time.”
The following week, he was back as the starter. McAdoo, however, was not back. He and general manager Jerry Reese were fired the day after the loss to the Raiders.
By the time Manning was replaced a second time, by rookie Daniel Jones in 2019, he was at a far different place in his career. Manning still had a few gems left to deliver, including his last appearance in a win over the Dolphins later in that season, but he knew his time had come to an end.
When he retired in January 2020, Manning said one of the things he was most proud of was having never missed a start because of injury. He was always there for his teammates. Always available, even if he wasn’t always put to use.
When he stood at his locker that day in 2017, Manning was asked if the decision to play Smith made sense to him.
“I don’t have to make sense of it,” he said. “This is what it is. I have to deal with it.”
Eight years later, he can apply the same logic he learned to utilize then to grapple with his current standing among Hall of Fame voters. Just like back then, his job isn’t to make sense of it. He just has to deal with it.
He’s clearly gotten better at that.
