MIAMI — Out of uniform, raging as if his quarterback had just spent a few hours ignoring him, Jeremy Shockey marched into John Mara’s office and made his most demonstrative play as a Giant.
“I want to be traded,” the tight end barked.
If it wasn’t the first time Mara fielded this request, it would be the last.
But before he authorized his general manager, Jerry Reese, to deal Shockey to the New Orleans Saints for a couple of draft picks in summer 2008, Mara tried to reason with an unreasonable man.
“You’re our most popular player; the fans love you,” the team co-owner told Shockey. “We want to keep you a Giant. You’re going to be a big part of the offense next year.”
Mara might as well have been talking to a preschooler.
“No, I just can’t play here anymore,” Shockey told him. “I need a fresh start.”
So a fresh start was ripped from the Giants’ playbook and handed to a guy who didn’t deserve one. Shockey was Fed-Exed back to Sean Payton, his former offensive coordinator. It was widely assumed the tight end’s shipping papers were signed the instant he engaged in a minicamp shouting match with Reese.
“It wasn’t so much that,” Mara said Tuesday by phone, “as it was the fact Jeremy came into my office and asked to be traded. He repeatedly asked to be traded, and I tried to talk him out of it and told him he could still be a Giant.
“Jeremy didn’t listen and didn’t see it that way, and he was fairly animated about it. That’s when I knew there was no way of bringing him back.”
And here’s the shame of it: In Giants lore, Shockey could’ve been remembered on offense the way L.T. is remembered on defense. He was raw, emotional, absurdly talented and fully capable of stirring the fan base like no other star.
But just as clearly as Plaxico Burress destroyed his Giants’ career with a gun, Jeremy Shockey destroyed his with a .40-caliber attitude that forever served his three favorite teammates:
Me, Myself and I.
“I don’t really regret anything,” Shockey said of his six Giants seasons.
He doesn’t regret any of the stupid human tricks that compelled his employer to dump an in-his-prime, four-time Pro Bowler without even securing a first-round draft choice in return.
“It was just miscommunication,” Shockey said as his Saints prepared to play the Colts in Super Bowl XLIV.
No, his messages came through loud and clear during the Jim Fassel and Tom Coughlin administrations. Even a casual Giants’ fan knows the drill.
Shockey taunted fans, threw ice water on a kid and dropped a touchdown pass in that epic playoff meltdown in San Francisco. He made homophobic remarks. He declared his team had been outplayed “and outcoached” after a loss in Seattle.
He showed up Eli Manning by flailing his arms in the downfield air. He made Manning uncomfortable by throwing less-public tantrums when the game plans didn’t meet his expectations.
As a final scene for his tired act, Shockey disconnected himself from the Giants after they staged their charmed postseason run without him, after they realized Manning was more poised when paired with a less volatile tight end, after they declined Shockey’s request to stand on the Super Bowl XLII sidelines with his broken leg.
“For two years now I’ve been reading Jeremy was upset with that,” Mara said, “and yet we didn’t allow any of our injured players down there.
“A couple of guys ended up sneaking down, but we didn’t want them there because it was a safety issue. And Jeremy was the only injured player invited to watch the game in (co-owner) Steve Tisch’s luxury box, an invitation he gladly accepted.”
Told by a reporter that Phil Simms was on crutches on the sidelines during the Giants’ Super Bowl victory over Buffalo, Shockey interrupted with a question (“Was he on the sidelines, or was he in the press box?) and a wink.
Shockey didn’t fly with his fellow injured Giants to the Arizona desert. He made his own last-second plans and, in the wake of surgery, ended up in a middle seat in coach flanked by Patriots fans.
“They were glad I was hurt,” Shockey said.
He swore Tuesday he was thrilled the Giants were able to beat the unbeaten Patriots without him, a fantastic lie.
“Jeremy wanted to be in it,” Tiki Barber said, “and the fact that he wasn’t championed by the media and some of the fans, that hurts your pride to feel that way.”
The injured Shockey had texted the retired Barber after the Giants beat Green Bay for the NFC title, and told the running back, “You must be dying.”
Only Barber wasn’t the one dying. Asked if Shockey was hurt by the notion the Giants were better off without him, a notion Barber himself had to confront, the running back said, “I’m positive he was.”
Shockey and Barber were the two Giants the Maras called to Wellington’s bedside in the patriarch’s final hours, and Shockey said the deaths of Mara and Bob Tisch had a profound impact on his life. In fact, Shockey maintained that changes in ownership, the front office and the coaching staff altered the dynamics of his employment.
“It was just a tough situation,” he said.
Shockey didn’t help that situation any by failing to attend the Giants’ parade, failing to attend their trip to the White House and failing to show Reese the proper workplace respect.
Now Shockey has resurfaced in his college town, Miami, to play a Super Bowl with a bum knee. He’s wearing a new number (88) and the same old tattoos, and arrives as the other tight end in a one-sided matchup with the anti-Shockey, Dallas Clark, a friendly automaton.
“When we win this game,” Shockey said, choosing certainty over possibility, “I think it’s going to mean a lot to (New Orleans).”
Shockey conceded a victory over the Colts in Super Bowl XLIV would ease his Super Bowl XLII burdens and allow him to “maybe sleep a little bit more at night.”
So be it. But a triumph over Peyton Manning won’t repair Shockey’s time with Eli Manning, and won’t recover a Giants’ career he trashed with his own hands.
Shockey should still toss and turn over that.
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