INDIANAPOLIS - You can only wonder what was spinning through Eli Manning's mind that Sunday afternoon not that long ago, his expression so very glum and pensive.
It was a week before Christmas and Manning's Giants fell 23-10. At home. To the lowly Redskins. Without scoring a touchdown until the final minute.
Manning was outdueled by Rex Grossman. His Giants were 7-7. His oft-blasted coach Tom Coughlin was again being shoved toward the guillotine.
Forty-nine days remained before Super Bowl XLVI, and not a single expert envisioned these Giants anywhere near Indianapolis.
The day after that faceplant, the Giants' play was labeled shameful and embarrassing.
Wrote New York Post columnist Steve Serby: "If this is the clueless, heartless, uninspired product the Giants give their 12th Man, if the 11 men on the field with their season on the line make the Redskins resemble the best of the Joe Gibbs Era, then Santa should feel compelled to slide down Tom Coughlin's chimney with a pink slip."
The boos at MetLife Stadium cut deep. Manning seemed flustered.
So how in the world did we get from there to Sunday night, not even two months later, with the Giants quarterback standing in a futuristic pod near midfield of Lucas Oil Stadium collecting the Lombardi Trophy?