My Life and Times

November 28, 2004
Stars Aren't Born: How to Make It Here, Not Just AnywhereBy LYNN ZINSER
AST RUTHERFORD, N.J., Nov. 26 - Eli Manning's head poked above a ring of television cameras crowded around his locker, the microphones pushed in close to capture his quiet, invariably modest words. It is an act, many of his Giants teammates say, because Manning is neither dull nor shy, but rather trying to temper the first rush of excitement that comes with being named a starting quarterback in New York.
Whether Manning abandons that impulse and rises from starter to true New York star will not be determined anytime soon. Those cameras may not always form a stampede to capture his every syllable. A stream of endorsements may not continue to rush in. Sightings of him at Manhattan night spots may not litter the society pages.
In other cities, athletes can be merely good at what they do to be considered stars, but in New York, it takes something else. There are plenty of successful athletes who could walk down Broadway in their uniforms without drawing so much as a double take.
"They have to be confident, bordering on cocky," said Peter Land, general manager for sports and sponsorship at Edelman Public Relations in Manhattan. "Humility and modesty are ingredients that might work in other cities, but they are not words to describe New York or New Yorkers."
Land included Derek Jeter, Mark Messier, Latrell Sprewell and Jimmy Connors on his list of athletes truly embraced by New York. They are the kind of people who predict success, who project invincibility. It does not matter where they come from or what sport they play.
"People here can respect quality performances, but they fall in love with athletes like that," Land said.
The process of becoming a star here is not a simple one. Many athletes retreat from it altogether, guarding their personalities and avoiding the public. They fade into the cast of thousands making up New York's sports scene.
And then there are people like Giants defensive end Michael Strahan, who even though out for the season because of an injury, can spawn chaos at a charity appearance. As he led a group of local children through the aisles of a Hoboken, N.J., supermarket this week on a shopping trip for Thanksgiving dinner, security guards scurried to keep order while surprised shoppers scrambled to take pictures of Strahan's famous gap-toothed smile.
"You never get used to creating any kind of stir, people wanting you to sign stuff, and you pull up in your car and people are pointing at you," Strahan said. "I always said it beats the alternative of being the one on the team that no one knows anything about. I've been in that situation, and I prefer just the way it is right now."
In his 12 years as a Giant, Strahan has become one of the faces of New York sports. He attracts cameras like a magnet, eagerly giving his time for television appearances and charity work. This week, MasterCard shuttled him through a day of interviews packed around a Thanksgiving dinner he helped organize for 100 children. The smile never waned.
"I think New York is the greatest city in the world," Strahan said. "The people understand it's very difficult to do well here, but when you do well, you're almost looked at like a survivor, somebody who passed their test. If you can pass the test of everybody here in New York, you can pass it anywhere and you become the love of the city."
What Manning is experiencing is the first rush that comes with a high-profile entrance as the No. 1 draft pick. When the Giants traded for him on draft day, 3,500 showed up at Giants Stadium to welcome him. His jersey became one of the hottest sellers in the N.F.L. Now, as a starter, a new wave of attention has engulfed him.
"That's New York," Giants running back Tiki Barber said. "New York blindly will embrace you, without any conception of how good or bad you are. But in that same breath, they will stomp on you.
"That's hard to deal with."
Barber spoke from experience, having heard his name chanted in Giants Stadium during a fabulous rookie year in 1997 as well as the boos when he struggled in coming back from injuries. Barber said he saw the same thing happening to tight end Jeremy Shockey, whose crowd-pleasing arrival in 2002 turned Giants Stadium into a sea of No. 80 jerseys. Shockey's emotional on-field style enchanted the fans, and his glamorous social life added to the allure.
"Coach Pope told me a couple things before I even played a snap," Shockey said of the Giants' tight ends coach, Mike Pope. "Right when they drafted me, he said they were making thousands of jerseys of yours right now and you're going to be a star. But he said no matter how big you get, you can't forget how hard you worked to get here.
"When he was telling me that, I thought, 'No way.' "
But that is exactly what happened, and now Shockey is enduring the flip side. Injuries have hindered him the past two seasons, and his dropped passes have begun to be greeted by jeers.
Barber said he learned not to hide during the tough times. He did not curtail his appearances.
"You have to learn how to deal with the roller-coaster while at the same time show class, show accountability, because people care about those things," he said. "I think it's often more important how you respond to adversity that people respect more than how you respond to triumph."
Barber did not truly crack the top level of stardom until 2000, the season the Giants last reached the Super Bowl. That was how he, along with Strahan, passed the final test. They survived. They became the toast of the town.
Winning is a key ingredient for stardom. It is impossible to remove the four World Series championships from the formula that is Jeter's popularity.
"I'm not sure Joe Namath becomes Broadway Joe if the Jets hadn't won that Super Bowl," Land said. "It's confidence backed up that counts."
It is the difference between the Knicks legends Willis Reed and Patrick Ewing. One won championships and seemed to envelop the city in the warmth of his personality. The other failed to win and battled the pressure to share himself with the public for his entire career.
Athletes who shy away from New York's demands and complications do not enjoy New York's embrace. It furthers their cause if they become men about town, as Jeter and Shockey have, seen in places with the celebrity crowd. A little of that goes a long way. Shockey, for instance, says he largely avoids the party scene now, but his reputation has not faded.
"You could go out every night and do something in the city," Shockey said. "But the city, you can never get the best of it. It will always get the best of you."
At the heart of New York's stars is an X factor, a personality that New Yorkers can love. Surly, uncooperative and aloof do not sell here. Neither, generally, does modesty.
"I don't think any of us are boring," Strahan said of star athletes. "You never know quite what we're going to say."
Manning has shown signs that he can flourish here. He agreed to a regular radio spot before becoming a starter. He did some predraft commercials poking fun at his demand not to play for San Diego and a MasterCard spot with Strahan.
But New York's true stars are not anointed. They are put through a rigorous selection process. For Manning, it has only just begun.
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