In the New York Giants playbook, the play goes by the name 76 Union Y Sail. After Eli Manning called it in the final two minutes of Super Bowl XLII last February, the New York tabloids came up with other titles for it: "The Great Escape," "The Hail Manning," "The Catch in the Hat." Some have called it the greatest play in Super Bowl history. How else do you describe it? It was the key play in the final drive in the sole victory over the dreaded New England Patriots, at 18-0, the winningest team in the history of professional football. David Tyree, the backup wide receiver who caught the pass — or, more accurately, wrestled it onto his helmet in midair — called it a divine moment. Manning, the franchise quarterback who threw it, was a little more levelheaded. "Hey," he later said, "we still had to score."

Before the play changed everything, Giants fans, who are typically loud, intense, profane, excitable, even rabid, loved to complain about Eli Manning, who is none of those things. But this can turn out to be a tremendous advantage in certain circumstances — say, third and five, ball on the Giants' 44, one minute and fifteen seconds left to play in the Super Bowl. Manning stepped into the shotgun, and he wasn't the least bit rattled. In fact, the score — trailing the Patriots by 14 to 10 — excited him, since it made it impossible to play conservatively and go for a field goal. He was free to do what he does so well: run the 20 or so precision plays that the Giants save for the last two minutes of close games, when they absolutely must score a touchdown.

For the Mannings, NFL quarterbacking is the family business, and upstairs in the University of Phoenix Stadium, the senior partners in the firm were following young Eli's progress on the field below. Archie, the father, had never had a single winning season in his 14-year career, mostly with the lowly New Orleans Saints. "I knew, if they could just hang in and be in the game in the last five minutes," he said, "something good could happen." Further down the luxury suite, his older brother Peyton, the Super Bowl MVP the previous year with the Indianapolis Colts, tried to calm himself by scanning the field, checking the coverage, and making his own well-informed guesses as Eli called the plays. "I was sort of playing the game up there a little bit," he admitted, "and watching the defense to see what was going on."

Eli liked the pass play he'd chosen, he says, because 76 Union Y Sail "has a lot of different answers. No matter what coverage, you have a shot." Three months later, in his newly renovated Hoboken apartment overlooking the Hudson, he runs through these options. His eyes dart from side to side as he speaks. "Tyree is to the right; he has a post route. Steve Smith is also on that side; he has a corner route." Once the play began, those two players would split off seven yards from the line of scrimmage, with Tyree branching off toward the goalposts and Smith toward the corner of the end zone, a pair of patterns that looks like a Y when it's drawn up on the playbook page. "'76' — that's the protection; it tells the offensive line who they're blocking." Manning won't offer any more specific details on that element of the play. " 'Union' is talking to Plaxico" — Burress, the eight-year veteran whose 11 catches for 154 yards against Green Bay in the NFC championship game helped land the Giants in the Super Bowl. "He's out wide left, with Amani Toomer in the slot. 'Union' tells them double in-breaking routes." These two would both run L-shaped routes, straight down the field and then in — a simple but effective move that often forces the defense into mistakes in coverage, like running into each other or following the wrong man. "Then 'Sail': That just tells Smith" — his primary receiver as the play began — "that we're going to sail."