So now The Kid had been bloodied, bruised, knocked down, welcomed to the NFL. Daniel Jones had thrown two interceptions, both to Quinton Dunbar, on consecutive throws in the second quarter.
At that moment, as he clapped his hands together in my-bad acknowledgment, then headed to the sideline, he looked every bit the rookie, looked the way Eli Manning looked before he grew up to become Eli Manning.
MetLife Stadium, delirious in the early stages of Daniel Jones’ first home start, seemed either shell-shocked or deflated or both.
How could this have happened to our savior?