I know, I know. In a week filled with so much Super Bowl coverage that Heath Ledger’s death is almost an afterthought, the last thing I should write about is my beloved New York Giants.

But stop for a minute and think about five months ago. Think of the G-Men then.

Aug. 19, 2007: Tiki Barber, the Giants’ recently-retired star running back, says quarterback Eli Manning is “uncomfortable” with leadership and lacks the guts necessary to direct the offense. Ten days later, defensive leader Michael Strahan says he still hasn’t decided whether to rejoin the team before the season starts.

At this point, my fellow New Yorkers couldn’t wait to jump off of Big Blue’s bandwagon. Pundits were picking the team to finish last in the NFC East, and the New York Post was running headline after headline mocking the Giants.

The pessimism spread to my family. My dad, who has been a diehard fan since 1956, predicted a 4-12 season and said he would be “ecstatic” with 8-8.

The naysayers only grew louder after the team lost its first two games; indeed, sportscasters were already eulogizing the Giants’ season. Even after the team won six straight and Chris Berman started calling them the “GEEEEEE-MEN” again, Eli’s inconsistent play kept the critics in business and kept me tearing my hair out.

The rest of the season grew increasingly frustrating. Each week, we (from here on I’ll become a nauseating fan and use the first person to describe the team) would show flashes of our true potential. Each week we would inevitably screw it up.

Fast-forward to Dec. 29. Although we had eased into the playoffs the week before, everyone still expected Eli to do his best Johnny Chase impression come wild-card weekend and lead the team to defeat. Plus, the Patriots were coming to town, and a demoralizing blowout was anticipated.

I was at a play for the first half of the game and didn’t even bother to check the score at intermission (who wants to see the words ‘Patriots 35, Giants 0’?). On the way home from the theater, I happened to glance in the window of a bar and saw “Giants 28, Patriots 16,” flash across the screen.

I was in shock. Really? We can hang with them?? We might BEAT them?!?

Disbelief quickly turned to giddiness, which endured despite the G-Men’s fourth-quarter collapse. Their effort left New York City buzzing the next day, as even my ever-cynical deli manager said that if we could come so close against the 16-0 Pats, we could take the NFC.

The next three weeks were a gut-wrenching, teeth-grinding, euphoric blur. By the time Lawrence Tynes became the most vindicated man in America and sent my Giants to the Super Bowl, I barely had the energy to stop shaking and celebrate.

I think the stress has taken about 10 years off my life. But it is totally worth it.

So here we are. The same pundits who once panned the Giants are calling them a team of destiny. Eli has finally become a man. And my dad is raving about a team he once hated.

Does this mean we can topple the Patriots? Maybe. They are 18-0 for a reason. But anyone who thinks this Super Bowl is a foregone conclusion should look at where the Giants stood before the season and where they are now.