I digested his remark, while I demurred slightly with my reluctance to cast him as the “greatest” ever because of the advantageous nature of playing half his career in a dome, and contemplated it some more.

After further thought and a little research, I offer you my conclusion here.

This Sunday, in Super Bowl XLIV, Manning looks to capture his second championship.  If successful, he’ll join a quarterback class of multiple Super Bowl winners: Bart Starr, Bob Griese, Roger Staubach, Terry Bradshaw, Jim Plunkett, Joe Montana, Troy Aikman, John Elway, Tom Brady, and Ben Roethlisberger. 

Of course, holding multiple Super Bowl trophies doesn’t automatically grant a quarterback the title of “greatest of all time.”  If it did, Joe Montana and Terry Bradshaw, who each possess four Lombardi Trophies, would already be awarded this honor.  It is needed, however, as qualification for the conservation.

Regardless of the skills required to excel at the position, there are telling statistics that jump off the page when analyzing a quarterback.  Since all quarterbacks are made differently, comparisons using the standard metrics of touchdowns and interceptions, or even yards thrown, are hopeless endeavors. 

Instead, there are more indicative numbers that shall benefit our discussion. 

To begin with, because I raised the issue of Peyton Manning’s home field advantage, it would stand to reason that we should assess the other half of his career, as well as other Super Bowl winning quarterbacks, on the road.    

Here are the most notables. 

The first number represents each quarterback’s road winning percentage, followed by their playoff road record, then finally the number of road championship games they’ve won:

Montana—0.747, 2-4, 1
Brady—0.683, 2-3, 2
Manning—0.635, 2-4, 0
Roethlisberger—0.605, 3-0, 1
Bradshaw—0.500, 2-3, 1
Aikman—0.469, 2-4, 1
Elway—0.461, 3-3, 2

According to this measure, Manning doesn’t even crack the top two, especially because he’s yet to win a road championship game (he’s 0-1).  But these numbers do not tell the whole story.   

There are also the quarterback ratings for the same group, both home and away, which in some cases provide evidence of successful play, regardless of the outcome.   

They are as follows:

                       Home          Away
Manning            89.9          112.6
Roethlisberger    98.2          103.2
Montana           76.2           90.2
Brady              109.2           81.7
Elway              118.1           65.2
Aikman             90.8            36.5
Bradshaw          N/A            N/A

Judging by these numbers, Manning not only successfully orchestrates his offense at home, he marches them down the field to a tune of 23 more points on the road. 

But before we move on to the clinching statistic that will unveil our verdict, let’s appease those who desire the basics. 

Out of our seven quarterbacks being scrutinized, for their careers, Manning’s thrown 66 more TDs than second place Elway, almost 10,000 more yards than second place Montana, holds a point and a half higher completion percentage (64.8) than the rest of the pack, and leads everyone in QB rating with a 95.2. 

Nevertheless, the most convincing achievement is Manning’s ability to produce in the fourth quarter, both when trailing or tied. 

Manning’s QB rating when his Colts are trailing is a 109.9; when tied it’s a 108.8.  And although Joe Montana has the highest QB rating when his teams were tied (113.9), he had a 71.6 rating when they were trailing, which helps illustrate Manning’s worthiness. 

What’s more, even John Elway, who had a knack for leading two-minute-drive comebacks, posted a career 84.2 when his Broncos were behind.   

So in conclusion, it isn’t the fact that Peyton Manning can step up to the line, recognize the defense, and then call an appropriate play that makes him the leader at his position.  It’s that he executes and embodies the entire essence of what a quarterback is: intelligence, accuracy, arm strength, devotion to chemistry with teammates, and of course, an understanding of the defense.    

The Indianapolis Colts have won 12 games for seven consecutive seasons.  Whether they’re behind, tied, on the road or in a dome, they can always turn to their general—Peyton Manning.  

If he can seize his second Super Bowl on Sunday evening, he will become, at least for now, “the greatest of all time.” 

In 2007, I had a sports' dilemma of deciding between cheering for a historic witnessing of a Patriots' 19-0 season, or a hometown championship shocker for the New York Giants.  I chose the latter and was rewarded with one of the most memorable Super Bowls ever.

Now, just two years later, the 2009 New York Jets are officially vying for my fan hood, if only temporarily.  

Before I support my position, allow me to rebut any claim of "jumping on the bandwagon."  Because according to my definition, jumping on the bandwagon consists of pretending to understand forty years of disappointment.  

I shall not even begin to make such a naive stance. 

Instead, it's my belief that, as a fan, witnessing your team capture a championship is exhilarating and should be felt by all.  I'm not attempting to live vicariously through a Jets' Super Bowl victory; I only intend to pool my energies together with the diehards in the hopes of bringing something magical to their lives.  

As for the J-E-T-S, who have the unfortunate shared-occupancy lifestyle, there are many that have hatred for their fans.  

Why?

To those that do, do you honestly feel your methods of celebrating are any more sophisticated, or humble than others?  I'm here to inform you that they are not.

Sure, there's the exception to every rule, but as a majority, all fans are obnoxious in their own way and probably hated on some level by any opposing counter.  It's every fans' right. (And for that matter, every fan has the right to root for a local team for the sake of wanting to cast jubilation upon them.) 

Even as a Yankees' fan, I know the arrogance that exudes from the pores of 55,000 New Yorkers as a Boston Red Sox takes the field at Yankee Stadium.  Sports are about passion and subjectivity; I'm not denying that.

I am, rather, requesting that as a passionate sports fan, you remove your guard and cheer for your local fan base as if it were your own.  I promise it'll be worth it.

But here's the key to maximizing the experience:

Don't pretend to be one of the crowd.  Just stand afar from the pack, yet still engulfing your emotions in the battle. 

Perhaps Jets' fans do not want your support.  Fine.  But offer it anyway.  If you're at a bar with a friend who happens to be living and dying with every play call, slap him a high five when his team does well.  Don't, however, offer commiseration when his team doesn't.

I've had good fortune with my sports' interests.  And for that, some might argue that it's easy for me to lay such a ludicrous expectation on others. 

If that's the case, then so be it. 

But I'll admit to one secret.  Prior to 2004, it was my feeling that even a Boston Red Sox fan should have the satisfaction of being overwhelmed with the joy of a title. (For the record, though, I never thought they should be treated to two.)

So regardless of if your team wins nothing in twenty years, or three in four, do the right thing. 

For every enthusiastic sports fan that hopes this year's the year his team will bring it home, root for them. 

For the guy you grew up with, the one you haven't seen in fifteen years but always could remember his fan hood, root for them. 

For the guy you see around town sporting the worn out local hat, root for them.  

For the couple who own season tickets, tailgate to every home game, and raise their children to one day do the same, root for them. 

For the elderly fan that waves the sign that reads, "Now I can die in peace," root for them. 

For the grown men who plan on crying when their team finally wins it all, root for them. 

Come this Sunday, even if you believe the Jets, Colts, Saints, or Vikings have little chance in their respective games because you do not bleed the colors they wear, but live within ear shot of their battle cries, root for them. 

Frankly, what do you have to lose?    

It took me a few days to process the magnitude of what Tiger Woods admitted to, when he professed his rumored "transgressions."  And although it has taken me almost two weeks to decide where I stand, I still feel as though his actions, and the impact they'll have on the game of golf and fans of athletes in general, have not yet fully sunk in.

Does Tiger Woods owe me, or anyone else for that matter an explanation of what happened outside his Windermere, FL home?  No.  Just because we buy the products he endorses, or swing the equipment he uses does not entitle us to the intimacies of his relationships, plural. 

Unfortunately, the true consequence is the damage done to the sport he plays, which prospered with each successful moment Tiger attained.  

Regardless of the steps Woods takes to repair his image, it's too late to recapture the casual fans, the ones who tune in on Sunday to witness Tiger walk another eighteen on his way to yet another championship.      

Personally, my admiration for his athletic abilities will never waver.  He still performs a game that eludes the majority of us at a level we're unable to fathom.  His personal life has always been private to most.  And for that, it isn't difficult to separate the before and after of this still unfolding story.  

But for the fan that was attracted to golf because of what Tiger embodied: focus, determination, and of course, family, they're gone.  And they ain't coming back.  For all the wives of golf fans that sat watching on Sunday afternoons simply because Tiger was in hunt, their interest has officially expired.  

Don't get me wrong.  I feel no sympathy for Tiger Woods.  I do, however, feel sad for the game of golf and sports as a whole.  Living in the era that we do, where athletes' finances are so superior to most occupations, provides an element of immortality for the elite competitors of sports.

This enables leagues or associations to market their lead figures in such an iconic way that any accomplishment they attain elevates their respective sport to enormous levels.  

Tiger Woods will win championships and, who knows, perhaps become more inspired to break Jack Nicklaus' majors record of 18 sooner than he planned.  But the lead up to this task has been altered in such a way that history will have no choice but to tarnish the journey.  

Tiger Woods lost face when he crashed his SUV outside his home. 

But golf lost its ambassador.  

We know what the critics are saying: "It's been nine whole years since the poor Yankees last tasted victory."

And in some respect, it's true.  

Fans of the New York Yankees are spoiled to be given a competitive team year in and year out.  But so what.  Fans of other teams are simply resentful and jealous that it isn't their team attempting to win every title.

But wait a second.  The Yankees don't win every title.  So what's all the fuss about?

Just because the Yankees spend money to win - you know, the whole point of sports in the first place - doesn't guarantee them a title (as the last nine years have proven).

Personally, there are friends in my life that are Red Sox fans, Phillies fans and Mets fans.  But bitterness is never a flavor I experience.  Maybe it's because, up until last night, four titles in five years provided me with a palate immune to resentment.

When the Red Sox won their first title, this writer was respectful of their championship, even though they did it in historic fashion over the Yankees.  

When the Phillies theirs, same thing.  Even when the Mets, a team situated on a fellow-neighboring borough of Manhattan, fell one pitch away from making an appearance in the World Series, I rooted the Metropolitans on.  

It's my feeling that every fan should have the opportunity to experience the taste of victory.

Five years later, and two championships, you would think Red Sox fans would have the decency to sit back quietly, respecting what it takes to win it all. 

But no.

Let's keep things in perspective here.  The Sox sought Alex Rodriguez.  They dangled large amounts of money (although seemingly not enough) in the eyes of Mark Teixeira.  And don't dare claim they didn't want CC Sabathia this off season.

But because they couldn't wrangle them in, they're once again bitter.

The adage goes: It isn't a rivalry until both teams win.  

Well, now that the Sox have captured their glory, and the Yankees once again theirs, the battle resumes.

But we digress.

For now, the New York Yankees are champions.  

In six games, the best team of 2009 showed what it took to win.  No one made predictions.  They simply went out and played ball.  They hit, they pitched, they fielded, and they did it all with purpose.

Say what you may about the boys from the Bronx.  But if your team woke up today as World Series Champions, I would say congratulations!

Is it the heat of the battle that causes us to rest on the edge of our seats, as grown men - having nothing to do with our personal lives - compete for victory?

Is it that sports - the same ones we participated in as kids and were eventually unable to perform at the highest level - enable us to hold onto our youth?   

On a given day, thousands of fans dress themselves in team-favorite jerseys in order to display particular fanhoods.  And throughout a sporting event, emotions will sway, cursing will ensue, and a winner and loser will affect two sides.  

But for fans, especially the diehard, sports play a pivotal role in how we go about our day.  If the game is on, everything else takes a back seat.  (Except for our wives!)

Considering all this, I needed an explanation.  So I decided to reach out to some dedicated sports junkies and simply ask.

Here are some findings:

Why do fans wear paraphernalia?

Reasons ranged from wanting a feeling of knowing "that everyone ... will know where I stand," to "It's gameday.  If I don't, is a win possible?"

Or...

"If I didn't, would the players on the field really know whether they were home or away?"  I wasn't really sure if this was a serious response, but if it was, god bless the devotion.  

On the day of a big game, the actual participants experience emotions like nervousness, peacefulness or anticipation.

But for the fans, the ones sitting idly by:

"One word, zone.  If I get into the zone before my team, there's no way they can fail."  

Or...

"Urgency.  I can't wait for the puck to drop."  

When pressed to know why, this last comment stoked this:

"Because when my team lights the lamp ... my stomach tingles like the goal and the moment were mine.  And I can't wait for that feeling."

But the most informative sincerity came from a fan of the World Champion Philadelphia Phillies:

"Honestly, when the Phils are playing, all reality escapes me.  I get the feeling ... all that matters is me and the nine guys on the field.  There could be a hurricane going on around me, but as long as the game's still on television, I'm at peace.  My world starts and ends with the Phils.  Call me what you may, but it's what gets me up during the baseball season."

(Imagine what this guy's feeling now that the Phillies are seeking back-to-back titles.)  

But what if his Phils don't win?

Of the emotions some fans experience when their team fails to produce a victory, the most popular was devastation.  

A close second - worthless.  

Some honorable mentions: gut wrenching, sick, angry, and the most alarming, "I feel ... angry enough to probably choke someone."  

Having considered these disheartening feelings and then wondering why we put ourselves through this torture, the impossible question naturally surfaced: How long could we go without sports?

"Are you kidding me?  I would take a crushing defeat over not being able to watch a game."

(Not me.)  

"Two days, max.  Any longer and I'll have to watch those Super Bowl highlights ESPN has on during the month of January."

(By the way, I love those!)

Finally...

"Whether it's poker, bass fishing, X Games or women's basketball, I need sports."  

As for me, I can handle poker as a sport.  But watching bass fishing on television is like observing an accountant doing my taxes.  No thank you!

But hey, I guess if you like competition then a sport's a sport.  

Nevertheless, whether these excerpts provided you any insight into why fans are so loyal to their teams is beyond the point. 

Fans root for sports the way religious folk attend a service; It gives them meaning.  It offers purpose to know our teams are there each night, waiting for us to scream, holler, cheer, cry, curse, hug, high five, inhale in disappointment or exhale in jubilation.  

On the morning of a big game, I personally wake up knowing I'm going to be entertained with greatness.  This isn't to say I've mastered the art of watching my team lose, because my wife will attest that I haven't.  

But regardless of the outcome, sports is my life.  I enjoy athletes performing magical moments and writing history right in front of my eyes.

Why are fans so enthusiastic about sports?  

Because we love em.   

Come Week One of the NFL season, markets which produce both baseball and football see a change in viewership, as MLB fans quickly shift their attention toward the NFL. 

It's understandable to see this pattern in areas like Kansas City, Cincinnati or Pittsburgh, where their respective teams are, for the most part, not in contention by September.  

In major markets like New York and Boston, however, where the Yankees and Red Sox consistently prepare for October, fan interest drops off just as dramatically in the last month of the baseball calendar. 

For the true fan whose team will be competing in October, their attention will refocus.  But for the casual fan, the one that most sports depend on for added viewership, seasons like MLB's 2009 could become an issue.

So rather than sit by idly, MLB needs to be proactive. 

Last year at this time, the Red Sox were within three of Tampa Bay; Minnesota and Chicago were neck and neck (they ended up playing a one-game playoff); the Mets were fighting for their wild card and divisional lives; and the Diamondbacks were only two games behind the Dodgers.  

Fast forward to this year and the Yankees are 8.5 up on the Sox, who are six up on the Rangers in the wild card, who are six behind the Angels for the division.  In the NL, the Phillies are five up on the Braves; the Cardinals are 8.5 up on the Cubs; and the Dodgers are five up on the Rockies.  

The only two races worth watching are the Tigers and Twins, separated by two games; as well as the Rockies and Braves divided by 2.5.

Reacting to the current criticism the game is facing, MLB aims to prove this year an anomaly.  

They responded with the following:

   -From 2001-2008, only the Yankees, Red Sox and Cardinals have made it to the World Series more than once. 

   -In this time, of the 30 MLB teams, 23 made the playoffs.  In three of the six divisions, every team but one made it to October (AL Central, AL West & NL East) and in a fourth, the NL West, all five teams moved on to the post-season, including three World Series runs.    

   -From 2005-2006, only one team in both leagues made the playoffs back-to-back. (Not surprisingly, the Yankees.)

But parity isn't MLB's main concern.

The sport has seen variety in October, sure.  But in a season of 162 games, when the casual fan decides to tune in with the hopes of catching exciting, down-to-the-wire baseball, if the product is suffering down the stretch, further revisions may be necessary.

Since most complain about the length of the season anyway, shorten it back to 154 games.  Include two additional wild card teams per league (three total) and structure it according to the NFL standard - top two get a first round bye and so on.

If this system were in place this year, we'd see the Mariners, Twins and Rays all within two games of the final spot with the Rangers holding a four game lead for the fifth position.

In the NL, the Braves would hold a 2.5 game lead for the fifth slot, with the Marlins, Giants and Cubs jockeying for the sixth, all separated by only 1.5 games.

This suggestion may sound like it would water down the prospect of making the post-season, but so did the initial wild card format when it was implemented in 1994.  And for that matter, the thought of adding two division winners per league probably didn't go over so well when first conceived in 1969.  

In order to survive, leagues need to evolve. 

Eventually, more than one wild card per league will become essential for MLB to do just that.   

When the Tennessee Titans lost on the opening drive of overtime against the defending Super Bowl Champion Pittsburgh Steelers, once again, the overtime system came under fire.

When you actually review the numbers of it, though, the odds favor the system.

Since 2001, including the playoffs, there have been 136 overtime games.  With the exception of two ties, thirty-eight percent of the time the team that won the toss, won the game on its ensuing drive.

This means that close to sixty-one percent of the time, what appeared to be an overwhelming advantage - that the team offered the ball first had a greater chance to win the game - proved otherwise.

But wins and losses shouldn't support the heads or tails argument.    

The coin toss is an illogical and, according to the aforementioned numbers, deceiving option.  

Sure, the opening moments of a game are decided on a 50/50 call, but that gets sliced into two halves.  If one team receives the ball in the first quarter, the other gets it to start the third.  

In no other sport (removing home field) does an overtime arrangement give one team an advantage over the other.  

In baseball, each team gets a crack.  In hockey and basketball, the puck and ball are dropped down or thrown up in a free-for-all.  In golf or tennis, each player gets an equal chance to win, whether it be a set, a match or a hole.

But in football, sorry, call it in the air.

The rebutting argument is: it's the defense's job to stop the offense.

Perhaps.

But not even the most formidable defenses in NFL history would lead a coach to kickoff in overtime.  

No.  Any coach, with the game on the line, would want the ball first.  

But this debate isn't new.  It's been going on for quite a while and the NFL seems to stubbornly ignore it.

So should they be?

Ironically, this displeasure with the system usually resurfaces when a meaningful game concludes on an opening overtime drive, leaving a star QB helplessly on the sideline. (Think Peyton Manning vs. the Chargers in 2008.)

When viewed through the prism of playoff implications, it's fair to say the system needs revamping.  

The NFL's claim has always been that in order to uphold the integrity of the sport, the overall format of overtime must remain in place.

And maybe so.

Although this does not suggest that from goal line to goal line needs changing, as was the case with the college format.  It does imply, however, that the game's balance shouldn't hinge on the side of a coin.

Many alternatives are not better than the status quo, so until one is, we'll deal with what we have.

But let's end on one and see if it sticks:

The team without the ball at the end of regulation kicks off to start overtime.  Both teams play a fifteen minute quarter and the team winning at the end of that time is the victor.

It's basically a continuation of regulation whereupon the incentive to win at the end of four quarters still exists.

There are some loop holes, of course.  Teams will intentionally punt to get rid of the ball, or attempt a 65-yard field goal to get rid of their possession, but these wrinkles can be ironed out.  

For instance, the regular strategy of football cannot be compromised.  Meaning, a third down punt, or a 75-yard field goal attempt.  

Maybe it's not perfect, but neither is a coin toss.

Any ideas, let us hear them...

He has officially been taken off his pedestal and, at least for now, stripped of his title, "God of Golf." Because in all fairness, treating him this way—the way the entire PGA world treats him—puts more pressure on everything he does.

After Woods held a four stroke lead going into the third round of the PGA Championship, one stroke off the record five, he was all but proclaimed the winner.

And could anyone argue?

History told us with any lead, let alone four strokes, Tiger dominates. He was 8 for 8 having led or been tied in a major after two rounds and 14 for 14 after three. Judging by these numbers, we came to expect nothing less than victory on Sunday. But this time, that wasn't the case.

Y.E. Yang beat Tiger at his own game—sort of. Although Woods has never come back to win a major the way Yang did, Y.E. held his composure down the stretch and hit a clutch 206-yard shot to within eight feet on 18, practically hitting the pin in the process.

After Woods left his approach shots on 17 and 18 in the heavy rough, slightly off the green, he was unable to get up and down, and bogeyed both en route to a subpar 75 round.

But that wasn't the fascinating part.

Having studied Woods since he burst on the majors' scene in 1997, his crumbling demeanor was awe-inspiring. This Sunday, on 18, for the first time, his head was down, his shoulders slouched, and his mind adrift.

Someone close to me suggested he's not as mentally tough as he once was. And maybe not. Even the great Jack Nicklaus, when asked about Tiger's chances of catching his record 18 majors, remarked how unpredictable it can be once he has a family to worry about.

So is Tiger weakening in his mind or is his game fading?

If you ask me, it's neither. The reason we all become so shocked when Tiger fails is because we've come to expect so much thus far. Maybe for once, the pressure is finally off him and he'll excel to even greater heights.

Maybe next time, when faced with similar conditions, instead of 14 for 14, he'll be 14 for 15, he'll be able to go out there and do what he does best—win.

Tiger has always placed enormous emphasis on winning majors, so when he doesn't, it's his own fault any failure is deemed so large. But honestly, he's won five tournaments since coming back from knee surgery—more than anyone else in that time. And finishing second in a major is still pretty good.

Will Tiger catch Jack? This writer is still betting yes.

But please stop expecting a Tiger Slam or some other Godly feat each time he walks to the first tee box. Because after this past Sunday, at age 33, the once fully-armored Tiger Woods appeared human.

The Penguins won their third Stanley Cup, the first since 1992, and in the process deprived the Red Wings their 11th.  While the Lakers captured their 15th, their first since 2002, the Magic lost for the 2nd time in 2 visits.

Every year, whether it's the NHL, NBA, MLB or NHL, professional sports teams win championships.   Rarely do we see organizations earning their first.  Rather, for the most part, as was the case this weekend, franchises tend to accumulate more.  

As the Yankees seek their 27th World Series title and the Steelers their 7th Vince Lombardi Trophy, let's look back over the years and assess which sports teams have earned the right to be considered some of the greatest of all time.

To start with the most, the Yankees' 26 World Championships is king.  Their late nineteen nineties surge of 4 in 5 years moved them past the Montreal Canadiens for the most by any sports team.  But does 26 tell the true story?

Beginning in 1969, MLB expanded its 2 team playoff format allowing 2 more teams to contend for a title.  Prior to this, the Yankees captured twenty out of sixty-five World Series.  Or, 31% of the total championships.  

Since the expansion, they've collected six of the next thirty-eight titles.  Or 16%.  It's obvious, then, that as MLB welcomed more teams to the race for a World Series, the likelihood that one team would rule decreased.  Do these numbers diminish the Yankees 26 titles?  

Considering only the Oakland A's have more than 3 since 1969, with 4, or 11% of the total, six in that span and 26 titles overall still holds water.

As for the NHL...

The Montreal Canadiens have tallied 23 Stanley Cups wins.  This number nearly doubles that of 2nd place Toronto with 13, who by the way haven't won another since 1967.  

But similar to the restructuring of MLB's playoff format, the NHL went to a 16-team system for the 1980-1981 season, and since this time, Wayne Gretzky's Edmonton Oilers lead the way with 5 Cups followed by the Detroit Red Wings' 4.  

Just like the way the Yankees racked up titles in the 50's, the Canadiens took advantage of a league of 6 by winning five consecutive Cups from 1956-1960.  Should their accomplishments be lessened because of the lack of competition?  

For the recent format, the Halves won in 1986 and 1993.  

Until the Maple Leafs can get within single digits and break their forty-two year slump, we'll grant the Canadiens the NHL's team.  (Although the Red Wings are creeping up.)

Moving to the NBA is where it gets interesting.

The Boston Celtics have won 17 NBA Championships followed by the Los Angeles Lakers with 15.  

The Lakers, who once resided in Minneapolis, shot out to a 5-0 lead in this back and forth rivalry.  

The Celtics answered with eight in a row from 1958-1966 and an incredible 11 titles over a 13 year span.  What's more remarkable: the Celtics defeated the Lakers in 7 of those 11 titles.  

Throughout the 80s, the Celtics added on three more titles and were present in the finals a total of 5 times.  As for the Lakers, they won 5 titles and represented the West in an astounding 8 of the 10 championships of the decade. 

Which seems to be where the Lakers take this debate.  

Of the 63 years the NBA title has been a goal, the Lakers have been one of the final two to compete for it a total of 30 times.  The Celtics a respectable 20.  

Regardless of the amount of times the Lakers have won the whole thing, a 48% championship finals rate is an achievement in any capacity.  

And finally there's the NFL.

This past February the Pittsburgh Steelers recorded their NFL-best 6th Super Bowl victory.  In the process, they surpassed the Dallas Cowboys and San Francisco 49ers both with 5.  

Considering there have only been forty-three Super Bowls, and the parody preached amongst the NFL is so prominent, it's difficult to argue that 6 titles makes a team the best.  

The Cowboys have made the final stage a league best 8 times; the 49ers are undefeated at 5-0 in Super Bowl play, and the Vikings and Bills made the trip four teams each, although both unfortunately losing all four.

The reality, then, is that football existed prior to the two leagues merging to form a Super Bowl in 1966.  Before that, the likes of the Green Bay Packers, Chicago Bears, Detroit Lions, Washington Redskins and New York Giants roamed the championship gridiron.  

These teams combined to dominate 21 out of the 33 NFL Championships and after 1966, collectively hold 10 of the 43 Super Bowls.  So you see, to extend the NFL discussion over seventy-seven years trumps the mere 6 Super Bowl wins the Pittsburgh Steelers have attained.  

In a nutshell, winning writes history.  It's always a great story when the Tampa Bay Rays or Arizona Cardinals shock the sports world and make a run toward a title.  But unless they follow it up with more of the same for years to follow, they'll simply become just a fluke.

Consistent winners give sports fans something to chew on.  Time and time again these aforementioned teams, when not playing well befuddle us with why.  

When they are playing well, amaze us with wow.  

Nadal, the reigning 4-time Champion, appeared invincible leading up to his quest to conquer Roland Garros for a fifth straight time.  But after a shocking fourth-round loss, the first on Nadal's French Open record, the script for Federer has changed. 

Federer, who some consider the best ever to play the game of Tennis, has yet to add the clay of Roland Garros to his resume.  This inability has left others skeptical of his place atop Tennis' elite. 

Their reasoning: unless Roger can win all four Slams at least once, he cannot be mentioned as the greatest ever to swing a racket. 

Pete Sampras (14), though, whom Federer will tie with his next Grand Slam victory, never won the French Open neither.  He never even made it to a final match. 

Bjorn Borg, who dominated Wimbledon and the French Open with 5 and 6 wins respectively, never competed in the Australian Open finale and was defeated all four times he played in the U.S. Open final.

In fact, only 5 Grand Slam winners have ever won all four slams (Emerson, Laver, Perry, Budge & Agassi).

Similar to Tiger Woods' dominance of golf, Federer held the #1 ranking for a remarkable 237 consecutive weeks, smashing Jimmy Connors' previous record of 160 weeks.  

Still, without this elusive title, perhaps even in Federer's mind, his career remains incomplete. 

If Federer does manage to make a trip to this year's French Open final, his fourth consecutive one, it'll extend a record nineteenth Grand Slam final, and he'll become the only individual to appear in every Slam final at least four times. 

Furthermore, with Nadal now out of the way, Federer has a golden opportunity to cement his place in Tennis immortality. 

If he can hoist the Coupe des Mousquetaires for the first time, not only will he equal Sampras' mark of 14 Grand Slams, he'll finally remove the doubt that rests in the minds of his critics.

If, on the other hand, Federer were to lose in the final, his chance to capture the final of four legs may shrink further, leaving the naysayers to press on.   

To make matters more complicated, a Federer win over anyone besides Nadal could potentially leave an asterisk - both in his mind as well as others unwilling to claim him the "greatest."  

Despite it all, the reality is that a winner defeats those placed in front of them.  The skeptics must accept this truth; the perfectionists - which Federer appears to be - may have a harder time.  

Rafael Nadal has proven to be his personal hurdle toward #1 all time.  After losing three consecutive French Open final matches to Nadal, and having him end his Wimbledon streak of five consecutive titles, then losing earlier this year in the Australian Open final to Nadal, one thing is certain: Roger Federer was determined to take his torch back on Nadal's home turf.  

Not only would it have shown the Tennis world he can win them all, it would have demonstrated he could do it via the path less chosen - over Nadal.  

Now, come Monday, if Federer is French Open Champion, he'll have to accept a consolation prize of "greatest all time."