“I just think that once he comes into the league, he’s going to understand,” that’s what Michael Strahan said about Shedeur Sanders. All composed and at ease. Like a man who has witnessed what most people will never see—and survived to share it on national television in a suit. Because when someone like Strahan says something like that, it doesn’t come from nothing. It comes from seeing individuals sucked up and spit out by a machine that doesn’t give a damn about your dad, your social media presence, or how loud your hype train is.

Strahan dropped the C—bomb while chopping it up with Carmelo Anthony, Monica McNutt, and Kid Mero in Red Hook. An impromptu sports salon hosted by a recently minted Hall of Famer in Melo. And, as a football legend who doesn’t practise phoney wisdom, pays a visit. The group was deep in discussion, covering everything from the development of the NFL to how the media circus has influenced the athlete experience. But when did things actually lock in? When Shedeur Sanders was mentioned.

Monica McNutt posed the question everyone’s thinking but few dare to ask directly: “What advice would you give Shedeur even though Dion’s obviously his dad?” Not as a quarterback. Not as Deion’s son. Strahan didn’t flinch. He didn’t rush to advise, either. In fact, he started by giving Deion his flowers. “I think Deion’s given him all the best advice he can get, and that’s why he’s in the position that he’s in. I think he’s going to have to display at some point a somewhat some humility. But I hope he’s great. Like is a great player,” Strahan said.

And then he shifted gears. Michael Strahan, an NFL veteran who departed from one of the most illustrious defensive runs in history with 141.5 sacks and a Super Bowl ring, stepped in. “I know he’s brash. I know he’s cocky, arrogant. He has that—and you need that,” Strahan admitted. “But there are some people who will try to knock you off the pedestal, no matter how great you are.” Translation? The league adores self-assured children—until it doesn’t. Swagger is only currency if you’ve got the receipts. And right now, Shedeur’s receipts are still stamped NCAA.

Ever the strategist, Strahan understood the value of self-assurance. He flourished in a league that makes an effort to make you look bad every Sunday. However, he was also aware of the price of misguided boldness. The NFL is a production-driven organisation, not a feeling. Despite his flair, Shedeur is viewed as just another name on the depth chart with a target on his back as soon as he enters the league. Strahan wasn’t dragging him. He was guarding him. “I guarantee there are more people who hope the kid falls on his face,” he said. “And I’m just not one of them, ’cause I want him to do great.”

Then came the mic drop: “You never heard about Deion Sanders being arrested. You never heard about Deion Sanders getting a DUI… beating his wife… getting in fights in clubs.” That wasn’t just defending Deion. That was contextualizing Shedeur’s upbringing. Discipline runs in the family, even if swagger gets all the headlines. So yeah—Shedeur might be cocky. But he’s also coached, protected, and prepared in ways most rookies can only dream of. And Strahan sees it.

Just when it felt like the conversation might ease back into generic sports banter, Strahan pulled a fast one—tossing in a half-serious, half-mastermind suggestion.

Michael Strahan’s bold nudge to the Giants

“If the Giants got him, that’d be insane.” There it was. From a man who represents New York football. That was not a joke. That was a request and a suggestion. A plea, an idea, a low-key call to action from someone who knows what this franchise is starving for. Michael Strahan is more than simply a former Giants player. He is Mr. Giant. The man who led the defence during a run to the Super Bowl that overthrew the Patriots’ winning streak. The man who sacked quarterbacks like it were a walk in the park. So when he mentions a QB who would be a good fit for New York? It’s worth more than a thousand mock drafts.

And let’s face it—Russell Wilson in New York feels like a Band-Aid applied to a gunshot wound. Although he is well-known, has a Super Bowl ring, and has a wealth of experience, this isn’t 2014 Seattle. The Giants required guidance in addition to a quarterback. And, giving the keys to a quarterback in his mid-30s who has just finished two unimpressive seasons seems more like a short-term diversion than a long-term fix. If Big Blue wants to stop living in quarterback purgatory, they’ll need more than Wilson—they’ll need to cook up a new identity. Enter Shedeur Sanders.

And we’re not talking about undeveloped skills here. The kid threw for nearly 3,200 yards and 27 touchdowns last season, even though Colorado’s leaky offensive line let defenders hit him more than a piñata at a birthday party. What Shedeur brings is a command. He has the poise, the vision, and the mechanics. But more than that, he brings something New York hasn’t seen since Eli Manning: presence. The type of player who doesn’t just play in the spotlight—he demands it. And thrives in it.

Michael Strahan knows what New York does to unready talent. He’s seen the headlines shred young athletes who weren’t built for the pressure cooker. But he also knows Shedeur might be uniquely wired for this stage. With Deion’s blueprint and his own undeniable skill set, Shedeur isn’t coming in blind. He’s already been the face of a movement. He’s already taken hits—literal and figurative—and kept coming. The brashness people criticize? In New York, that’s currency. If it’s paired with production, it’s gold.

And let’s not forget the marketing angle. Shedeur in Giants Blue would be a brand explosion. The kind of charisma that fills press conferences, sells jerseys, and revives a fan base that’s tired of being in the middle of the pack. Pair him with a young core, solid weapons, and the right coaching staff, and suddenly, you’re not just rebuilding—you’re rebranding.