The one argument the wide receiver could always make while the Giants kept winning despite his dozens of screwups and insubordinations was the only person he ever hurt was himself. It was always a lousy rationalization, a selfish conceit. But it became downright impossible for even Burress to cling to by Tuesday.

Scads of news crews staked out Giants Stadium to await his morning arrival and at least four of Burress' teammates found themselves dragged into the mess he created.

A day earlier, seething Mayor Michael Bloomberg hit the warpath and lit everyone from Burress himself to the hospital that treated but didn't report his gunshot wound to the police and a Giants club that's long been regarded as a model franchise in sports.

Burress had to go. And that's basically what Giants co-owner John Mara, general manager Jerry Reese and coach Tom Coughlin said when they fined him, slapped him with a season-ending suspension and placed him on the NFL's non-Football injury list -- the first move in recovering or voiding the rest of the $35-million contract they gave him just three months ago.

Burress needed exactly 21 days to make the Giants regret that show of faith by not reporting for work one day, a stunt that earned him a two-week suspension. He leaves New York as an enormous enigma, not just the fool who at 31 -- old enough to know better -- squandered a terrific NFL career and lifetime of guaranteed goodwill here as a Super Bowl hero by carrying a loaded, unlicensed gun into a midtown Manhattan nightclub and then accidentally shooting himself in the thigh Saturday.

If he can somehow beat the two criminal counts he was charged with Monday and doesn't go to jail, he'll get another job in the NFL. (If Pacman Jones can, anyone can.) But Burress no longer will be seen as just a talented but incorrigible nuisance who blithely kisses off hundreds of thousands in fines. He's going to be seen as a contaminant now, too.

One of the many disconcerting things about Burress' 10-month spiral since he caught the winning touchdown pass in last season's Super Bowl is how rapidly his bad behavior escalated. He went from merely being late for team meetings to public reports that his wife twice called police because of domestic disturbances. Now this.

Until now, the Giants justifiably have congratulated themselves for their 11-1 record despite the retirements and losses they've endured. But the adversity Burress has brought tumbling down on them is unlike anything they've faced. He's gone. But it's not over.

Giants middle linebacker Antonio Pierce, who was with Burress early Saturday morning, still could be in serious legal trouble if police decide he participated in a cover-up. How long will uncertainty shadow him? Giants running back Derrick Ward was so upset it was erroneously reported he was with Burress that he went on national TV on Tuesday to clear his name. Wideout Steve Smith, now has to answer questions about being robbed at gunpoint Tuesday outside his home, a terrifying incident that's been suggested as a rationale for why Burress might have been carrying a gun Friday night. Can you blame Smith now if he feels victimized twice?

The Giants' decision on Tuesday cemented how Burress leaves town. But why he blew everything? That's a sad story we may never understand.