A Giant Obsession…


The NY Giants won their 3rd game in a row this past Sunday after suffering 6 consecutive losses. The Giants generational fan club was very excited, spending time enthusing and swearing through texts and phone calls during Sunday’s ugly victory.

It is hysterical to see my daughter, my mother and moi react to the shenanigans on the field. This year we are angrier than in past years. My mom hates Eli Manning and thinks he is a pussy. I have defended the Giants quarterback to the death, but after Sunday’s game I had to concede and tell my mom that she is right…a pick six and a wide open Victor Cruz on the 5 yard line and Manning misses him. Cruz could have walked into the end zone and danced the salsa before a Raider put a hand on him…Eli will have to be perfect the rest of the season to earn back my respect!

Courtny tends to be the voice of reason…she takes the wins and the defeats with a steadier hand than I do.

Boy, do the Bud Light commercials resonate with us…it is one commercial that we always watch. The tag line being, “It’s only weird if it doesn’t work…for the fans who do whatever it takes.” A true fan totally gets it. We are committed to doing whatever it takes as is evidenced in our ritualistic behavior. We wear the same Giants clothing until we experience a loss…clearly, we changed weekly the first six games of this season. We assume the same seating positions for our game viewing, high five after every scoring drive. The remote resides in the exact spot it was been for decades. Even the doggies have assigned seating.

If we are physically at the game, we leave by 10am so we arrive in time for warm up on the field and hang in the same spot in the end zone for an up close and personal perspective. The headset has new batteries so as to not miss a moment as the idiots in the row in front of us are constantly going on beer runs…all that money for a ticket and all they do is drink, pee and eat. This is our place of worship. Never are we closer to God, always asking for his help and support.

My mom calls after every score…we don’t speak after interceptions or opposing team touchdowns. Her favorite term for Eli Manning is, shit heel. We have no idea of the origins, but she is emphatic in her usage.

When the Giants lose, we all take a time out and separate…we cannot share the pain. I take it the worst and David has often suggested psychiatric help.

Whatever the outcome, it is nice to know that our three generations posse is bonded together for eternity by our devotion to the NY Giants, our beloved, albeit painful, obsession.



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