I'm wearing my pajamas under my uniform so I'm ready for anything. Frank Gifford told me to take out my old Our Lady of Good Council #16 jersey (we practiced in Central Park's 97th Street dust bowl in 1969) and told Coach Coughlin to put me as flanker in the second quarter after Jacobs and Bradshaw soften up the Packers defense with pounding runs.
My personal trainer, my grandfather, will be on the sidelines making weird faces and smoking his cigar and coughing a lot. At flanker, I'll be a triple threat on the reverse thanks to my wicked left arm and my strong right leg from kicking and throwing pillows around the living room when the Giants do poorly (Dad taught me).
I feel bad for my friends, John Oudens & Michael Goldberg, Green Bay Packers fans, but it's time to recover our senses and play four quarters of football. The Cheese Heads are going down. I plan to pick up extra yards by screaming "Geronimo!" after I catch the ball and straight arm would be tacklers. Gifford will be proud I'm wearing his number.
Despite Deborah's announcement in a Checker cab as we sat on the pull-up seats in front of our fathers, years ago, that there was no Santa Claus, this is what I'm wishing for tonight when I go to sleep, who needs sugar plum fairies.
peace in the valley, nygiants by a touchdown, tommy
Marx Brothers ~ Horse Feathers