On Being a Parishioner in the Church of Mara

You’d think I have an ownership stake in the New York Giants based on the joy and affection I derive from and convey for the team. I love playing catch with a football, and miss playing tackle football every day but I have a more complex role as a devoted parishioner in the Church of Mara.

I stunk at basketball, I can’t dribble with my right hand. Once the defender knows you can’t drive right you’re dead. I can’t jump. I haven’t liked the Knicks since the 70s. 

I can skate but I can’t stop. When I go ice skating I have to go in circles or hit a wall to come to a halt. I stopped loving the Rangers when they lost their minds and traded Ratelle, Park and Middleton (500 goals) to get Phil “I’m going to stay in front of the net for a while” Esposito & Ken Hodge (8 goals) his Sancho Panza. The Rangers Cup in 1994 was a blip on my radar. 

I couldn’t hit a curve ball or a fast ball. My Yankees passion waned when they desecrated Yankee Stadium hiring the guy who designed Alexander’s and Korvette’s to do the 1973 renovation. My Yankee flame went out when Steinbrenner’s pompous mouth appeared in the media more than his team. George blew my buzz.

Getting older I seek comfort sources that sooth or rile me up like when I was 10 and there was nothing more important then the 25^th anniversary Superman double issue due out in one week. I didn’t sleep the last night before I bought it in the candy store.

The Giants remain the one team in sports I suspend my disbelief and let their victories lift me higher than any recreational drug ever did. But, if I am willing to put all my love temporarily in one place, then its loss will take me equally the other way, and for a long time I’m sad. I have places where I find relief.  They don’t fix it instantly but they ease the ache.  Pictured below are three of those spots. Central Park, Union Square and the Hudson River seawall.

I’m hopeful for Sunday’s game.  The Giants and 49ers have a long history of breaking each others heart. Only one moves on. 

As Elvis Costello says, “You can please yourself but somebody’s gonna get it.”  

Sunday, somebody gets it.

Giants Playing the 49ers, Springsteen, Life Is Good

Jim Burt Clocks Joe Montana ~ Jan 1987

The Giants playing the San Francisco 49ers in the NFL playoffs brings back feverish memories of the Jints playing the Bill Walsh gang and my detailed preparation for each game that included lots of indoor catch with rolled up socks while listening to Bruce Springsteen.

Go Giants! Bruuuuuce!

Bruce by Jeffrey Havas

New York Giants Send the Ryans Home to Texas

Poopface

The happiest New York Giant has to be Kevin Gilbride, the Giants offensive coordinator. Sending blustering Buddy Ryan’s two big mouth fat sons home for the winter. Ryan! No playoffs for you!  

See Poopface Ryan punch Gilbride here

As a die heart Giant fan, I’ve had many nemeses over the years, the Anti-Christ Cowboys, Bill Walsh’s 49ers, and Poopface Ryan's Eagles, to name a few.

Last night, the Giants beating the Cowboys made my old year and New Year. I swear when I was a kid, if the Giants went 2-12 but beat the Cowboys twice; as far as I was concerned they had a good year.

Realistically, winning the NFC East title while giving up more points then we scored, makes this seem a little bit like the NBA playoff scenario “let’s get everybody in there! Bring me your poor, sad, five hundred teams.”  But, this smells a lot like the 2007 Giant team that went on a roll and won four games on the road to Arizona. Cruz is this year’s Bradshaw surprise "where'd he come from break out player." Three cheers for Patterson, New Jersey!  Victor’s home town.  And last but not least, did you see Eli snake his way out of several sacks?  Manning runs the ball? Yes, he did!

Cowboys, go home.

All my love for the Cowboys is summed up in this story published in Mr. Beller’s Neighborhood in 2008.

Schadenfreude – How Bout Those Boys?

Beat Atlanta!