Dad died seven years ago, but he and I get together every Sunday in the fall, and with luck our reunions continue until early winter.
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Since people would think I'm nuts watching New York Giant games with my dead father, I usually watch them alone, with Dad.
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We have many victories together, none as sweet as December 19, 1981 against the Anti-Christ Cowboys.
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I was too young to enjoy the successes of the late 50s' and early 60s' Giants football club, but I was just the right age to suffer through the horrible Giant teams in the 60s' & 70s'.
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The Giants needed to beat the Cowboys on the last day of the 1981 season to make the playoffs for the first time since 1963.
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Dad drove to my apartment the Saturday before Christmas, we wore our blue best, and the Giants prevailed 13-10 on Joe "The Nose" Danelo's foot. No matter, they lost that year in the playoffs to the 49ers, they were back in the mix.
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Over the years, Dad and I won two Super Bowls together, and his spirit haunted me all night, gleefully, after the Giants beat the Patriots two years ago.
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Sweeping the Cowboys makes life brighter ~ Beating Dallas twice in a year ~ my personal World Series.
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My love to Joe Buck and all the bad haircut Cowboy fans out there.
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