Super Bowl: The Giants, St. Jude, and Casey

With that in mind, I turned to St. Jude (my Catholicism only occasionally appears on the Clipboard). You see St. Jude is the Patron Saint of desperate cases.

I said a prayer earlier in the week for the G-Men. Maybe I said a couple. Okay, all right, enough already I SAID NUMEROUS PRAYERS TO ST. JUDE.

Ya feel better now that you dragged that out of me?

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know there are far more important things to pray for: world peace, world hunger, new roof on the house…

I just thought that if for some reason St. Jude thought a Giant victory could comfort someone else in need that I was tight with that decision.

Yeah, I realize that Don Shula and Mercury Morris were probably one of the few who were actually comforted by last night’s result.

Of course I knew full well if St. Jude had something else in mind, I’d have to accept it.

So there I was 90 minutes prior to kick off, standing in the aisles of my local Fortune 500 grocers (yeah, I was there twice yesterday--I said yesterday was the "unofficial holiday") feeling conflicted. I was simultaneously wondering if this is how a lamb feels before being led to slaughter and wanting to yell at the top of my lungs: GO GEEEEEEE-MEN!

20 years ago and a couple of libations, I would have done the latter.

Instead, I quietly made my way to the drink aisle (realized about two hours prior to kickoff that we had invited a few of the daughters’ friends for the game, and we only had pop—soda for those of y’all outside of Western New York—to offer. I liken the consumption of pop to the ingesting of anti-freeze. The only responsible thing to do was to get some juice / sports drinks) and proceeded to the cashier before heading to the pizza shop.

In one of those rare occurrences of life, I was actually early to pick up the pizza. I had been listening to ESPN radio and their pre-game coverage. I started getting butterflies. Yeah, you read that right—I started getting a little anxious.

What if the G-Men came all this way to implode again?

I didn’t know if could handle it, and with the couple extra minutes I had while waiting for the pie, I phoned Evan (some know him as Cleef). He is my oldest living Giant friend—just needed that reassurance that if the Giants went down, I had someone with me. I’m sure Evan is happy that I called him and used the word oldest to describe him.

Of course I’m early and the pizza…er…scratch that…the wings were late. Any chance that I have overcome my inability to hide impatience was dismissed when the kitchen worker came out and said: “Sorry, man I know you’re in a hurry; I can tell.”

I gotta do something about my ‘look’.

Didn’t matter I made it home in time.

In case anyone was wondering Doug Gottelieb was doing an NCAA Hoops show on ESPN radio during the Super Bowl. Any takers as to how many listeners he had?

GIANTS WIN THE TOSS! GIANTS WIN THE TOSS! GIANTS WIN THE TOSS!

Okay, so it didn’t have the same effect as Bobby Thompson’s home run.

Troy Aikman and that spooky post-coin toss—pre-kick off intro to the game gave me the willies. I know he’s good announcer and all and of course the females all find him dreamy, but a friggin’ ex-Cowboy is doing the intro? This could be a bad omen.

First possession—Brandon Jacobs lowers his shoulders and takes on a posse of Patriots. I love that guy…er…I love his running style.

The Giants are using Ahmad Bradshaw on the first possession? Guess that kills one of my few predictions for the game.

Doesn’t matter—one indelible image that will stick with me forever—the five foot nine inch Bradshaw getting in the face of six foot six inch Richard Seymour. Hah! The bigger they come; the harder they fall! I love it.

Snap is good; hold is good; the kick is up….Good! 3-0 G-Men. As an aside—funny how no one commented about the snaps in Green Bay. Both Tynes’s misses were the result of less than acceptable snaps.

Audi commercial with the Mo Green was great.

Randy Moss open and Tom Brady didn’t see him? Hmmmm…what’s up with that?

Better Half: “Can we sack him?” This is why I love her. Never been a Giant fan, but she is there for me in my time of need.

The gang has now arrived. Yeah—I kinda broke one of my rules. Usually don’t like watching games of this magnitude in a large group, but this group was worthy of the exception: the daughters, couple of friends that are girls, couple of friends that are guys, and…yeah…’boyfriends’. To add a little barley to the soup the friends that are boys and ‘boyfriends’ are also students at the school in which I work. So, Steve, Josh, Louie, Rich, and The Rock joined the gathering. Can’t leave out Fattie and her randomness and Gabbrielle.

Quickest first quarter in my recent knowledge ends with the Pats knocking on the door, but the Giants lead, 3-0. There is some solace here—the Giants leading after a quarter. St. Jude, thank you. If this is all we get, it was worth it.

First play—second quarter Pats score and lead 7-3.

Uh oh a Patriot mistake? Kickoff goes out-of-bounds? I was waiting for Belichik to throw the challenge flag. Something out-of-the ordinary had to cause that.

Great catch by Amani Toomer. On the ‘sweet meter’ he ranks with Domino Sugar.

Arrggghh…interception. Throw was too low for Steve Smith to adjust. Coach Coughlin appears rather calm - looks like his skin has recovered from the frost bite.

70’s movies must be en vogue—first the Godfather and now Rocky.

Better Half: Football coaches have signs like baseball coaches?” Come to think of it—when did that start? Maybe it’s always been there, and I just never took notice. That wouldn’t be like me.

Now punting: Chris Hanson. How did that happen? That guy gets as much use as a vice cop in a convent.

$2.7 million to remind us of Michael Jackson during the Super Bowl. Like Brother Reynell said: “One of the creepiest moments in half time history has gotta be Michael Jackson on stage with all those children.

Anyone needing a visual representation of the word unabated should refer to Kawika Mitchell getting to Brady.

Justin Tuck gets to Brady.

Back to back sacks of Brady. The last time that happened Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky were…were…well you know.

Second Patriot punt.

Moss is sweating, and he hasn’t even caught a pass. Somewhere Al Davis is asking for his money back.

I could do without the camera focusing on Eli when he is staring at the sideline with his mouth open. I do not get a feeling of assurance when I see him looking a little distant.

One of the kids: “Who’s Tom Petty?”

Now my mouth is wide open.

Many more Wes Welker receptions and Moss is gonna sign else where.

Giants call timeout. WOW! What a shift. The Giants are not content to keep it close at half.

The Planters commercial receives rave reviews.

’86 Bears and the ’08 Giants have held teams to the lowest offensive output at half. Did I see that right?

Degrees of Kurt Russell and my age:
Me: “Was that Kurt Russell in the luxury suite?”
Better Half: “I think so.”
Daughter #2: “Who’s Kurt Russell?”
Better Half: “He’s married to Goldie Hawn…or at least he used to be married to Goldie Hawn.”
Daughter #2: “Who’s Goldie Hawn?”
Better Half: (after a brief delay) “She’s Kate Hudson’s mom?”
Me: (thinking to myself) Who’s Kate Hudson?

Fumble—I try explaining the Raiders ‘Holy Roller’/ Fumblerooski play to Rich and Josh. Can’t find it on You Tube.

Half time—how did I NOT predict “Running Down a Dream”? I blew it. I’ll do better next time.

I went to a Super Bowl gathering and a Euchre tournament broke out.

Gabby and I are the only ones not playing cards.

Rich and The Rock are making me nervous—neither like losing, and they are not on the same team.

Louie proves that chivalry is not dead. He defers his spot in the first game to the Better Half. Second game picks up soon after.

Video Review—this can’t be good.

Giants have too many on the field. Patriots retain possession. Coughlin still maintains his composure.

Wow! That was quite a close up of Coach C. Did they put make up on his face? What do they call that stuff that makes one’s skin look even in appearance?

Somehow the Giants D stiffens. Pats had their first big break and failed to convert.

Amani Toomer!!!!!

Can someone please slap Asante Samuel. Eli throws into triple coverage and Samuel happens to deflect the pass. Now he is posturing like he made a game-saving interception.

Grocery stores in Glendale are still open—the bananas have arrived.

7-3 at the end of the third quarter? St. Jude, I owe you big time.

WHAT IS SHOCKEY DOING IN THE LUXURY BOX? IS HE DOWNING BEERS? I’M NOT EVEN DOWNING BEERS. Everyone say after me: trade-bait, trade-bait, trade-bait. Get rid of him.

Tyree for 6!

This can’t be happening. St. Jude what exactly do you have in mind for repayment?

Hail to John Johnson! - Keeping Giants healthy since 1948.

9:30 left and I am fighting myself. The Giants are leading, but I don’t want to set myself up for the ultimate letdown.

Sure enough the Patriots rally.

2:30 remaining.

Steve is at level 3 of Dino Puzzle (I have no idea. I am simply reporting what was going on at Edgemere Drive).

ELI! ELI! ELI!

TYREE! TYREE! TYREE!

PLAXICO! PLAXICO! PLAXICO!

When Eli lobbed that pass in the air, there was a moment of silence in the room. For the first time in I don’t know how long I felt that magical moment of satisfaction in cheering for the Giants. Nothing else mattered. All the dropped passes, false starts, and over thrown passes that were all too common earlier this year seemed like distant memories. I leapt from my chair and kinda had a Jim Valvano moment—looking for someone to hug. I quickly recomposed myself. Josh and The Rock had a ‘deer in the headlights look’ when they saw me coming at them. Kinda like—yo Mr. G - we enjoy coming to your crib and all, but we are not at the hugging level yet.

I settle for a few high fives.

4 and out for the Pats.

Eli genuflects.

Someone pinch me…OW! Not that hard! 

The hairdo on the trophy platform was scary.

I’m a Giants Fan—I have no more misery.

Thank you, St. Jude.

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