Dear New York Giants,
I’d like to take a few moments out of my text gloating to let you know how grateful I am. Before late last year, I was never much interested in hated sports. But Sunday after Sunday of gathering around the TV (I was in it for the food and family) eventually hooked me once – after 32 years of it being explained – I finally understood the concept of “downs.” Suddenly, football became more to me than an excuse to overeat and stay in sweatpants all day. It became an event; a national party. And I was finally cool enough to be invited.
So thank you, thank you, thank you. Specifically, for:
Taking a chance on Victor Cruz. It was his salsa dancing that got my attention.
Not choosing red as your predominant color. I look much better in blue.
Giving my family some happiness this year. 2011 was tough. We needed you. You came through.
Giving me something to do on Sundays besides unnecessarily dread Monday.
Giving me an acceptable outlet for my pizza addiction.
Allowing me to experience Fan Tears. February 5, 2012 marks the day I first cried over sports.
Keeping Super Bowl XLVI exciting enough to make my heart pound faster than the first time I saw David Beckham.
Letting me scare my brother with the threat of coming for his seat in the family season tickets.
Yet another tee shirt.
I love you. I just wish I realized it years ago, when I was young enough to marry one of you.
Your newest fan,
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