My Championship Week

Since spring training will soon be taking our hearts and minds, it seemed like the right time to share my experiences over the past week plus. I'm a Giants fan. Not just cause I hate Belichick (which I do). Or because I won money on the game (which I did). I root for the other boys in blue thanks to my Brooklyn-born dad, who got me into James Bond, Woody Allen, and the coolest team in New York.

I've followed them for decades, rooting for them every season at Veteran's Stadium amidst the scariest M.F's on the planet (fans notorious for cheering Michael Irvin's career-ending injury and booing Santa Claus).

I was there at my friend Ross's house, when he'd pop the Famous Fumble (aka The Miracle at the Meadowlands) in the VCR, claiming it was a porn film he just found.

And I was there in San Diego, when Eli played his first game against the city he turned his back on. Wearing my lucky Jason Sehorn jersey, I got to be on the receiving end of 1000s of boos. One decrepit gentleman even held up a homemade "Eli Sucks" sign in front of me ALL NIGHT. Back then, I had a hard time disagreeing with that sentiment. (BTW, not sure how the TV cameras missed a 8 by 11 sign in the back of the second level.)

Giving up a 22 point lead to the 49ers in the playoffs. Getting creamed by the Ravens in the Super Bowl. Ron Dayne. The list goes on and on. And it was all worth it, for that Eli Manning scramble, David Tyree catch, and the dozens of emails and text messages I got. It's been 17 years since the last Super Bowl win, and this time I got to focus on the game instead of getting digits from that cute girl in the Les Miz shirt! I wish all of you such unbridled joy from something that is neither family nor career, and that you have absolutely no control over. Maybe this year will bring another 1988.