Last Sunday was the Super Bowl. For those that don’t keep up with football, the New York Giants were playing against the New England Patriots. For those that don’t read my blog regularly, I am a huge Giants fan. We were still in Vermont, aka Patriot country, for the Super Bowl and being in New England left me outnumbered in my fan-ery, a fact my husband’s family did not forget to remind me.
I kept my mouth pretty quiet for most of the game–something I am not accustomed to doing while watching football–choosing to celebrate when I knew the Giants would win. Every catch, touchdown, every positive thing the Patriots did was thrown at me with taunting and shit-giving. I stayed quiet, saving up my celebrating for when it really counted.
Then this catch happened:
There was some cheering on my part at this point, but I still kept it under control. At the time I had a feeling this catch was a game changer, that the Giants pretty much guaranteed their win. But, again, I kept my thoughts to myself.
Turns out I was correct. This catch allowed them to keep the ball and make a touchdown. Getting the ball back with less than a minute of playtime, the Patriots did not have much to work with, and could not make a comeback, even with a stellar throw by Tom Brady as the clock rolled down 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… I jumped and hooted and celebrated the win, deciding to just be happy and not throw some shit my father-in-laws way.
My brother sent me the following pic a few days ago of a package he received from our uncle who lives in New York. Sums it up perfectly: