In my normal ordinary moments, I am not a Giants fan. The Giants as a team are usually relegated to the vague amorphous "other team" category that my team* generally loses against. I have two favorite teams, and the Giants only qualify when they're playing Frisco.**
But Oh My Goodness. I may have to change my favorites to the St. Louis Rams and the Giants when they aren't playing the St. Louis Rams. It isn't really because they beat the Patriots, althought the stainless steel shiny quality the Patriots were exuding was irritating the heck out of me and the endless inane chatter about the "perfect season" was beginning to chafe even my normally sanguine disposition. I confess I was quietly rooting for an upset because of this. But truly, I may have to change my alliances just because last night was the best game of football I've seen all season. Granted, I didn't watch every single game this season (an impossibility as far as I can tell, or I might have sacrificed that kidney for whichever cable tier would get me all of the Rams games. The Rams are playing poorly, so I get other games for which I have diminished enthusiasm.) My spouse tells me that there were actually some games worth watching. But this one...well, this one was football. Two teams that, for this night and this game and for whatever reasons, were pretty well matched. And they both wanted it so badly. I never once even thought of the remote control, much less twitched a finger to pick it up. There was never a single moment that I thought that I could do a leisurely loop around the channels because nothing much was going to happen in the next 30 seconds or so. I could live with the so-so commercials because I didn't want to miss one frame of football. That, my friends, does not happen in this house. I channel-flip through everything. Except for this Superbowl. The only performance I missed was half-time because I had to turn on the greenhouse heater (my citrus hates having cold roots) and I've been told repeatedly since that it was the best halftime show ever. So, powers that be, have Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers back next year, okay?
*The St. Louis Rams, if you must know. The originators of the phrase "Snatching defeat from the jaws of victory." The dirty rotten louses that deserted Sunny Southern California and decamped to their current location. Yup. My team. And the only reason I'm really mad at them for the desertion is that, while I might be persuaded to give up a kidney for a nosebleed seat, I really can't afford the airplane tickets and I really am not going to put up with the won'tkeepyousaferbutitlookslikewe'redoingingsomething security foofooraw. Especially if it parts me from my knitting needles for even a millisecond -- and I don't want to be sent to Guantanamo simply because I object to my Addi lace circulars being confiscated. This, however, is a rant for another day.
**My two favorite teams: the St. Louis Rams and whoever is currently playing the 49ers. Now, I do have friends and family who are 49ers fans; they are forgiven because they have many sterling qualities that overcome this obvious lack of judgment.