February 1, 2012

Just because I’m an acupuncture-yoga-qigong healer type doesn’t mean I don’t know my football.

Brian E. Ford

Why I Wish the Giants Would Lose More Than I Wish the Patriots Would Win.

And as a Patriots fan, it’s a little hard to admit.

And worse than admitting [Why I Wish the Giants Would Lose More Than I Wish the Patriots Would Win] would be feeling that my words are jinx-worthy. I can’t take that pressure.

But the elephant journal asked for articles about the Super Bowl…and I actually felt relatively qualified to spit one out, so here I am.

(For the record, if the Pats lose I blame elephant for your request)

You may assume that my wish is one of a weak, fairweather fan. Truth is, I’m watching the Super Bowl for more than the commercials. Just because I’m an acupuncture-yoga-qigong healer type doesn’t mean I don’t know my football.

Boston sports are in my blood.

That picture to the right is me being held up to watch the Patriots on T.V. One of my first major words was Yastrzemski.

I distinctly remember many days when my father would wheel the second tv into the living room so we could simultaneously watch the Bruins and the C’s. My favorite day of the week was Sunday so I could snuggle on the couch doing homework while watching football and eating Mom’s homecookin’.

Later in life I even served (briefly) as a sports reporter and once got the (mis?) fortune of being the only female in the Red Sox locker room as John Valentin stripped down to his birthday suit and smirked at my embarrassed 22 year-old self.

I grew up in Boston sports and I still proudly immerse myself in games as much as time allows. I take football Sunday seriously and sport a Bruschi jersey in lieu of a Brady one to demonstrate my love of the team as a whole and my old-schooledness. (Truly, regardless of how much I respect our amazing QB, there is not much worse than being accused of liking the team only because our main guy is hot enough to marry a supermodel. Also, my jersey isn’t pink with rhinestones, so please give this gal some credit.)

Yes, I consider myself devoted. So why write what may seem like a negative Nellie article? I’m so glad you asked, please let me explain. And further, please sit tight as I speak as if I’m part of the team because really I’m an honorary member. Or so I tell myself.

Anyone who has watched can admit that we’ve had a relatively rough season. Not our prettiest. And our defense? Let’s just say…well let’s just not say so we can reserve some semblance of optimism here and focus on the amazingness of it in the last few games and the joy of having some of our strongest players back.

My point is this: I’m kind of surprised we made it this far.

And I’m proud. And happy. Still, quite surprised. And I know I’m not alone in feeling that way. I’d love nothing more than a beautiful Patriots win, and I know they have the talent to pull it off. I won’t ever forget our recent amazing Super Bowl wins, I’m grateful for every single one and ready to add one more.

But, the Giants? Really? (insert exasperated whine here)

If there was a loss not worthy of experiencing, this is the one. I have enough New York sports loving friends to fill Gillette Stadium and Fenway combined. I can just feel them oozing with evil excitement at the notion of being able to rub it in my face if the Giants nab the big V here (again.) It wouldn’t be a one-time gloat-fest, rather years upon years worth of trash talk that, frankly, I’m not I’m the mood for.

I’ve already been hearing it nonstop since our beautiful undefeated season was crushed. We didn’t show up to play in that game and the Giants showed up with a vengeance and earned the glory. Still I don’t feel that, as time goes on, I deserve the gloat that keeps on giving. (shiver)

I try to be a chill winner and a calm loser. When my brother-in-law’s Ravens lost to the Pats just 2 weeks ago I didn’t smirk, sneer, jeer, or gleefully smoosh it in his face. No need. It was a tough, great game and he didn’t need to hear it. (You’re welcome, Ryan.)

Call me a sissy, but I enjoy the sport, not the trash talk.

(Unless of course we’re talking about Fantasy Football in which trash talk is my one and only specialty.)

If the Pats pull it off this weekend I intend to have the quiet, reserved happiness and inner peace that comes from my boys rocking it out big time. I’m keen for some Patriotic zen bliss.

But if they lose, I have several years of annoyance and already fragile friendships that I fear will deteriorate faster than a tooth in a cup of soda at the 4th grade science fair. Only because they won’t be able to let it go. And I like my friends, New Yawkahs or not, and am not keen to lose the game and them.

So if I may, I’d like to jump into the Pats pregame huddle. If I could, I’d ask in a gentle yet persistently pleading tone to please pull this one off for little ole me.

Belichick, can you light one under their arses for me? Can we ride the Gronk-powered wave of awesomeness, the Welker waves of ferverent speed, the strength of our amazing squad? Can I see Eli’s confused face followed by the big bottom lip pout I’ve come to love?

Can we get the big win that can ensure a good nights sleep filled with sweeter than sweet dreams? I plead, please win because I assume myself and my fellow Pats fans have bigger shit to tackle this year than a slew of Giant-sized egos.

Until next football season, that is…


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