New York Giants football has become a cultural part of my family’s life. We have rules about how to behave during games, and those rules apply to visitors. No transgressions allowed!
My living room, where my two sons and I sit, is sacred ground. We forbid anyone occupying that space to be anything but supportive in our quest for a Giants victory.
If not, we shun them. Not intentionally, but it’s impossible to be sociable to anyone who stops by uninvited when the Giants are playing and doesn’t know the unwritten rules of being a Giants fan.
They’re not required to be a Giants fan, but they can’t openly root for the team they’re playing against. If the Giants are losing, no one talks. It’s impossible to concentrate on anything one might say when the Giants are losing. My wife can attest to that.
Giants playing at old Yankee Stadium (photo courtesy NY Times)
One time when the Giants were losing to the Cowboys and were making a comeback only to lose, I agreed to wallpaper the bathroom the following Sunday to quiet her. (It was before she knew the rules.)
No one says after an interception. If someone asks that question, an explanation only adds more stress to watching the Giants than necessary.
No one can say, “It’s okay, they’ll win next week.” Giants’ fans take no solace in next week. If the Giants lose, next week doesn’t happen until next week. A Giants’ loss can’t begin to feel better until at least just before the game next week.
No one laughs when the Giants lose. My in-laws stopped by during a game early in our marriage. My mother-in-law laughed at how upset I was over a silly game. I took it personally at the time and felt how cruel she was that she couldn’t feel my pain. I’ve since forgiven her for her sin.
Jason Dart on the run vs. Vikings in 2025 (photo courtesy NY Giants on SI)
It’s impossible for me not to think what it could or should have been until a day or two before the next game. When it comes to what I feel I can or can’t control in life, I try to follow a pragmatic view. But a bad call by a referee or a dropped pass by the Giants receiver, or something I know I can’t change or control, negates my normal way of thinking.
When the Giants win, the elation doesn’t last very long. It quickly fades as we anticipate the next opponent. Are they a good team? Are we home or away? Were there any serious injuries that could keep key players out of the game? All these considerations play into the vanishing effect Giants’ victories generate.
Here’s the thing: I can’t help myself because I’m trapped in the “Angst of the Giants Blue.”
