I am a New York Football Giants Fan.
As I write this I'm shaking from all the booze and greasy shit food I consumed yesterday slowly working its way out of my system, as I have most Mondays since football season started.
For those of you who understand, and are reading this in the same state I'm writing it, I know you feel my pain and appreciate the struggle. For those of you who do not, who spent yesterday in Church or being productive human beings, I want to explain Sunday Funday to you, through the eyes of a die hard football fan.
The first day of football season is equivalent to Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, the birth of your first born child, what have you, to us fans. It's a glorious, magical day when you don your favorite jersey and resume rituals that have laid dormant since that bitter, sad, last day of football in January (or February depending on how far your team made it...remember I'm a Giants fan, I'm used to the January pity party). It's a game of inches, a game of pride, a game of screaming at the TV like a fucking lunatic for both the good and the bad. For every person or group of people its different. So here's what Sunday Funday is for myself and my football family, as we call ourselves.
For at least 16 weeks out of every year we try and take it easy on Saturday nights in order to fully enjoy our Sundays. For years we've all been gathering at the same place, South Side Inn in our town (although recently renamed The Mahopac Inn, it's still the same home away from home on Sundays and will always be South Side to us, deal with it). One or two of us will get there early and procure our section, move together a handful of tables, and wait patiently for the family to trickle in. Our family is a diverse group, made up of men and women, fans from all over the league, and every gathering is worth it's weight in liquid gold. The bar knows us, they know what to expect, they know we will be the loudest, most disruptive, and most fun group of assholes in jerseys at the bar on Sunday. About halfway into the first quarter almost everyone is there and the insanity begins.
From the first kickoff to the end of the last game the bar air is filled with a chorus of four letter words and screaming, high fives and clapping, the clinking of glasses, slamming of tables, an occasional chair gets tossed (Rachel, I'm looking at you on this one), friendly and not so friendly shit talking, and the blaring commentary of the announcers; it's the unmistakable mating call of the football fan. Every game we go hard, we milk every minute for as much as we can. We average a pitcher a quarter, if the Giants are doing well, we'll take a shot or two, if they are doing shitty, a shot or two, if the game is over, a shot or two, because reasons, a shot or two. The wing and shrimp cocktail specials soak up the alcohol along with pretzels, burgers, the newly added, and fucking delicious, buffalo calamari. Keep your gourmet food and your organic bullshit, on Sunday Funday it's all about the loading up on as many calories and fried food as we can handle before heading home.
Our family is a good one, and a welcoming one. Even if your an awful Cowboys fan, we will allow you sit with us, or maybe the better word is tolerate. Also, I finally found a girlfriend who can hang and get into the psychosis that is our family's gathering, which she got to see in full swing yesterday. Instead of running out screaming, she joined in on the fuckery, it warmed my blue blooded little heart. That being said there have been a plethora of significant others from everyone who make an appearance once and only once, some people just cant handle the awesomeness, and that's their loss. I guess I can't really blame them, like I said it does get pretty crazy more often than not and it takes a special type of person to appreciate it. For example: the year we beat the 49er's and got into the Superbowl (where we beat the empire of evil, The Patriots, for the SECOND time) I jumped up, fists in the air in celebration and punched a running ceiling fan, spraying the bar with pieces of wood and dust that has probably been there since they opened. Thankfully everyone was too happy to care and thought it was hilarious. It hurt like a bitch but fuck it, that was an EPIC win, the victory shots numbed pain. They completely removed it after that, one less fan moving around the smells of beer breath and wings, oh well; RIP ceiling fan.
It's not just about football though, and what a lot of anti-sports fans fail to see is that its a reason to get together with a bunch of fun and awesome people for a few hours each week and enjoy each others company. We call ourselves a family because deep down it really feels that way. I'm talking years, people, years we've gathered to watch these games. Sure some have come and gone, I was even absent for almost an entire season because other obligations; and I felt guilty every Sunday, like I missed my weekly visit to see my illegitimate child to let him know I'm here for him as I slipped him a twenty so he liked me better than his mom. But seriously, it's part of who I am, it gives me something to look forward to every week, something to talk about, a place to go, a reason to get together with friends, and win or lose, we always have a blast. I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. South Side really is my home away from home on Sundays. The only game we watch elsewhere is the Superbowl, where we all gather at my buddy Greg's house and watch the game and go completely fucking ape shit. There's catering, beer, liquor and huge TV, and a goddamn awesome time. We literally move the bar to his house for just that one game, a big part of our family tradition. A perfect way to wrap up the football season. But, even though we move the party for a night, somehow we always end up stopping by South Side at the end of the game. Whether half of us remember it or not we do it; for one last drink in our family's favorite retreat, one last hoorah, before we close the curtains on another season, and anxiously anticipate September, to start the fuckery all over again.
OK I think I'm going to cry just thinking about it...
GO GIANTS!!!
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