A Team to Believe in

In an act of spontaneity, 

I hitched a my heart to a plane 
and flew back east for Super Bowl weekend.

I had been vowing to do so, 

should our beloved Giants reach the culminating game of the football season.

Well, they did, and I made good on my promise to watch 

the game with family and friends on New York turf.

For me, a Giants win represents so much more than another notch on the scoreboard, 

or another statistic set in sports history.

I don’t necessarily understand every play made, 
but I don’t think you have to be a sports buff, to be a sports fan.   
People invest in their teams because they like believing in something. 
There is comfort in the camaraderie. 
I think that’s why so many people, 
unapologetically, love football most especially.

I will always, unabashedly cheer on Big Blue because of my dad.

Ever since my sisters and I were little girls, 
we knew what it meant to be a Giants fan, 
and that loyalty has been tested more so in the past four or five years. 

 image is my own

It’s loyalty to the team, but also, loyalty to our dad.

We know to expect agony on my dad’s face the morning after a loss. 

We can guarantee a mid-season heartbreak. 

We know to be patient, 
that Eli and his team will keep us crossing our fingers 

and shouting at the television well into the final minutes of the fourth quarter.

We know the child-like joy 
that creeps across his face when they win.

My dad is meticulous and measured on game days;  
lining up his souvenirs, arranging his footballs just so. 
There is a certain tone on game days.

And this superstitious spectatorship 
has crept into the conscious of my sisters and me too.

If ever there was a metaphor for my dad, his team, in my mind,  represents him to a tee.

A little shy. Stoic. 
A force that, made mistakes along the way, 
but righted wrongs and maintained composure. 
A team, that evokes hopeless devotion from the people that believe. 
My sisters and I cheer for the Giants because we’re daughters after our dad’s heart. 
We’ll emulate the game day rituals when we have daughters
 -or sons- of our own.
Deep in her heart, my older sister confessed, 
she knew they'd clinch the win. 
They had to- for dad, we unanimously agreed.

And they did.

Winners win.

xo