erod
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As we neared the stadium down Randol Mill, a familiar sense of doom hung in the AC-blasting air inside my SUV.
Call it a learned flinch mechanism, sewn into the fabric of all too many disappointing gamedays in recent memory. Habit brought me to pan over the fans walking up to the Jerry's gargantuan footballplex, and look for every Eli, Cruz, and JPP jersey on display. Were these the same people that laughed at us after we lept for joy last year? Only to see Dez's fingerprints stain the white line for replay to discover seconds later?
But the closer I got, the more I noticed, "Where are all the Giants fans?" Oh, they were there, but not quite the same number, and not with the same knowing cocky looks on their faces. These were purposeful walks, as in, "let's just get to our seats and see how this goes."
Meanwhile amidst a rocking row of tailgating partying....there was a collective buzz in a sea of blue Dez jersies. He's definitely led the team in offseason jersey sales, as well as a growing number of Sean Lees. I mean, there was a constant volume in the air that filled the parking lot. It had flavor.
Optimism overflowed into the streets and smell, and not just because it was the first game. Cowboys fans carried on as if they were about to attend the first prelim of a Usain Bolt meet. So long as the Cowboys didn't pull up lame, this was a cruise-control night ahead.
I, of course, wasn't buying it. Yes, I predicted big stuff last week behind this very keyboard, but getting whacked in the forehead with a 2x4 too many times started giving me that awful twitch. Visions of the last three Giants game here began riverdancing on my brainpan. Surely, not again.
Inside, there was definitely a buzz, but I could tell I wasn't the only one having second thoughts. Giants fans began filing in around me. You can't help but notice them, just champing their bits to go all "Yo, Adrian" on us the first chance they got.
Not only did they not, Cowboys fans gave it to them, and good. With every turnover, and every 1-yard run, heads sank deeper into hands. Even the two big plays were too fluky for the interlopers to get too northeast cocky. They understood what they were seeing, in their hooked-on-phonics sort of way.
Drama came late and unannouced. Certainly not welcomed, and yes, we puckered up a bit in moment of here-we-go-again. A three-and-out offered relief for a moment, only to kick it back to New York and be in the same predicament again with 2:41 left. Giants fans sat giddy, but still unsure, and just as nervous as us. No trashtalking right now. Way too much nervous tension for that. 31-30? Good lord, please no. Not another fingernail on the chalk.
Tip. Carr. House. Hysteria. We went nuts. High fives and hugs.
Then as it calmed....where'd they go? Giants fans had hit the exits.
I got to my truck - my new truck - to find my side mirror bent back with the molding hanging. No doubt the low-character response of a typical northeastern bum. Dealer fixed it under warranty, which was cool, but there does remain a scratch, and this is a high-end vehicle I paid too many bones for.
This scratch, however, doesn't bother me that much. It's faint, and it will forever whisper of that great game on a great night, which hopefully became a great season to remember.
Call it a learned flinch mechanism, sewn into the fabric of all too many disappointing gamedays in recent memory. Habit brought me to pan over the fans walking up to the Jerry's gargantuan footballplex, and look for every Eli, Cruz, and JPP jersey on display. Were these the same people that laughed at us after we lept for joy last year? Only to see Dez's fingerprints stain the white line for replay to discover seconds later?
But the closer I got, the more I noticed, "Where are all the Giants fans?" Oh, they were there, but not quite the same number, and not with the same knowing cocky looks on their faces. These were purposeful walks, as in, "let's just get to our seats and see how this goes."
Meanwhile amidst a rocking row of tailgating partying....there was a collective buzz in a sea of blue Dez jersies. He's definitely led the team in offseason jersey sales, as well as a growing number of Sean Lees. I mean, there was a constant volume in the air that filled the parking lot. It had flavor.
Optimism overflowed into the streets and smell, and not just because it was the first game. Cowboys fans carried on as if they were about to attend the first prelim of a Usain Bolt meet. So long as the Cowboys didn't pull up lame, this was a cruise-control night ahead.
I, of course, wasn't buying it. Yes, I predicted big stuff last week behind this very keyboard, but getting whacked in the forehead with a 2x4 too many times started giving me that awful twitch. Visions of the last three Giants game here began riverdancing on my brainpan. Surely, not again.
Inside, there was definitely a buzz, but I could tell I wasn't the only one having second thoughts. Giants fans began filing in around me. You can't help but notice them, just champing their bits to go all "Yo, Adrian" on us the first chance they got.
Not only did they not, Cowboys fans gave it to them, and good. With every turnover, and every 1-yard run, heads sank deeper into hands. Even the two big plays were too fluky for the interlopers to get too northeast cocky. They understood what they were seeing, in their hooked-on-phonics sort of way.
Drama came late and unannouced. Certainly not welcomed, and yes, we puckered up a bit in moment of here-we-go-again. A three-and-out offered relief for a moment, only to kick it back to New York and be in the same predicament again with 2:41 left. Giants fans sat giddy, but still unsure, and just as nervous as us. No trashtalking right now. Way too much nervous tension for that. 31-30? Good lord, please no. Not another fingernail on the chalk.
Tip. Carr. House. Hysteria. We went nuts. High fives and hugs.
Then as it calmed....where'd they go? Giants fans had hit the exits.
I got to my truck - my new truck - to find my side mirror bent back with the molding hanging. No doubt the low-character response of a typical northeastern bum. Dealer fixed it under warranty, which was cool, but there does remain a scratch, and this is a high-end vehicle I paid too many bones for.
This scratch, however, doesn't bother me that much. It's faint, and it will forever whisper of that great game on a great night, which hopefully became a great season to remember.
