On being at peace with fandom

What a turnaround the Giants have had. It's hard to believe that less than two months ago, this same team suffered two consecutive "rock bottom" losses to the Colts and Titans. Since then, they've looked dominant and almost unstoppable.

I have no good transition here, so I'll just say this is where I shift the focus to my own fandom. I have a self-created problem that I've never had in any other sport. I've been a Yankees fan since I was a young child, when they were awful. I never strayed. I don't really have an NBA team or a hockey team. And I have not much more than a passing interest in college sports. However, when it comes to the NFL, after having dated three teams over the course of my life, I still didn't feel quite right about calling myself a Giants fan. I didn't feel like I had earned it. Until this weekend.

First, some background. You'll recall here over two years ago when I pledged my full allegiance to the Giants. Re-reading it now, I don't even like my tone there - too much negativity about the Jets, rather than what I liked about the Giants.

The team of my childhood was the Giants. In 1990 they captivated me at age 9 with what was, until January 2008 of course, the greatest Super Bowl ever. I vaguely recall awareness of the 49ers-Bengals Super Bowl being on TV two years earlier, but this was the first sporting event I vividly remember watching. But then Bill Parcells retired, the Giants had some down years, and I began to look elsewhere. I flirted with the team of my father and grandfather, the Steelers. And quite honestly I'll always have a soft spot for them, thanks mostly to that side of my family, and to watching NFL Films make the Steelers dynasty of the 70s appear magical and larger than life. I was genuinely happy for them when they won Super Bowls XL and XLIII. In 1997, I came over to the Jets with Parcells. I thought it was okay at the time. I didn't ask any fellow Giants fans about it - or maybe I didn't want to know - but that's what I did. I had great years with the Jets. Curtis Martin is still my favorite player of all time, and I don't regret the time I spent rooting for him. But when Curtis retired, and the joyless Eric Mangini era began, I knew my time was finished there. They weren't really my Jets anymore. The change didn't happen overnight, but when they jettisoned Chad Pennington for the ol' Dongslinger, that tipped the scale for good.

Anyway, back to my realization. It began on Friday, when I presented my lady friend with a series of complicated options on how we could juggle visits to both our parents' houses but not miss the Giants-Seahawks game. (This wasn't really so she wouldn't miss the game...this was so I wouldn't miss the game.) I then realized, if I care this much about not missing a single snap of this game, I truly deserve to believe I'm a fan without feeling unworthy. I'm living it.

Sure, you can go through photos of me over the years, and see me wearing apparel for three different teams. But I'm okay with it now. This is about the present. Don't be afraid to love again! (Okay, so maybe I couldn't help but gay it up just a little.)

And on another poorly transitioned note, I wouldn't be surprised if Super Bowl XLII - again, the greatest victory in the history of sports - creates an entire generation of Giants fans the way the mid to late 1970s created an entire generation of Steelers fans. Super Bowl XLII was that powerful for me, and I was 26. If that's your first strong memory of football as a lad of maybe 8 or 9 years, how can you not love that?