amusement,  new york

Superbowl Mania

I do not know much about the Giants, other than that they are a(n American) football team and they are blue. They are not smurfs; they’re rather a lot bigger than that. Some of them have flowing hair, I presume, as this seems to be a rather common feature of professsional football players. I know this because I live with a rabid Packers fan, though I admit I do not know any other kind of Packers fan.

I’ve personally never had the attention span to figure out football, as there’s rather a lot of short bursts of activity followed by a lot of reorganizing and standing about and then there’s the couches with their giant headphones and the guys in the cool striped shirts.

If I had to be involved with football (or, well, more involved than sitting in my living room at my spinning wheel while others watch and groan and cheer at appropriate moments, which I can never discern far enough in advance to join in like I might have an idea of what’s going on), I would want to be one of the people in the striped shirts, because I rather like stripes. They’re striking.

However, when the Giants do win, lots of rather unfashionable people put on these bizarre blue shirts and descend on my morning commute. They’re coming into Manhattan for a tickertape parade, which used to be something we did for minor events like V-E Day and visiting dignitaries, but now is used for sports heroes and the Saint Patrick’s Day parade (and lots of people who seem to think that celebrating Irish culture means wearing green face paint and getting ridiculously drunk and loud at three in the afternoon, which is exceedingly irritating). But I like watching the sports fans come in, because they seem to feel like they’re partially responsible for the victory. And, given by the amount of money that they clearly spent on their unfashionable shirts, maybe they are. They do spend the majority of the day blowing horns of some kind and yelling right outside my office window, but I am twenty floors up, so it is not nearly as bad as it could be.

So here’s to the sports fan, that totally alien (to me) creature – I love your enthusiasm. May we all feel so passionate about something.

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