A Giant week

This past week was a banner one for me as a lifelong lover of Big Blue.

Some of you already know that I am a huge Giants fan. The oftentimes frustrating, sometimes exhilarating preoccupation was instilled in me from an early age by my father. My dad grew up going to the games in the Polo Grounds in Northern Manhattan with his buddies. I grew up going to the Meadowlands with him.

When the Meadowlands was built my Dad and a group of his friends became season ticket holders. They secured a block in section 112 – row 22. Pretty good seats, I must say. Sometimes we’d pick up a pair of seats from one of the group that couldn’t make a particular game and our whole family would go. We’d drive through the city on the way home and eat dinner at Gallagher’s Steak House. A truly perfect Sunday. But most of the time we had just two tickets. Absolutely no gender discrimination in our household, my brother and I alternated home games.

A stellar example of my father’s even-handedness on this particular matter was the methodology used to determine Traynor attendance of the 1986 Playoffs. It had been an amazing year for the Giants. We only had to win one game against San Fransisco to get to the National League Championship game. My brother and I were sat down for a conference in the living room and my father explained, “We only have two tickets to the 49ers game. I can bring one of you. Whoever goes is guaranteed to see a playoff game. If we win that game I will take the other of you to the next game. But there is no guarantee that will happen. You two think about it for a minute and tell me what you want to do.”

I didn’t have to think. There was no question in my mind the Giants were going all the way. I wanted to be at that Championship Game. Inconveniently, Brendan felt exactly the same way.

“Ok, who wants to go to the San Fran game?”

Silence.

“No one?”

Silence.

“You both understand that passing this game up means you may not get to go to one at all?” We did. “Ok. We flip a coin.”

My brother was ok with this plan until I emerged victorious two minutes later. Cries of foul play flew through the air. My brother pointed out that as a member of our high school's football team, he should be given weighted advantage. I, afterall, had never even played a game in my life and never would. I was just a girl. This was not right.

I'm sure my father agreed with Brendan on many levels, but God love him, fair was fair and I went to that eventual Championship game. The Giants shut out the Redskins 17 - 0, and to this day, that game was the most thrilling event I have ever attended in my life (ok, maybe a close second to my wedding). It should be noted for context, I went to the Super Bowl in 1998 down in Miami. No where near as exciting. There were no fans in the stands. Just corporate sponsors. Not so back at that Redskins game where the entire stadium was packed with season ticket holders. The wave went around the stadium continuously for the entire three hours. Strangers high-fived. Face painters cried. No one cared that their feet were frostbitten and they would have to sit in traffic for three hours to get out of the parking lot. (By the way, this amazing team went on to beat the Broncos 39-20 a couple of weeks later in Super Bowl XXI).

My brother and I are very close. But to this day, when that game gets brought up, Brendan repeats his true belief, "That wasn't right."

Fast forward to the 2007 season. I admit, I started out with a faint heart. We had lost Tikki, and there was no reason to believe our shortcomings from last year would not continue to haunt us: an inconsistent quarterback not living up to his last name, a Coach known for harsh discipline overseeing one of the most penalized teams in the league and a cast of larger than life personalities who seem to air their disagreements in the media instead of the locker room.

I am now filled with remorse for my lack of faith. I know it's dangerous to get optimistic - this is just about the point in the season when we imploded last year. But I'm feeling good. We've won six in a row and we're just back from London where we were treated like rock stars. We're headed into a bye week after which we play Dallas, the only team in front of us in the NFC. A sign of changing times, Jeremy Shockey, freshly shorn, is even starting to look like a grown up.

For me personally, this past week in particular was indeed a Giant week in every sense of the word. I went to last week's game against San Fran and got on the jumbotron. First time ever and so exciting! I was on the big screen coming back from the commercial break with about 7:23 left in the third quarter. If you watched the game on TV, I was the one in the white hooded sweater screaming, "Go Giants!"

Then last Tuesday I had one of the coolest experiences I've had in a long time (and remember, I was hooked up to a morphine drip for two days this past March). I participated in a corporate boondoggle in which I got to go hang out with a small group of fellow corporate geeks at the Meadowlands and play a game of touch football (I observed) and eat dinner with a bunch of former Giants players. Old school guys - some of whom were playing during that famous 86 season. How cool is that!? These guys were so much fun. They were hilariously funny and easy going and having free reign at Giants Stadium was a thrill. Here are some pictures.

Touchdown!

Doesn't seem like it would be so hard to get the ball through here...

On the 50

Dee Hardison warming up for the game.

Just hangin on the side lines with my buddies Scott Brunner, Howard Cross and Dee Hardison.

On the jumbotron - second time in less than a week!

I had the most hilarious conversation with Chris Calloway who casually dropped some tid bit about something he had seen on The View that day. I looked at him and said, "You watch The View?" He kind of shrugged his shoulders and said yes he did. I asked him what he thought of the Rosie controversy. Well, he went on a 10 minute critical overview of hosts and which ones were his favorites. He was going back to Star Jones days. This guy is a fan. Whoopie is ok by him, by the way. And in case anyone was wondering, Chris reports Elizabeth has left to go have her baby in Arizona.

Howard Cross was by far the biggest character there. Totally hilarious. This is the face he made at me after another corporate geek had just told him he had so much fun playing in the game with him and how it was the most exercise he had gotten in years because he's under doctor's orders not to exercise. Cross told him to stop talking. (That's Eric Dorsey in the background)

Me and Scott Brunner, Howard Cross and Stephen Baker

Me and Scott Brunner, Dee Hardison and Karl Nelson.

Conflict of interest

Just some forewarning (advance lame excuse?). As though I haven't been late enough with my Bachelor recaps (I was so much more prompt when blogging and brain surgery recovery were my only two jobs), I will be experiencing a scheduling difficulty tonight that will likely delay the recap yet again. My Giants are playing Monday Night Football. Sorry to say I will be watching them - not Brad Womack. If Solisa were still on I might have the priorities the other way 'round, but alas, I'd rather watch Manning, Burress, Shockey, Ward, Jacobs, Strahan, Kiwanuka and Umenyiora than Stephy, Deanna, Jenni, McCarten, Hillary, Sheena, Kristy, Bettina and Jade.

"I'm a Christian. Can't you tell by these?"

Again, I'm really late with The Bachelor write up. I'm really sorry. I do have a good excuse this time. This week I was busy battling my first post-brain-surgery head cold. Word to the wise: try not to get a head cold for at least a year following skull contact with the business end of a bone-saw. It wasn't fun. Now that the sinus drama is over, let The Bachelor drama ensue...

First let me comment on the brilliant strategy ABC seems to be employing to increase viewership. They are clearly endeavoring to capture the males in viewing households by recruiting sluttier girls. It seems to be working on Terence.

The girls in the first group date couldn't stop playfully slapping each other with those riding crops, and the second group immediately began their string bikini/pole dancer fashion show the minute they heard they were going to the beach with Brad. More on the beach date/Channel J audition in a moment.

First, let's discuss The Fall. The scream sound effect could not have been more fake. But it did underscore the fact that we were in for some high impact melodrama. The stretcher. The medivac. The tears. Let's find out what the Bach thinks. He's been busy at the racetrack with the riding crop girls...

Just a quick pause before bringing Brad into the medical emergency: a timeout for a random drive-by visit from San Diego Charger Line Backer Shawn Phillips. What the $#%@? No attempt to provide context or any sort of explanation for why he's at the racetrack, what interest or relevance he could possibly have to The Bachelor and/or why Brad should listen. I'm puzzled by this non sequitur until I remember the objective to increase male viewership. Slutty girls, bikinis and NFL players. Genius.

Back to the girl in the stretcher. Brad receives a dramatic phone call. He seems unable to place a face with the voice. He tells the other girls, "One of the ladies slipped down the stairs and has a mild concussion." Someone must have held up a cue card off camera because he followed up with quick clarification: "It was Michele. From New Jersey." McCarten is so filled with compassion that she wants to know, "Wait. So she has a concussion and she's able to call you?" That McCarten, she sees what's going on here. Images of Bevin's ankle "injury" propelling her to the final two race through McCarten's mind.

Clever girl, she immediately asks for one-one-one time which interrupts Brad as he scans his memory to try and come up with what in the hell Michele from New Jersey looks like. McCarten plants one on him, which God bless him, Brad admits was awful. And he can't stop laughing as he says so. I am afraid my friend may have been right when she rushed to judgement about Brad's lack of intellectual power, however, his goofiness is starting to grow on me.

Hillary provides some commentary from behind the scenes and it quickly becomes apparent that she's on speed. Or has a serious caffeine addiction. Every other word was "frickin'!" (spelled with an "in' exclamation point"). I hope she gets booted quickly because as a cynical New Yorker, I can't abide by such gratuitous exertion of energy.

I don't know what to say about the bikini fashion show. Ri-DI-cu-lous. (Of course, it was Terry's favorite segment.) While mild-concussion-Michele-from-New-Jersey leaned forward to check out a particular pole dancing outfit, I noticed she must be the same Michele I tagged as needing a colorist in the last rose ceremony (the back of her head was taupe). Once I saw the front it was hard to ignore the stripes. I think she must have gotten one of those do-it-yourself highlight shower cap jobbies. Not a good look. And now that she has that neck injury, I don't think a proper colorist can help her.

On to the beach group date. Underwritten by the producers of the "Girls Gone Wild" videos available by mail order on late night cable.

I can't sum up my reaction to Solisa's shameless body shot ploy any better than Bettina's comment, "Seeing Brad do the body shot off Solisa was really hard for me to watch. I was like, 'Oh my God, I think I'm going to throw up. So gross.'" However, the pure entertainment line of the night was when Solisa then went on to explain to Brad that she's a Christian, and she has strong morals. God made her body, so she's comfortable with it. Later in the night she further demonstrated her strong faith by stripping off her top and going skinny dipping. It was hard to deny... she has a nice set of morals.

Jenni gets the first real kiss. There she goes, fanning the fires again. Hillary-I'm-on-speed thinks Jenni is only here to advance her career. (Career? As a stripper?)

Jenni's comment on her one-on-one time indicates her narrow view of topics available for discussion: "We just talked about everything in the whole wide world." They were upstairs for four minutes. They were kissing for three of them. Quite the conversationalists.

On to the rose ceremony. Aside from the medical drama, reflections of Bevin abound. There is another secret divorce. Looking forward to watching that unfold.

During the table top booty shaking competition, did anyone else notice Michele trying to discretely haul her boob back into her dress? 47 minutes and 25 seconds in for those who wish to review the tape (in line with ABC's male viewership strategy, I'm employing NFL language.)

By far, my favorite line of the evening came from Erin, "I came out here to find true love and I meet this beautiful man and just when my faith in relationships was beginning to be restored, I find myself out in the parking lot." At this point, Terence pointed out that if you're really trying to restore your faith in relationships, you probably shouldn't go on TV and prostrate yourself. (Good job, ABC. Pull them in with bikinis. Keep them guessing with NFL player appearances. Make it impossible for them to turn away with train wreck dialogue.)

Can't wait for next week when we get to witness "The most shocking cocktail party ever." Although there was no indication that bikinis would be involved, even Terence got a kick out of that hyperbole.

By the way, if you stuck around till after the credits, you got to see more slutty antics. But the more interesting insight from this little kitchen conversation was the proof that the scream from Michele's fall down the stairs was indeed a sound effect placed in later. No scream after Solisa's naughty-Brad-slap demonstration, although that's where it occurred when shown earlier in the show. I'm shocked that there would be any dramatization.