Diary of a Giant Fan

As the final game-clock countdown chant by the fans begins, Harry Carson, in his usual fashion, sneaks over to the Gatorade bucket and cautiously moves in behind Parcells. Then, as in past Giant victories, the coach gets the bucket ceremoniously dumped over his head for the 16^th time this season. To Carson’s surprise, however, Parcells whips out a water gun and sends volleys of water (or was it Gatorade?) back at Carson. Young men, in what has to be the highlight of their sporting lives, up to now, are frolicking in the euphoria of victory. And what a treat to be a part of it as we, too, are caught up in this very emotional moment. This moment is magical.

Shivers race down my spine and ricochet back and forth in a continuous dance as tears of joy well in my eyes. We are going "to the show." And we are coming home, I am sure, with The Lombardi Trophy! I certainly am proud of this team.

This was truly a team effort, but there is no doubt that the defense, which has been truly outstanding all year, allowing only 236 points in 16 regular season games, and only 3 points in the two critical playoff games, should sit in the first class section of the plane bound for Pasadena, and be awarded everyone’s frequent flyer miles as well.

The total domination of the two playoff foes, by an unbelievable scoring margin of 66-3, coupled with our earlier season victory over the Denver Broncos, gives me the assurance that in two weeks this Giant team will handle John Elway and company in Super Bowl XXI.

As the handwritten words scratched out on the chalkboard in the Giant’s meeting room, prior to the game, so aptly stated, "Remember. This Is Our House." With the Giants going 10-0 here this year I think their opponents have gotten that message.

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In comes Scott Norwood, right at the edge of his range, for a 47-yard field goal attempt. He has been practicing his kicking into the net on the sideline in preparation for this moment. He is one for five on the season from grass for kicks over 40 yards. He has the wind at his back and if he is successful it will be the longest kick of his career on grass.

Reserve quarterback Frank Reich kneels down readying himself for the snap from center Adam Lingner. Parcells then calls a time out and will let Norwood think about the kick, the game, the Super Bowl Championship. It makes us think too. Some of the Giants on the sideline huddle on one knee, not wanting to look. Others stare in prayer. As I look to the Giant bench I notice Jeff Hostetler kneeling, looking out on the field, and I wonder what is going through his head at this moment. The game clock shows 8 seconds. The referee’s whistle calls time back in. The players take their stance, the ball is snapped, placed down, and kicked high and far into the night air. There is a sudden hush and then an explosion of cheers as the ball sails wide right by about two feet. We are the Super Bowl Champions once again, by a 20-19 score.

The Giant players burst into excited dancing, patting and hugging. My daughter and I embrace, remembering the tough years, especially when she was a little, but loyal Giant fan. The Giant fans high-five, hug and kiss their neighbors as tears of emotion sweep through the stands. I notice Hoss just getting up from his kneeling position to re-enter the field for the final snap and kneel down as the clock reads 4 seconds remaining. One player’s antics sticks out in my mind. I am sure everyone remembers Everson Walls, captured so well by Sports Illustrated, leaping time-after-time in the center of the field, flinging his arms in joy. Lawrence Taylor races to Parcells, hugs him and plants a kiss on his cheek. Steve DeOssie, acting more like a newsman than player, is capturing all the events around him with his camcorder. Parcells gladly accepts his Gatorade shower. Hostetler’s two children come down on the field and are picked up by their father. It is a delirious and glorious time