A Letter to New York Giants Fans

Dear Giants Fans,

I hope this letter finds you well, and that you're gearing up for a great Halloween, or whatever it is you like to do in the fall besides watching football.

I went to see the doctor and I'm in pretty good health, though I have to watch my red meat intake.  So anyway, it turns out that the stillness I have been experiencing, generally felt in the heart, is from this Giants season.

You see, I have a lot going on that I just don't have the time to worry about the Giants.  I don't have room enough in my life to be coiled with 1-6 anger.  Hey, believe me, I want to, but all I seem to be able to muster up on football Sunday is a general malaise.

I don't get it, I'm doing all the Giants rituals I would normally do during any given season.  I'm reading any article I can get my eyes on, I'm showing up at the TV precisely on time, and wearing the Mark Bavaro t-shirt...  Yet, nothing. Zip.  I'm a shell of my former Giants fan self.

Then it dawned on me last Monday night.  While watching New York trudge through their first victory of 2013, I realized like I was looking in a MetLife mirror.  I saw the dead look in the Giants' eyes, I saw my stillness reflected, and I knew then I was mimicking my favorite team.  I was putting out what they were giving me.

The Giants have been clomping through this season like zombies, as you very well know. Guys are either nicked, on injured reserve, or just plain zoned out. It's as if they are playing in a fog. Thin enough to see through, but thick enough that passes tip off hands, or fly right into the paws of a defensive lineman.  Where are the sacks?  I miss the sacks.

I'm surprised the analysts haven't fully written them off.  Some think they still have the ability to make a run, but the embers are running out on this season's fire.

Deep down I know I believe that they are good enough, but the point is it just doesn't seem like the Giants do.  And that's where it all lies.  Our superstitious rituals have been exhausted, Giants fans.  There's nothing more we can do to help.  No amount of rabbit's foot rubbing can right this ship.  It's up to the Giants, and the Giants alone, to believe they can find a good stick to start stoking that fire.

(Yawn), sorry, it's that malaise again.  I hope they find it soon.

Anyway, I have to go eat a veggie wrap now.  Take care, and say hey to your Giants friends for me.

Respectfully yours,
Skip Ardo