2008 Woodie Awards
As I See It
Dream come true for N.Y. fan
Dan McCallion
Issue date: 2/8/08 Section: Sports
Giants 17, Patriots 14. It happened. It actually happened.
This past Sunday night, I saw the New York Giants-MY New York Giants-win the Super Bowl. They beat the invincible Patriots, in the greatest Super Bowl of them all, in the most improbable fashion anyone could have ever dreamed. Did I ever think I would see it happen? Honestly, no. I always believed it could, I always hoped it might, but I never dared think that it would. The experience was so real, so visceral, that it is surely more than I could ever put into words, but I'll try.
I'm watching the game in a suite divided fairly between rabid Giants fans and those of all different loyalties, united under the anti-Giant banner. There's enough food and beer in the room to satiate a small country. The vibe is hopeful, but not overly confident. How can we be? It's always better to be cautious now than to be crushed later. Right?
It was three minutes before the half, and….f%$#. A tipped ball is intercepted by the Patriots as we were inside their 15-yard line. And yet….YES! That pressure I was talking about with other Giants fans leads to Brady getting hit and fumbling right before the half.
At halftime, it was still Pats 7, Giants 3. Time for a long, deep breath. My girlfriend walked in and I could barely look at her. I had long since stopped responding to the obnoxious haters spewing their insults from across the room. To say that tension is high is an understatement. The only saving grace is that Tom Petty played the halftime show, and he started with "American Girl." I love that song.
Now the third quarter's over. A chess match has ensued over field position, and I think we're winning it. Our defense played out of their minds, somehow getting to Brady time and time again. YES! Eli hits David Tyree-remember the name-for a touchdown. Eleven minutes left. Ten to 7, Giants. These were officially the longest 11 minutes of my life.
I'm sweating, living and dying with every play as Brady, cool as a cucumber, leads the Pats down the field. Six minutes. Those third-down stops we were getting before? They aren't happening any more. Three minutes…..NOOOO! Brady hits Moss in the corner of the end zone for a touchdown. 14-10, Pats. Two minutes, 42 seconds on the clock. That was it, the hammer blow. We're toast. Breathe, Dan, breathe.
This past Sunday night, I saw the New York Giants-MY New York Giants-win the Super Bowl. They beat the invincible Patriots, in the greatest Super Bowl of them all, in the most improbable fashion anyone could have ever dreamed. Did I ever think I would see it happen? Honestly, no. I always believed it could, I always hoped it might, but I never dared think that it would. The experience was so real, so visceral, that it is surely more than I could ever put into words, but I'll try.
I'm watching the game in a suite divided fairly between rabid Giants fans and those of all different loyalties, united under the anti-Giant banner. There's enough food and beer in the room to satiate a small country. The vibe is hopeful, but not overly confident. How can we be? It's always better to be cautious now than to be crushed later. Right?
It was three minutes before the half, and….f%$#. A tipped ball is intercepted by the Patriots as we were inside their 15-yard line. And yet….YES! That pressure I was talking about with other Giants fans leads to Brady getting hit and fumbling right before the half.
At halftime, it was still Pats 7, Giants 3. Time for a long, deep breath. My girlfriend walked in and I could barely look at her. I had long since stopped responding to the obnoxious haters spewing their insults from across the room. To say that tension is high is an understatement. The only saving grace is that Tom Petty played the halftime show, and he started with "American Girl." I love that song.
Now the third quarter's over. A chess match has ensued over field position, and I think we're winning it. Our defense played out of their minds, somehow getting to Brady time and time again. YES! Eli hits David Tyree-remember the name-for a touchdown. Eleven minutes left. Ten to 7, Giants. These were officially the longest 11 minutes of my life.
I'm sweating, living and dying with every play as Brady, cool as a cucumber, leads the Pats down the field. Six minutes. Those third-down stops we were getting before? They aren't happening any more. Three minutes…..NOOOO! Brady hits Moss in the corner of the end zone for a touchdown. 14-10, Pats. Two minutes, 42 seconds on the clock. That was it, the hammer blow. We're toast. Breathe, Dan, breathe.
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