This Year, I Resolve to Become a Giant’s Fan

aww poor Packers. haha NOT!

The Giants made the playoffs. And then they beat the Green Bay Packers. As a New York sports fan generally speaking, I know this was excellent news.

“The Gaints? That’s the team Eli Manning plays for, right? The ones in blue?” I shyly asked my friend Sarah, a diehard G-Men fan (apparently, diehard Giants fans call the Giants “G-Men”… a nickname that, if you ask me, sounds a lot like a bad Vegas boybandesque act…regardless, this was one of many things I’ve learned about football this weekend.)

“That’s a shame,” I replied. “Tom Brady is so dreamy.”

Tom Brady makes me want to be a football fan. Oh! If only he was one of the "G-Men"

I’ve never been a football fan. As the daughter of a former international rugby player, I grew-up believing real men don’t wear helmets and that real games are organic, ever-moving team endeavors. However, in 2012, I resolve to become a football fan… and here’s why:

Men dig girls who dig sports. And being a one-season sports fan is limiting…

“You follow baseball!?!”

The guy standing across from me on the Metro-North train couldn’t believe the suburban-bound girl in the  red heels and low-cut blouse was a die-hard Yankees fan. I couldn’t believe the handsome youngish-looking  guy lived in suburbgatory.

“Common, man! I have the MLB app!”

I quickly whipped-out my phone to prove it. The background picture of Jorge, my traveling Yankee garden gnome, only confirmed that I was legit.

We chattered back and forth for a few stops. He had just come from Yankee stadium and had watched our team loose a tragic game to the Rays, 1-5. I had just come from dinner in the West Village. He was slightly drunk and eager to convince me to skip my stop.

“It’s getting close to Fantasy Football time,” he eventually said. “I’ve just updated my NFL app.”

As he moved to pull out his iPhone, I sighed.

“Sorry. I don’t follow football.”

“You were a 10. I’ve just downgraded you to an 8.”

To me, an 8 rating was still pretty flattering, fantastic even, if not a bit inflated. I shrugged. It was my stop, and so, to much protestation, I bid him good night.

This is, like, totally gonna be me come next football season.

The baseball season is a long way off, the Rugby World Cup has come and gone and I’m now forced to take my pom-poms and move on to another season.

I’ve never cared for basketball. It’s just not one of those sports I can get behind with any sort of enthusiasm, feigned or genuine. I grew up the daughter of a Canadian, so hockey seems the most natural winter sport fit. The problem is I root for the Vancouver Canucks.

Luckily, I have a week to go shopping and start researching. If I’m going to watch the Giants take on the San Fransisco 49ers at a sports bar next weekend, I’d better have my number 10 jersey broken in, my NFL app loaded, my football lingo ready on the tip of my tongue, and my player stats uploaded to the little grey cells. Because this rookie QB is throwing for a touchdown…

Clash of the Titans: The Tea Room tackles the Man Cave on Super Bowl Sunday

Emma Woodhouse vs. Aaron Rodgers, who will reign victorous on Super Bowl Sunday?

Super Bowl Sunday: an American ritual, perhaps exceeded in food consumption and togetherness only by Thanksgiving. A day when people gather ’round a roaring wall fixture (flatscreen TV), consume large quantities of poultry products (buffalo wings), and give thanks (for the prowess of the quarterback throwing for their team du jour). I’m not much of a football fan, but even I am compelled to take part in the festivities.

But there are more things kicking-off on Super Bowl Sunday than a football game. Super Bowl Sunday is the first Sunday of the Masterpiece Theater month-long Jane Austen marathon.

Girls, grab your tissue boxes and get ready for some Austenian happy endings.

I always envision one house on Super Bowl Sunday hosting 2 parties — a his and a hers, an upstairs and a downstairs, the tea room versus the man cave.

This year, everyone is going to Tony and Lizzy’s. Their recent renovation and Lizzy’s kitchen skills are the big draws. Tony put his year-end bonus into refurbishing the basement. A 65″ plasma hdtv, a surround sound system, 3 leather lazy-boy recliners outfitted with built-in coolers, a fully-stocked mahogany bar and beer fridge.

Upstairs the tea room vs. downstairs the chicken wings

Lizzy is a caterer who is in business with Anne, a pastry chef. Lizzy’s mini pizzas and 2-bite empanadas are legendary, and tonight, she’s one-upped herself getting a spread ready for the boys. Anne is bringing the English-tea themed baked items for the girls while Lizzy has prepared some canapes. Scones and clotted cream, petite cucumber sandwiches, and the requisite tea cakes are all arranged on the living room coffee table, in front of the second television and built in fireplace.

Downstairs, the guys are ready to go. There’s 2 die-hard Steelers fan in the pack — one has painted his face, much to his wife’s chagrin, and the other brought his lucky game-day football, which none of the Green Bay fans are allowed to touch. Two of the other guys are Jets fans and are rooting for Green Bay out of spite. The final 2 don’t watch football, they’re hockey fans, but they both annually buy-in to their respective offices’ Super Bowl pool  — they root for whatever team gets them closer to winning part of the pot.

Luckily, there are no split loyalties among the girls upstairs. This year, PBS kicks off the Complete Jane Austen with all three parts of Emma. Everyone is on team Mr. Knightly. Swoon. Armed with their well-worn high school issued editions of the classic and several boxes of tissues, the ladies are ready to go.

At the end of the night, all the women get to go home winners (there’s nothing like a happy ending) while half the male contingent goes home with broken hearts…all the men go home with heart burn — too many mini empanadas.

As for me in the real world? I tuned into the game… but skim-read the novel during the commercials. Who says you can’t have your tight ends and Mr. Knightlys too?


Who says you can't have your tight ends and Mr. Knightlys too