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…