Let it be known that I am Jets fan. However, hailing from New Jersey, I have many, many friends and family who are Giants fans. After the Giants' victory over the San Francisco 49ers in the NFC Championship Game, I wrote this as a gift to them:
Twas the Night of the Super Bowl
Twas the night of the Super Bowl, and all throughout Boston,
The fans of the Patriots found themselves lost in
A state of confusion, depression, a rut.
“Why are these Giants kicking our butt?!”
Drowning their sorrows, they reached for the booze,
As Eli threw another deep touchdown to Cruz.
Their pain was unbearable. They shouted, “No more!”
But still, the Giants continued to score.
On Brandon! On Bradshaw! On Manningham! On Nicks!
On Beckum! On Ballard! On Tynes with the kicks!
And if the Pats’ defense made their fans go mad,
The Patriots offense was thrice as bad.
The running game was stuffed, their passing was sunk.
There was no sign of the man they called Gronk.
“Get a walker for Welker!,” the Giants joked as they laughed.
Even young Woodhead was getting the shaft.
The hero they nicknamed “Tom Terrific”
Performed fall short of his legend prolific.
His passes were weak, and to make matters worse,
They cancelled the bus and called him a hearse!
The Pats’ eyes grew wider, their jaws grew slack.
Their golden boy, Brady, lied flat on his back.
Over and over, he was thrown in the muck
By large men named Jason, Osi and Tuck.
Then, back in New England, at parties and raves,
In pubs and in clubs and in fancy man caves,
Fans used all their might to hold back the tears.
They grumbled and mumbled, “We’ll get them next year.”
And back in New York, the crowds shouted, “Oh, please!
You can keep your Brady, your Rodgers, your Brees!
Eli is elite! We knew he was right!
The Giants are champions this Super Bowl night!!”