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!!”
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