Normally I don't get excited for them. They aren't like the Red Sox, who I live and die by every year. No, I've had more dissapointments with my New York Football Giants then I've ever had with anything else in my entire fucking life, and therefore I place no faith in them, ever. All of us fans, we're all the same when it comes to that.
But now... finally, I'm starting to get that itch.
Stephen A. Smith: "So Plax, can I get a prediction from you?"
Plaxico Burress: "Well Stephen, we gon' bring that thang home to New York City on Sunday night, don't you worry..."
Don't fuck with me, Plax. I'm ready for a letdown. I'm ready for a three- interception, 38-point-blowout horrific loss where the Giants fold up like they always do when shit comes down to it. Don't be leadin' me on brother, I can't take any more heartbreak from you motherfuckers.... no more last minute field goals that beat us, no more failed onside kicks, no more season-opening 75 yard runs by Emmit Smith that sink our year, no more Dave Browns, no more Ray Handleys, no more 18 years without the playoffs, NO FUCKIN' MORE. Don't patronize us Plaxico. We know how you guys are.
But alas.... I will be there cheering. I will be hoping and praying, and I will barely be able to watch the fourth quarter, no matter what the score. And there will always be a part of me that hopes that you fuckers can pull through, and deliver the impossible. I saw my Red Sox do it against the greatest odds any team has ever faced; they make the Giants' path seem like a cakewalk.
Help me remember Plax, that nothing's impossible, and that there is always hope. And I bet if you win, Plax, Jessica Simpson will suddenly be all about the Lousiana blacksnake, if you know what I mean... and that alone would make it worth it.