Being born in 1985 and obviously not completely cognizant for the 1986 Super Bowl, my first big Giants memory came in 1990. My family and I were at Super Bowl party at my Uncle (I use the term loosely as there is no familial relation) Mark’s house. Two things stand out in my mind about that night: Scott Norwood missing a 47 yard field goal wide right and my dad chasing the man who broke into his car and stole the radio down the street for three blocks. Obviously the Giant victory trumped everything. That works as a good analogy for my Sundays (and sometimes Mondays, Thursdays and Saturdays) for the past 20 years. When the Giants win, it was a good day. When they lose… not so much. For better or worse I’m emotionally linked to Big Blue. Even through some of the middling teams of 1990’s, Tyrone Wheatley’s narcolepsy, Ike Hilliard and the dreaded turf toe, the Danny Kanell era; I have always been a huge Giants fan. It made the good times even better. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
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