Meet me in the Land of Hope and Dreams

Sunday marks the beginning of another Giants season, although I’m hoping this one might be a bit different. Yes, I hope the team sniffs the playoffs (and hopefully more). But another wish I have is that Jack gets interested and wants to watch the games with me. He says he does, but if he looks out the window five minutes before game time and sees a slug on the front steps, all bets are off.

My dad liked sports, and he watched some with me, but it was never any sort of bonding experience. He didn’t care about the Giants, hated the Yankees, and usually had something better to do than immerse himself in a team or any players. Maybe he knew the heartache that was involved when attaching oneself emotionally to a bunch of strangers that didn’t know he was alive.

The Giants play the Panthers this week. When Jack heard them talking about the Giants-Carolina game on the radio, he thought it was the Tar Heels and said excitedly, “ Oh no! Who will we cheer for?”

By Sunday at 4 p.m., I hope he knows the difference and that we never root against the Giants.

Ever.

And I also hope we are celebrating the first step of a long march to the playoffs...