I watched the Super Bowl in a Nursing Home. Pizza
with all the toppings in one hand, a bottle of Coke in the other, I
walked into my Dad's room, TV blaring pre-game chatter. Having had
surgery just days earlier, the meal was probably not what his Doctor
would order, but it was what "The Doctor" ordered on this Super Bowl
Sunday. Both of us huge New York Giants fans, it was he who gave to me
my love of sports, and yes, my love for the Giants.
Planted in
his black wheelchair with silvery spokes, seated to the right of his
bed and facing the TV, that chair his home on wheels now that he will
never walk again. Dad smiles when he sees me, a little extra sparkle in
his eyes when he sees the big white box and liquid refreshment, all the
while the thought of his beloved Giants in the Super Bowl dancing
behind those eyes.
I open the pizza box, and take out a slice,
placing it gently on one of the paper plates that came with the pizza.
It is still a few minutes before kickoff, and Dad slides the front
corner of the slice onto his eagerly awaiting taste buds. The cheese
keeps a stretched link between him and the slice as his hands pull the
piece towards his plate. I hope he chews the cheese well. When did the
child become the parent?
We have shared many moments watching the
Giants together, but this game is more special than the others. He is
not well, and this Giants roll has been a great release from the
suffering for both of us. That is one of the secrets of sports, and
that is why we enjoy them so much. A 3-hour vacation from what can be
harsh reality, to a place where we can scream, root and carry on
without worry... without fear.
We both happily chew on our pizza,
Dad then taking a slow sip of bubbling Coke from his plastic cup, the
brown liquid chasing down the sauce and pie crust. Not unlike younger
days when we suffered together through awful Giants teams. Then,
Lawrence Taylor, Bill Parcells, Phil Simms and company slowly brought
the team and its fans toward the light. Playoff losses to the Joe
Montana-led San Francisco 49ers, then the Chicago Bears. 1986 brought
the Giants their first Super Bowl, and us as fans a long-awaited reward
for our loyalty. 1990 would bring another.
Dad looks at the pie
with interest. I get up and pull out a second piece for him, and
without a word he goes to work on it with energy. A good sign. His
appetite is good today.
Who knows if this will be the last time
me and Dad share a Giants Super Bowl together, although I hope the
answer to that question has more to do with the mental and physical
health of Eli Manning than my Dad.
Kickoff is here, and so are
we. A story that has been played out throughout the years, all over the
world. Parent and child, the joy of sports, rooting... sharing. It's
going to be a great vacation.
