A Little Bet I Made…

I work with a guy who is a rabid fan of the Dallas Cowboys. He was obnoxious about it all season long. Truly obnoxious. This guy would come in, week in and week out, walking into the room with arms spread out wide, as if expecting a heap of praise for his team, which actually struggled all season long, and ultimately got eliminated by the Giants in the final week of the season. He always expected a reaction, and even admits to being cocky.

            The recent run in the postseason by the New York Giants was like torture to him. He kept making bets, and then losing. The more bets he lost, and the more he had to embarrass himself by wearing a Giants jersey for an entire day at work, or by proclaiming their undying greatness, admitting that they were a better team to the Dallas Cowboys on speaker phone to a woman coworker and Giants fan.

            Now, I am not by nature a betting man, yet still, admittedly, I began to want in on the action. My confidence in the Giants was soaring, and at the risk of sounding quite cocky and overconfident myself, I absolutely expected the Giants to win it all once this playoff run began to strongly resemble the 2007-2008 campaign, admittedly. I kept insisting that we should make a bet, but he insisted that he was "done".

            Yet, he came in just days before the Super Bowl, and he and a coworker were musing on the terms of a bet that they had made, where he would be
taking" this guy to the Giants parade that follows Super Bowl victories for any team in their home cities. Apparently, this guy had yielded to temptation, and given in. I asked again if he wanted to make a bet, and he said no. Puzzled, I wondered what I was doing wrong, and then tried a different approach, offering my terms very specifically: he would have to do the trademark Victor Cruz salsa while wearing a Giants jersey. He stopped in his tracks – I could almost see the machinery working in his head – and then he said it sounded good. He thought of his terms for me, and told me that he wanted. I would have to download a picture of his choice on Facebook, with a post in which I would state that his favorite team was the greatest team in the world.

            Later on, we added something to that bet. He was trying to prove how important the Dallas Cowboys were while dissing the Giants simultaneously, and described how, when you go to Applebee's, the best and biggest, most badass sandwich you can order is the "Cowboy". So, I laughed and asked him if his team had been so far removed from their glory days that he is reduced to trying to score points by referring to the name on a menu of a chain restaurant, rather than what his team actually did on the field. He left the room. He seemed to do that often lately, whenever someone seemed to get on him about the Giants.

            When he came back later on, I offered to sweeten the bet a little more. If the Patriots beat the Giants in the Super Bowl, I would buy him that sandwich, and bring it to him for lunch someday. If, on the other hand, the Giants won, he would have to buy that sandwich and deliver it to me. Someone yelled that he should bring it to me fresh, and since I work overnights, that meant that he would have to come at midnight. He smiled, yet did not hesitate. Maybe it was that the patriots wore similar colors to the Dallas Cowboys. Who knows?

            By now, we all know what happened. I was nervous, and was thinking of how I might explain this Facebook post, while simultaneously actually honoring the deal (a comment on the bottom seemed the best option). Also, I was not looking forward to either (a) staying well past my midnight shift and then going to a Applebee's to deliver it to him, or (b) going home, then  driving back just to get him that damn sandwich.

            As it turns out, I need not have worried. My team, the Giants, won. To be sure, it was a close game, and you could really make an argument that maybe the Patriot's could have won, even should have won. Coulda, shoulda. That's all part of the game. I am not a hater of the Patriots, like many others. I am not, in fact, a hater of the Dallas Cowboys (although if I hang around this guy too much more, I might grow into one). But I am, first and foremost, a fan of the Giants, and have been since the first time I followed the sport, way back in the 1981 season. I have been there as a fan through plenty of disappointments, as any fan of any team has been, as well. There was one that somebody mentioned to me just yesterday, after the game, mentioning the Eagles game where the Giants seemed to have the game (and as a result, the division title) well in hand with a three touchdown lead with a bit more than seven minutes left in the game. The Eagles amazingly enough scored a quick four touchdowns to win a miracle comeback victory, and to give the Giants one of their most disgraceful losses in football history. I remember another one against the 49ers in the 2002 season, and in the playoffs, no less! That, too, is part of the game.

So, as a Giants fan, I am looking forward to eating the Cowboys for lunch, brought fresh to me by a rabid Cowboy fan when the hour strikes midnight on his final hopes that his season (which by now was reduced to simply routing for the Giants to lose to anyone, since his Cowboys were not able to get it done against them) would be salvaged even a little bit. He wanted it so badly, that he lost sight of the possibility that it might not happen, and that maybe the Giants really were that good.

I am glad that I will not have to submit that shameful post about the Dallas Cowboys being all that great. Judging by the results, they are not, in fact, the greatest team in the world, and have not been the best team in football in well over a decade and a half, and counting. Right now, there is a team that can lay more proper claim to that distinction, and they are in the same division as the Cowboys. That would be the New York Giants.