(this was originally written in april 2004...)Finally, after five years in New York, I have a reason to pull for a local football team. As of last Saturday, I’m a Giants fan.
Eli’s coming.
I admit, my loyalties are fluid. I was prepared to be a Chargers fan, until Eli said he didn’t want to be a Charger. I considered the possibility that the Raiders might draft him second, which would have been fine. I could have pulled for the Raiders, even if they do have Charles Woodson, who robbed Peyton of the Heisman Trophy. But the Giants possibility sure looked sweet.
Broadway Eli.
I grew up in Moss Point, Miss. There were no local teams in any professional sport when I was a kid, so I affiliated myself through my favorite players. In 1961, my first year in organized baseball, I became a Yankees fan because of Roger Maris.
In 1967 I switched allegiance to the Red Sox, courtesy of Carl Yastrzemski. I stayed with the Sox through the Clemens years. When the Sox dumped him, I dumped them, and became a Toronto Blue Jays fan - every five days.
And then a Yankees fan again.
And now, every five days, an Astros fan. I sort of wish the Rocket would stay put.
In a similar fashion but a different sport, I became an Ole Miss football fan in 1968, after reading about this skinny quarterback named Archie Manning who Coach Johnny Vaught thought might become pretty good.
Smart guy, Coach Vaught.
The NFL draft of 1971 made me care about the New Orleans Saints, and I followed them through all Archie’s ill-fated seasons there. Then Bum Phillips came along as coach, and out went Archie. I couldn’t find it in me to pull for the Oilers or Vikings as Archie’s career fizzled to an end. But I abandoned the Saints, and nurtured a cold contempt for Bum that exists to this day.
The college recruiting of Peyton revived my Manning fascination. I understood why he chose not to go to Ole Miss. I would have loved to see him at Florida State (my adopted alma mater, owing to my esteem for Bobby Bowden) but OK. I could accept Tennessee.
After all, I was living in Tennessee by then. So what if the school color is so scorchingly ugly that it hurts even my color-blind eyes. So what if one of my happiest days ever was the Saturday when Archie Who and the Rebels beat UT 38-0 after a certain Volunteer linebacker spoke ill of the Rebel talent.
As I said, my loyalties are fluid. I learned to embrace my inner Vol and, with astonishing ease, came to hate the Florida Gators. (Assisted by my Florida State affection.) They were four good years. I even managed, through residual affection, to feel reasonably happy a year after Peyton’s departure, when the Vols won the national championship. Over my Seminoles.
Ideally, to keep my NFL allegiance in-state, the Tennessee Titans (nee Oilers) would have drafted Peyton, but they were too far down in the draft order and didn’t need a quarterback anyway. So he went to the Indianapolis Colts, testing my ability to warm to a franchise that, let’s face it, shouldn’t even be in Indianapolis.
I warmed. I now want the misplaced Colts to win a Super Bowl. A couple, even.
Eli’s decision to attend Ole Miss renewed my link, never severed, with my true alma mater. I waited through a redshirt season. I waited while he backed up Romaro Miller. I waited through a winning season with no bowl game and, finally, enjoyed the first 10-win season since my freshman year.
Onward to the pros. But where?
From Tennessee I had moved on to New York, where I had no local allegiance. If Peyton had bypassed his senior year, he might have been drafted by the Jets, a team that Joe Namath once made my favorite. (I also, for years, favored first the 49ers and then briefly the Chiefs for their quarterback named Joe. Hey, you blame me?) I could easily have revived my Jets fervor if Peyton had come along.
But he didn’t. Joe Willie’s Jets legacy wasn’t strong enough to command any enduring affection, and I couldn’t find any reason at all to focus on the Giants, a team with all the charisma and appeal of the Microsoft Corporation.
Enter Eli.
It wasn’t pretty. I would have preferred that the Giants traded up to take Eli, relieving him of the booing he got when the Chargers selected him. But all’s well that ends well, I read somewhere, and that Giants blue and red is close enough to the Rebels red and blue.
I may buy a hat. Even a No. 10 jersey.
Fran who?
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