Diary of a Mad Fan

A Pre-Game Stroll Through Central Park

I've been intending to document our first ever attendance of a Chargers away game since it occurred the Sunday before last, but I am just now getting around to it. I cleared my schedule of laying in bed catching up on Tivo and I am ready to share this tale of triumph in enemy territory. First of all, my sister and brother-in-law came to town for a visit which was directly influenced by the prospect of a game at Giants Stadium. They are not actual Chargers fans, but they support our habit and root for them mainly out of fear for our mental health on Mondays. We actually ordered Chargers beanies for them and had them sent a few weeks in advance of their trip so they would have some gear to demonstrate their loyalties, not knowing that it would be a balmy 70 degrees at the Meadowlands that day. We took the bus from Port Authority early to meet up with the Charger tailgate that was planned by a group of New York Chargers fans that we are acquainted with through the Charger bar, MJ Armstrong's. We had been seeing Bolts fans all over the city throughout the weekend, high fiving as we passed of course, and it was no different at Port Authority. The winds changed, however, when we boarded the bus and a chorus of boos erupted in a sea of Manning jerseys.



As a football fanatic, I can handle ribbing, taunting, and heckling. I expect it going into an opponent's stadium. Part of the fun of being a fan is trash talking and bragging rights. I mean, let's be honest, if and when your team ever wins the Super Bowl, the big game, the championship, isn't the best part of it the fact that you get to gloat about your team reigning supreme for 7 months before you have to relinquish being called "The Champs"? Maybe not for all, but for me, it's what you want and what you hope for and the only way you can shut up all those Patriots fans or Steelers fans or whatever stupid franchise that has had more glory than any one team should have bestowed upon them. (Seething and grumbling).

Anyway, we arrived at Giants Stadium (poor Jets) and met up with almost 300 Charger fans in full gear causing a huge ruckus with the Giants fans tailgating nearby. It was fantastic. The group of Bolts fans were loud, rowdy, and exactly the kind I would hate if I were the home team.



A group of maybe 40 of us paraded through the parking lots blaring the San Diego Chargers fight song and chanting at the mostly dumb struck and disgusted Giants fans. At one point, I got named parade master and was shoved to the front of the pack to show off my Chargers poncho with pride. I have to admit it was both frightening and fun, with pretzels being thrown along with insults and lone pockets of Chargers fans high fiving and cheering us in our brave march through G-men territory. It was all in good fun though for the most part. There were a few drunken idiots (cough, Jersey, ahem), but it was good natured overall.

That was until we got to our seats. I won't go into gory details but there was a crowd of hecklers behind us that could not have been more of a Jersey cliche (with their ripped off sleeves and head bandanas, Springsteen much?) that made the game unpleasant. My sis and brother-in-law were not only troopers, but at times defended our honor and Mike's blue mohawk. As the story has already been written I won't tell it again, but watching Rivers march the offense down the field like nothing was standing in his way (I'm talking to you Giants D) was a thing of beauty. We could just feel that they were going to pull out the win. I don't know if it was the electricity of the team or the anger brewing in the fans around us, but when Rivers sailed that pass to the back corner of the end zone right into Vincent Jackson's hands...it was the perfect punctuation on a perfect day. (Insert sound of needle scraping across record here with visual of Mike's Charger head band being ripped off his head, thrown 20 rows down with fighting words exchanged).

We left Giants Stadium with a win minus a headband and with renewed excitement about our season. I know that my friends who could care less about football and sports are reading this (if they haven't checked out already) and rolling their eyes, but for us, it was a glorious day. So, like any tumultuous relationship, I will keep going back for more because the good times are so good and they manage to wipe away any memory of the bad. And that is why I am a football fan and will remain one until something terrible happens...like Eric Mangini. I promise to be back soon with something more universally appealing, but until then play this a few times for me.



Happy Bus Ride Home