Pelletier's Perspective 1.23.08: Change in Perspective

Posted by Justin Pelletier on 01.23.2008

If you heard a strange noise emanating from the heavens Sunday night, down worry I’m pretty sure it was an enormous ‘ATTA BABY’ for the New York football Giants.

At their worst professional sports are filled with spoiled millionaires, content on raping the game for all it's worth without the slightest return. At their best, though, sports can give back more than you could have ever hoped, like on Sunday when the New York Giants brought me to tears by helping me remember my dad, Hank.

Hank died on August 21, 15 days before the start of the NFL season. When the Giants season began with two resounding losses, I joked that Hank checked out because he couldn't stand to see the way his team was playing. Who could have ever imagined that, on the day Hank would have turned 74, I'd be celebrating the G-Men's Super Bowl birth.

Growing up sports was the epicenter of my existence. Saying I was obsessed with sports is like saying that Brittany Spears is a little trashy. I watched games, absorbed highlights, committed stats to memory. There wasn't a moment that went bye that I didn't have sports on the brain.

It was that love, the pure unadulterated passion for sports that bound Hank and me. If you had asked me 10 years ago if sports would ever NOT be the most important aspect of my life, I probably would have said no. It took leaving home, and starting a family of my own, to realize that sports are only a footnote in life, a splash of color on the tapestry of life. Despite my obsession with sports for the first 20 years of my life, it took its connection to family to bring me to tears.

I was struck by the irony of the situation as I watched the NFC championship game. The day prior was my wife's baby shower and we spent most of the hours preceding the game going through our gifts and celebrating the impending new life. Then the next four hours I spent rooting for the Giants and reflecting on a life gone bye.

With every Giant touchdown I could hear Hank squeal. After every Manning completion I heard "Way to go Eli." Each Plaxico Burress reception filled me with joy. Each RW McQuarters fumble, and missed Lawrence Tynes field goal, stung me with agony.

When Green Bay won the overtime toss the outcome seemed obvious. It was now time for the mighty Packers, and everyone's favorite quarterback, to squash my storybook ending. Then Corey Webster changed the script with his interception and when Tynes redeemed himself with the winning kick I couldn't call my mom fast enough.

It took one "Atta Baby" for each of us to be reduced to tears. We couldn't believe Hank wasn't here to see "his team" but we were pretty sure he was watching. My mom mentioned how proud he'd be and I know he's pissed that he can't gloat to all the Eagles fans at the diner.

It's funny how priorities change as you age. I remember vividly Hank listening to me spout out all the knowledge and statistics I studied as a child. As an adult, sports no longer control my life, however, it's now that they make the greatest impact.