John Delach

This is an edited edition of my piece about this trip that I made in December of 1983.

I received two important invitations requiring commitments for early December of 1983 that conflicted with each other. The first was from Exxon asking me to speak to their Pacific Rim insurance executives at a conference they were arranging on a Wednesday afternoon in Singapore. The second was to attend the wedding of a woman with whom I had worked at the Westchester Country Club the following Saturday evening.

Everything being equal, I thought I could attend both without a problem, but another wrinkle was added. One of Exxon’s executives was from their Malaysian affiliate, EPMI. We were also the insurance broker for this profitable, though troublesome account that roughly equated to dealing with a recalcitrant teenager. Knowing that I would be in near-by Singapore, their man from EPMI demanded that I also schedule a visit to his base in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. K.L. is about the same distance from Singapore that Boston is from New York so distance wasn’t a problem. But I couldn’t leave Singapore until Thursday morning and would not be able to leave K.L. until Friday afternoon.

It looked hopeless, but I chose not to surrender. I took home the airline guides and studied them on the train. My company rules, quite loose in those days, allowed for First Class for a trip of this distance. I studied the guide and realized this could be done thanks to this being a First-Class trip that would include an upgrade to the SST, Concorde. By going via London and beginning and ending my trip on the fast bird, I could leave JFK on BA-Flight 1 on Monday morning, arrive in Heathrow that afternoon and catch a Quantas 747 to Singapore via Bahrain and arrive in Singapore, Wednesday morning. Sleep would have to come on the airplane which, flying up front was not a problem.

MAS (Malaysian Air Services) provided shuttle-like flights to KL and I could be in Kuala Lumpur by mid-morning on Thursday. That would provide sufficient time for in-house meetings with our local branch, dinner with the client and meetings in their office the next day. A late afternoon flight back to Singapore on Friday would allow me to connect with the Singapore Airlines flight to London via Bombay that night. That flight was scheduled to land at 6 am GMT Saturday, giving me three hours before Concorde was scheduled to depart to New York. Concorde’s ETA into JFK was 8:45 am EST.

It could be done! And so I accepted both invitations.

The flights out were fine, my speech went well, Kuala Lumpur was what KL is; teenagers making outrageous demands but I was cool. One of our local guys, Tan Lai Wat drove me to the airport. I checked into MAS with carry-on baggage only to find that all was not well. The airplane for our 5 pm flight was delayed. Oh boy, my Singapore connection was the key. If I missed the Singapore Airlines 747, scheduled to depart at 9 pm, my plan would collapse like a house of cards.

Everything went backwards; the MAS 737 didn’t arrive until 7:30 pm and we didn’t leave the ground until 8:15. I was sitting in Row 1 of First Class next to an Aussie who was of no help. All he did was attempt to feed me drinks and repeat over and over, “Mate, you haven’t a chance, you’re not going to make it.”

“Damn,” I said to myself, “I’m too close to fail.” I stopped a typical, pretty Malay flight attendant and told her, “I have a First-Class ticket on Singapore Airlines Flight 4 to London. Here is my ticket. Tell the pilot to call the airport and tell them to hold the plane. I have carry-on so I will not need luggage service.”

She nodded and went into the cockpit. My Aussie buddy thought this was great fun repeating, “Mate, you’re not going to make it.”

Defiantly, I replied, “Yes I am.”

But my push for confidence was dented when the pretty Malay girl returned and asked, “What BA flight are you on?”

“No, no, it’s Singapore Airlines!” I shouted in reply driving her back into the cockpit as my mate had a blast at my expense.

We reached the gate at nine and a lot of change. The door opened and a Singapore Airlines hostess stepped on board and called my name as best she could. “Damn,” my companion shouted, “Mate you are going to make it; well done!”

I heard his remarks over my shoulder as I sprinted through the jet way with my little angel. She stopped, trading my ticket for the boarding pass she held in her hands. Her traditional uniform and short legs made it impossible to keep up with my adrenalin induced gait so I stopped and asked, “What gate?”

She replied, “Twenty-one,” and pointed the way.

“Great, stay here,” I replied and went into overdrive.

I saw the gals waiting outside the gate for me and I waved my boarding pass at them as I sprinted toward the gate. All smiles as is their training and demur; they took my pass and hustled me on board. I swear the cabin door descended into position and locked into place on my heels like something out of a science fiction movie.

I immediately fell asleep and slept in my totally reclined big seat until jarred awake by the landing in Bombay…so much for “Your seats must be up in the erect and locked position.”

No memory of the flight from Bombay to London except toward the landing. Back in 1983, movies were shown the same way as a theatre using a screen in front of the cabin. Again, no memory of what film was playing, but it wasn’t over as the pilot made his approach to Heathrow. Even though we were on final approach, the flight attendants didn’t interfere with the passengers or the show and the movie continued as we landed and taxied to the gate. Even then, the movie stayed on, their suggestion; if you want to see the end, please do so before de-planing.

We landed way early, before 5 am local time. Nothing was open in Heathrow. The Concorde lounge didn’t open until 7:30. By chance, I asked a guard, “Is there any place I can take a shower?”

“Yes sir,” and he directed me to this blockhouse sort of a structure in the middle of the main part of the terminal. “Damn,” I said to myself. “Okay granted, almost all of my flights through Terminal 3 were just arriving or going home but how did this escape me?”

I found the shower facility and its sleepy attendant and for some small amount less than half a Pound, he gave me a tiny towel and a minuscule bar of soap directing me to a numbered stall. One look at the size of the towel and I asked for two. He said that was not possible so I told him, “No problem, I will pay for two showers.” He looked at me with visible distain, another ugly American. Visibly displeased, reluctantly he accepted my money and the second towel was mine.

One of the best showers in my life!

I actually used all of the remaining clean clothes in my bag and wandered the terminal until the lounge opened. The Concorde BA staff were on their game, but it was really quiet on this early Saturday morning. I fell into a conversation with a fellow American on his way home from a trip to South America and southern Europe. I recall he showed me a prize pipe he had acquired while we occasionally observed the lounge’s TV tuned to MTV without comment, a new experience for both of us.

Not very many people pay to fly this fast plane to New York early on a Saturday morning. But I did it, I completed the mission. Home by 10 am, words, kisses with Mary Ann, Beth, Michael and Harry and Fred (our first two Golden Retrievers), the giving of gifts from far off places and to bed for a four-hour nap before the wedding.

The wedding was grand, the bride, beautiful. Don’t ask me what I remember: not much. I’ll end with this: Naturally, Mary Ann drove. When we left our house, she had to make two turns to get us on a main road. After she did, she stopped the car. I asked her, “Why are you stopping here?”

She replied, “I usually stop at red lights.”

“Cool,” I replied, “It’s a good thing you’re driving.”                

December 2025

Banking in Midtown

Marsh & McLennan, the firm where I worked, moved uptown from the City Service Building at 70 Pine Street to the brand-new McGraw-Hill Building, 1221 Avenue of the Americas in the Spring of 1972. I had worked downtown since 1966 and it took less than a day to fall in love with midtown. It was as if the sky had opened and sunlight was everywhere. My old bank was on Wall Street so I picked a new one, Chemical Bank, that was across the street in the Exxon Building, 1251 Avenue of the Americas.

The branch was in a large area below the street. It did attract a good following which resulted in having to wait on lines most days. Chemical Bank took advantage of its waiting customers to display wanted posters of about a dozen bank robbers. For a while, I ignored these posters until one day the information under one of their photographs grabbed my attention. I picked up the poster and started studying it as I made my way to the teller.

I had time enough to reach a realization by the time I arrived at my teller. Transaction complete, I made my way to the part of the bank where the officers were located. I asked to see one and a receptionist led me to a young man. He asked, “How can I help you?”

I put the poster onto his desk with the felon’s photos facing him. “This is one of the wanted posters that you have in various places in this bank. I want you to take a good look at the information that is beneath each photo. You will notice that the dates shown for each and every bank robbery took place more than seven years ago meaning that the statute of limitation for every one of them has expired.”

With that, I got up leaving the poster on his desk as I walked out.

The next time I returned to Chemical Bank, all of the posters had been removed.

Restaurant Row

West Forty-Six Street between Eighth Avenue and Nineth Avenue is officially known as Restaurant Row. This block has offered more than a century of culinary history in the many restaurants that line both sides of the street. Originally, most of these eateries were French, some being upscale offering classic French cuisine, but mostly peasant French offering every day choices.

But why West 46^th Street and why between Eighth and Nineth Avenues. One explanation was: “Located conveniently close to Broadway and the Theater District, Restaurant Row is an ideal destination for the pre- and post-theater crowd, Times Square employees and Hell’s Kitchen residents.

Close, but no cigar. The real reason for the actual location of Restaurant is one of geography. Walk west along Forty-Six Street until you reach the Hudson River. In front of you is New York City’s cruise ship terminal, but back in the day it was occupied by the French Line. French immigrants who were seeking to open their own restaurants followed their predecessors as far east as they could to open an eatery with reasonable rents. Over time these restauranters and their successors established Restaurant Row.

During the 1970s one of the favorites of mine and my mates was Che Cardinale, a small, reasonable peasant French place with good food. It turned out that the owner lived in Port Washington and I would see him on the Long Island Railroad from time to time.

It was an ordinary place and one day I discovered how ordinary it was. At lunch, I decided to turn over my fork and found the back read, “Horn & Hardart” that referred to the operators of a famous of a chain of NYC cafeteria’s known as The Automat. I didn’t tell anybody, but I kept the fork.

Che Cardinale is long gone and today, thirty-one eateries occupy the block including Chinese, Korean, Japanese and Caribbean cuisine. The most famous are Becco, Joe Allen, Lattanzi, Orso and Barbetta that has been there since 1906.

May this famous New York block continue to prosper for another hundred years or longer.              

December 2025 

The Friday morning following Thanksgiving 2025, found me and several of my relatives sitting in our Four-Season Room having coffee, OJ, muffins, left over apple crumb, sour cherry and pumpkin pie as we waited for several additions to our party to arrive.

It was cold, below freezing, but the sun warmed the inside of our room. I sat there with my second cup of coffee reading the E-Edition of Long Island Newsday while sharing Thanksgiving thoughts with my wife, Mary Ann and son-in-law, Tom Briggs. His wife, Beth and daughter, Marlowe, who was named after the town, occupied themselves getting ready to pick up Beth’s friend, Tommie who caught a ride that morning from his home in Burlington, VT.

The plan was for Beth and Marlow to drive to Lebanon, NH where they would meet and drive Tommie the rest of the way to our place in Marlow that my wife named “Little House” way back in 1984 when we first bought it.

Also, on the way to stay with us were my two oldest Grandson’s Drew and Matt Delach, 26 and 24 respectively. They were driving north from their homes in Fairfield, CT using Drew’s Toyota Tacoma.

The TV was turned to one of the networks’ NFL pre-game shows. The commentators did their best to entertain us by exploring one of the three games that were to be played that day.

At about ten, the sun disappeared and the sky began to darken as thicker and thicker clouds began to push across the sky from the west. Conversation stopped as the wind began to swirl and heavier and heavier hail began to blow upon the room. It danced off the glass sounding like a drum beating in overtime.

We there in shock as the hail turned to snow. Lights were turned on and everyone came into the room to better see what was going on. The weather folks had forecast a cold and sunny day which obviously, turned out to be wrong. Several grabbed their cell phones tuning in their favorite weather sources.

All of them were as shocked as we were. It seemed that a narrow front had developed that was less than twenty miles across and we were in the center. Snow began to accumulate immediately on our cars and trucks, the grass, ground, and the roof of the house.

Beth and Marlowe planned to drive to Lebanon in Marlowe’s Jeep Renegade that Mary Ann had recently given to her. Instead, Beth chose to use their new Hyundai Santa Fe as she believed it had better traction.

One good thing, I had the Renegade inspected and serviced a week earlier and I had even added a snow scrapper that turned out to be the only one any of us had.

Drew and Matt also arrived in the storm using four-wheel drive.

Shortly afterward, the snow slowed, stopped and the sun re-appeared. The sun didn’t stay very long as we discovered the eye of the storm was passing over our camp. Sure enough, round two began shortly thereafter. It didn’t last as long as the first half and the sun returned for good less than an hour later but not before we received a total of three inches of snow.

Beth, Marlowe and friend, Tommie, safely arrived in this new setting. That, dear reader, is what Marlow, NH can be all about. Welcome to our unexpected winter wonderland.

We retuned home on Sunday, Beth and Tom to Brooklyn, Mary Ann and me to Port Washington and Marlowe and Tommie to school at Syracuse.

On Tuesday, Marlow was buried under seven-inches of snow, and so it goes.              

The 2008 Improbable Playoff Season

John Delach

November 2025

Security outside the stadium was complicated by a maze that fans had to transverse to reach the pat down point. They backed up as fans filled them so we were shuffled past two gates forcing us to walk three quarters of the way around the stadium and climb over concrete barriers. We carried little to a avoid having any items confiscated. I didn’t even take my binocular case as I had been told that it was not permitted

In fact, the next day I learned how silly security was from my seat mate on our flight out of Tucson. This fellow took his eight-year-old son to the game. He told me that he had bought his son a mini football at the airport. The kid carried it everywhere, but when they went to enter the stadium, the security guard explained that he had no choice but to confiscate it since someone could throw it onto the field. This fellow told me, “What was really wrong was they took this harmless football from an eight-year-old before we could enter and yet, not ten feet away, they were selling the same football at their concession stands. That’s just wrong.”

When the bar codes on our tickets were successfully read, the leap of faith was complete. We saluted each other and split up, four of us heading for Section 423 in the upper deck and the rest of the boys to Section 123, directly beneath us in the lower deck. Mike, Dave, Tim and I climbed the steep stairs, the two of them to Row 22 and Mike and I to Row 23. You may ask the question, “Why were you in Row 23?” The answer: “Because there was no Row 24.”

We were located on the Patriots side of the field at the turn behind the end zone. I wasn’t unhappy. My binoculars would be effective and I could stand up whenever I wanted.

Michael left for the head shortly before the game began and didn’t return by the time the Patriots kicked off. The Giants started the game by keeping the ball for nine minutes and fifty-nine seconds, a Super Bowl record for an opening drive. It ended in a field goal; Giants 3-0. Michael reappeared at the bottom of the stairs waving to me. When I climbed down, he said, “Dad, we can stay down here behind the handicapped seating area or on an adjacent landing (behind what I would call Box Seats.)”

A security guards confirmed this: “You just have to stay three feet from the last row of seats.”

The sight line was much better and we were that much closer to the field. I told Dave and Tim that we planned to stay there and that’s where we stood for the rest of the game.

Things really became tense as the first-half continued. Even though the Patriots scored in the second-quarter; the score was only 7-3. It remained fixed at this number when the Giants forced Tom Brady to fumble at the end of the first-half. I said to Michael, “I’m so glad that we are standing. I’m too stressed to sit. This is insane. I think the key to this game will be the Patriots opening drive in the second-half. If the Giants stop them, they will have a chance.”

I looked around Phoenix University Stadium during halftime. The girders supporting the closed re-tractable roof are impressive, the sight-lines were good and the field; first rate. But the scoreboard was garish and so busy with junk that it was hard to find the score, down or yards to go. The P.A. announcer was awful. He was a far cry from Bob Shepherd, the late Giants P.A. announcer who limited his announcements game facts. 

What I saw in the Giants so far was complete focus and intensity. They retained it as the third quarter began, stopping the Patriots and forcing them to punt. And they accomplished this despite having a penalty called on them for having twelve men on the field on a previous punt that gave the Patriots new life on that drive.

How insane could this game get? With the score remaining 7-3 at the beginning of the fourth-quarter, I didn’t know how much more I could take. Then the Giants scored on their first drive of the fourth quarter on a 5-yard pass from Eli Manning to David Tyree that Tyree caught in the end zone at our end of the field; Giants 10-7.

Oh boy, oh boy. I thought I was going to explode. The Patriots stalled and punted on their next possession as did the Giants. Now 7:54 remained in the game as the Patriots started their next drive at their 20-yard line. Brady got his act together and engineered an 80-yard drive scoring on a third-down pass to Randy Moss with 2:42 left in the game. Patriots 14-10.

A Patriot fan standing near us pulled out a cigar held it in the air and announced, “This game is over.”

“I’m not so sure.” I said to Michael. “There’s a lot of time left on the clock and the Giants have all three-time outs.”

By now many of the stadium employees had stopped working and were watching the game. A big, bald security guard stood next to me. As the Giant offense returned to the field after they had run the kickoff out to the 17-yard line, I turned to him and said, “What do you think?”

He replied, “I think the kid can do it.”

And so Eli did.

Manning put together a 12 play, 83-yard drive highlighted by his great Houdini escape from the Patriot linemen when they had him on the brink of ending the game, followed by his sprint and his 32-yard fling and the impossible catch by David Tyree. A few plays later, when Plaxico Burress put a move on Ellis Hobbs, all he had to do was catch Manning’s lob and get his two feet inbounds inside the end zone right below us. He did: Giants 17-14.

I kissed the security guard on the top of his head.

The Patriots had one last chance with 34-seconds and three-time outs left. When rookie tackle, Jay Alford nailed Brady on second down for a sack, I had the hope that the Patriots wouldn’t reach field goal range, but I held my breath when Brady tried to hit Moss on a pass he must have thrown 75-yards that Corey Webster knocked away at the last second. Ten seconds left on the clock and I was holding my breath. When Brady’s next pass went incomplete, I lost track of the downs and Michael had to remind me that the Giants now had the ball for the one second remaining on the clock.

When Michael lifted me in the air, I knew the Giants had won. The fellow with the cigar stood in stunned silence. Michael yelled to him, “You know where you can put that cigar now.”

We couldn’t hear the trophy presentation and we were too far away to watch it, so Michael and I jubilantly exited the stadium to meet Gordon and Frank and have victory beers.

Jubilant and insanely happy, I took Michael aside and asked him, “Mike, if we played these guys ten times, how many would we beat them?”

Mike smiled, turned toward me and replied, “Pop, we just saw it.”

My cell phone would not transmit or receive calls. Apparently, Verizon was overwhelmed. Our drivers were easy to find and our mates arrived in short order. We didn’t stay long and began the crawl out of the parking lot. The mood was overwhelmingly joyful. We had just seen the greatest football game any of us had ever seen. Then Michael noticed a young woman wearing a Brady Jersey walk by. He leaned out the widow and said, “Don’t worry, Tom, 18-1 ain’t bad.”

“Fuck off.” came her reply.

Brilliant, Michael had nailed her.

Once we reached about a mile from the stadium, everybody’s phones started signaling that we had tons of messages from family and friends. What a great night.

The Giants were the Super Bowl XLII Champions

Go Giants!

The Giants 2008 Improbable Playoff Season

John Delach

November 2025

I’m wired and up at 6 a.m. Damn, I couldn’t find my glasses so I made enough noise to torture my son so that he stirred to find them. “I’ll get you coffee,” was the extent of my apology. That’s how wired I was. Fortunately, Mike knew the wreck he was dealing with.

I made my way down to the Best Western’s continental breakfast for coffee, juice and yogurt. Dave, Jamie, Justine and our van guy, Gordon were there. Gordon came early, very nervous, to explain that the van was not available, but he would replace it with two Ford Excursions.  I listened as he told Jamie that he couldn’t afford to lose this booking. Jamie replied, “It’s not a problem.”

After he left, I said to Jamie, “Having two vehicles could have been a problem. Last night while waiting for Steve, I spoke to some Giant fans from New England sitting at the bar. They were so cool and brave that I offered them one of our two passes, but, fortunately, they already had one.”

Steve picked up our BBQ at 8:00. Steve told us, “They did a great job. The manager didn’t like the way the original batch of chicken looked. It was too soggy so he had the cook make another batch.”

Gordon and his step-son, Frank arrived promptly at 8:30. We divided the food and the Styrofoam coolers now filled with beer, water and soda, between the two Fords, boarded and headed out on I-10 toward Phoenix and the place where our tickets were supposed to be.

The subject came up on the ride, “Why is this stadium where the Cardinals play named after The University of Phoenix, a college that is essentially a correspondence school? They don’t have a football team, hell, they don’t have a campus?”

The answer: “They’re big enough to buy the naming rights.”

 Traffic was light, but frequent Highway Patrol officers in their sexy cruisers some-what maintained traffic at the 75 MPH speed limit. Not too far north of Marano, I spotted the tails of a flock of medium and large size commercial aircraft parked in the distance off to our left. Gordon told us it was the Picato Aircraft Park, an airline graveyard. From the distance, I could make out the distinctive shapes of 747s and DC-10s among the many airplanes stored there.

We learned that he had lived in California and Hawaii before Arizona. “I took a job with a maintenance company in Hawaii. The day after I started, the cops arrived to arrest the owner on an old involuntary manslaughter charge. He went to jail and I got the company.”

Both Gordon and Frank looked like they had many stories they could tell us; stories that we were better off not knowing.

I had the directions to the Comfort Suites mapped out. About a half-hour out, I called Doctor Mike and told him that we’d be there by 10:30. He caught a cab to the hotel while his two traveling companions, Ahab and a doctor colleague, Fred continued to the stadium after dropping Doctor Mike off. We skirted Phoenix and turned north on I-17. As we neared Exit 208, I turned to Dave, “Well, it’s show time. We’ll know in less than ten-minutes if we were good or if we’ll have to find a bar to watch the game.”

Doctor Mike met us in the lobby. He had the cell phone number for John from TicketRESERVE. I called, John appeared, Dave and I produced photo IDs, signed his receipt and he handed us two envelopes each containing two Super Bowl XLII tickets.

We had them! We actually had the tickets in hand. Our prolonged leap of faith was almost over.

The stadium was about ten miles away on local streets. Despite becoming separated as we got close, after some detours, curses and moans; we were able to reassemble in the parking lot by 11:30. Thank the Lord for cell phones.

The stadium was about a mile from where we parked. Between it and us were a movie theatre complex, a pedestrian shopping mall and a Renaissance Hotel. The weather was cool and cloudy, but the predicted showers never arrived.

I called Mary Ann and my daughter Beth to tell them that we had the tickets in hand. I do believe they were as relieved as I was. God bless them both for putting up with me, my anxieties and my foolish journey.

Doctor Mike called Ahab who joined us at our tailgate.

The parking lot tom-toms let us know early on that we were in violation of the parking lot rules. These rules basically held that you had to quickly vacate your vehicle and go to the food court or someplace else. Tailgating was not allowed. The NFL and their sponsors wanted exclusive access to our need for food and beer.

A damn nice sheriff was our first encounter with the folks hired on to be the tailgating patrol. He was as nice as nice could be. He told us to keep beer inside the vehicles and pour it into non-see-through containers. Of course, we didn’t have any non-see-through containers. Dave and Tim volunteered to find containers as they set off for the mall.

We received another security staff admonition and a warning from another tailgating group that some prick threatened to arrest them. We started debating whether or not to shut down the tailgate when Dave and Tim reappeared with ten plastic insulated coffee cups. Case closed, we were staying. Later, another search team came by and asked when we were vacating the SUVs? One of our lads held up his cup and replied, “As soon as we finish our coffee.”

God, that’s why I love this group of guys!

Tim asked me, “Where’s Michael.”

“I think he went to take a leak.”

“Okay, but look what I bought for him.”

Tim produced a large steel bottle opener with the SB XLII Logo on it, the date and location. My son collects bottle openers using both legal and illegal means. “Tim, this is great. It’s the ultimate opener you could give to him.”

When Michael returned, Tim offered it to him. “Hey, now,” Michael exclaimed, “That’s the king of my collection. How much do I owe you?”

Tim replied, “Nothing, it’s a gift.”

“Hey, now, this is really neat. Thank you, a bunch, man.” Mike replied as he hugged Tim.

Encounters with Patriot fans were few and far between. We did have a moment when three young men in New England jerseys walked close to us. They had fixed oval stickers to their jerseys that proclaimed: 19-0.

 “A little premature, boys…you could be jinxing your team as you’re screwing with the football gods,” were a few of the more civilized comments they received. By now, even though the tailgate police had disappeared into the afternoon, it was time to close down the tailgate and venture into the stadium.

Here was my message. The one my mates were sick and tired of hearing:

Nobody, I mean NOBODY thinks that our team has any chance of winning this game. But still, the Giants are going into harm’s way. You never have the chance to engage the enemy with the navy you want. You must engage the enemy with the navy you have. So, like Spruance at Midway and Halsey at Guadalcanal, let’s be prepared to take the lumps we have to take to win.

I heard a Hall of Fame player being interviewed last week on either WFAN or ESPN. When asked who would win, he said: ”I’m an AFC man. I played my entire career in the AFC. I was a member of four Super Bowl teams in the AFC. But this Giant team has something special. They have this thing I call IT. I believe this Giant team is going to win this football game.

 That player was Mean Joe Green. Go Giants!

The 2008 Improbable Playoff Season

John Delach

November 2025

Mike arrived first having set sail from his home in Fairfield, CT at 2:30 am.

Mary Ann drove the two of us first to Joe’s house. Joe was sitting on his front steps when we arrived at 5:00 a.m. Our second stop, was Dave’s house. Dave and his son, Tim were ready when we reached them too. Dave’s wife, Jamie, gave us hugs and wished us well. It was around 5:15 when Mary Ann drove us out of town. “You do realize the last time most of us were together in this truck was when we drove home from the loss to the Patriots.” Dave informed us.

This led to an animated discussion about the playoffs, the team and the Super Bowl that Mary Ann enjoyed. Traffic was light on this Saturday morning and we arrived at the American’s departure area at LaGuardia Airport before 6:00. I explained to the Red Cap at curbside check-in: “Before we check our bags, three of us need boarding passes for our flight from DFW to Tucson. If you can get them for us, there is a substantial tip waiting for you.”

He replied, “Give me your driver’s licenses and I’ll be right back.”

He collected Joe’s, Mike’s and my licenses and disappeared into the terminal returning ten-minutes later with three boarding passes. “Hot dog!” I exclaimed as I handed him a $20 tip and another $20 for checking our bags. I called Mary Ann to let her know that we were in business. Unfortunately, I didn’t know that our flight to DFW had been postponed from 8:15 to 9:20. Joe discovered this as Dave, Tim and I ate breakfast. “We have a problem. If that delay slips, we could miss the flight to Tucson. One of the agents I went to see about a seat in an exit row thinks she can get us on an earlier flight.”

We followed Joe back to the agent. She told us, “One hundred eleven of the 132 passengers booked on Flight 707 have checked in. I’ll put you on stand-by. You better go to the gate as it departs at 7:15.”

Nice gal, she put us at the top of the list. Michael then schmoozed the gate agent who told him he thought we may have a shot. We waited as the flight was loaded. I was about ready to give up when the agent shouted out to us, “Okay, get on now as quickly as you can. Don’t worry about your seat assignments; just grab any empty seat you see.”

We scattered about the 737 that departed on time. Of course, our bags remained with the luggage for the later flight so if that plane missed the connection, so would our bags. Later at DFW, we learned that we had escaped this crisis when we found a group of passengers who were on our original flight. They made it despite the delay and, presumably, so did our bags.

I told my mates that I had just called Mary Ann to update her on our progress and that, so far, all was well. “Well boys, here was her reply, ‘That’s good news. Now calm down and have fun. But, John, this is the last time that you can go on one of these trips. Then again, by the time the Giants get back to the Super Bowl, you’ll probably be dead.”

The connecting flight to Tucson on an MD-80 was uneventful, but the Red Cap who procured our seats back at LGA really did us a favor seating the three of us in the exit rows.

On arrival, Mike told us that he had a text message from Steve who had arrived first. Steve was happy to report that the hotel was clean, well-kept and close to a BBQ restaurant and a WAL-MART that sold liquor, wine and beer. Once we boarded the mini-van that Dave rented from Enterprise. I told Joe, “Joe, Steve doesn’t know that Doctor Mike plans to spend Sunday night at our hotel.”

“So what?” Joe asked.

“Well, I figure that Doctor Mike didn’t reserve a room. That means he’ll stay with Steve or you. When Steve finds this out, he’s going flip out. You’d better be prepared to let Doctor Mike be your room-mate.”

A short ride through beautiful downtown Tucson northwest on I-10 brought us to the Best Western in Marano, Arizona. Following a quick check-in, we hooked-up with Steve and headed to WAL-MART for provisions for the room and tomorrow’s tailgate. Steve told us that The Texas Roadhouse BBQ joint across from our hotel had agreed to supply us with ribs, chicken and pulled pork for tomorrow’s tailgate.

Once his brother, Jamie and son Justin arrived, we walked over to The Texas Roadhouse to place our order and have a drink. Even though it was early, this family restaurant was mobbed with patrons filling the restaurant, the bar, a holding area, the waiters’ stations and outside the front door. The manager advised Steve to return later so we drove to Li’l Abner’s Steakhouse.

I had seen a favorable review of this casual place in the AAA Guide and a fellow Tucson passenger that morning had confirmed it to be a good place to eat.

It was located in a single-story adobe style building that looked to have seen better days. They cooked the meat outside on a huge grill mounted on a circular stone wood burning stove. When we arrived, we saw chicken, ribs, and steak on the grill. Our cute and nice waitress, Alex was helpful. She told us the menu was oral which, of course set the guys off. When we asked her what appetizers they offered, Alex replied, “We don’t do appetizers.”

We decided to order full racks of beef and pork ribs for the table as our starters. When Alex delivered our order, she couldn’t resist commenting, “Well, I guess we do have appetizers after all.”

We ordered steaks as our main course. It was a good feed and they served Fat Tire Beer on tap, a sweet beer that I first enjoyed in 2005 on a trip to Fruita, Colorado.

Over dinner, we let it leak to Steve that Doctor Mike planned to spend Sunday night in our hotel. As anticipated, Steve reacted badly, “What, what. Well, he better have his own room because he’s not staying with me.”

To rev him up further I said, “Maybe you should check at the front desk to see if he reserved his own room,” knowing full well he did not.

We nudged Joe who replied, “I have a single bed. I hope he doesn’t mind a pull-out couch.”

Before returning to the hotel, Steve stopped to see the manager at The Texas Roadhouse and gave him our order. Steve related, “He is coming in early so that we can pick up the food at 8 a.m. and he didn’t ask for nor would he take a deposit.”

The Giants 2008 Improbable Playoff Season

John Delach

November 2025

TicketRESERVE e-mailed us almost as soon as the NFC Championship game ended confirming that we were entitled to buy tickets for Super Bowl XLII and how the process would take place.

“Do you really believe this worked and we’re going to the Super Bowl?” Dave asked, my son, Michael and me while we were celebrating.

“Unbelievable,” I replied. “Simply unbelievable. I bought the options as a lark. It was like walking into a big casino with a single silver dollar, picking a slot machine at random and hitting their monthly jackpot.”

“Who knew,” Mike said, “Who knew!”

Our improbable journey continues.

Giants NFC shirts and hats went on sale as soon as the sporting goods stores opened on Monday morning, the national holiday in honor of Martin Luther King Jr. Mike, his two boys, Drew and Matt and I drove to Roosevelt Field and purchased every article we desired between Modell’s and Dicks. His boys send the tickets rode a merry-go-round before we left the mall. Mike and I wore our new NFC Champion hats while we watched and waited for them. An anxious young man in a regular NY Giant cap asked us where we bought them. “Right in Dicks. There’s a table full of them when you go inside. If you want a shirt, they’ve got a ton of those, too at the other end of the store.”

We stopped at Dave’s house on the way home to drop off two hats and two tee shirts.

During the week leading up to the Packer game, my old pal, Steve Beslity sent me an e mail asking if any of our tailgate buddies were going to that game. I replied, “Not that I know of, but Dave and I had options for the Super Bowl and, if the Giants were going, so were we.”

This message put into motion a dynamic that I didn’t anticipate, our tailgate friends were coming to the game. I never thought to tell them about the options. Damn, it was a lark, something crazy to do. But the world flipped; the Giants were going to the Super Bowl and they wanted in.

The hunt began. Steve, (who resides in London and was traveling to the States on business) made plans to fly into Tucson. His brother, Jamie worked on securing tickets and our fellow Port Washington fan, Joe Minadeo also signed on. They all booked rooms in the same Best Western and Joe booked the same flights we were taking. Jamie bought four tickets through a scalper and by the end of the first week we had put the trip together. There would be eight in our band, Dave and Tim, Mike and me, Steve, Jamie and Jamie’s son, Justin and Joe.

There being eight of us, we agreed not to drive to the game and rented a Korean Church style van and driver to pick us up at the hotel at 9 a.m. on Sunday. I went on line to the University of Phoenix Stadium and purchased two parking passes. We would use one and sell one. Jamie discovered when he booked the van that Arizona had recently passed a stiffer DWI law mandating a 45-day jail term for a first offense.

On Thursday, January 24, we received an e mail from TicketRESERVE stating that they weren’t going to send the tickets by FedEx until the following Thursday for overnight arrival on Friday, February 1^st  Talk about cutting it close. At least now I knew what I was going to be doing next Friday; anxiously waiting for the tickets to arrive.

The parking passes arrived on Monday, but my anxiety level continued to climb waiting for Friday and FedEx to arrive with our game tickets. Joe Sharkey wrote in his weekly “On the Road” column in The New York Times that Arizona was crazy with Super Bowl fever and airline tickets were out of control. US Airways was charging $3,309 for a round-trip coach ticket from New York to Phoenix for Super Bowl weekend. United’s fare was $2,450.99 and American’s, $1,857.

By Wednesday, another issue raised my level of anxiety. When Dave’s travel agent booked our flights on American, she didn’t have seats for Mike, Joe and me on the leg from Dallas-Fort Worth (DFW) to Tucson. Dave and his son were the only exceptions. I feared       overbooking was in progress, especially after I called American and discovered that seats on three of the four later flights from DFW to Tucson were also closed out except for airport seat assignment.

The alternatives to reach Tucson from DFW bordered on the ridiculous. We could possibly take a Taxi to Love Field in Dallas and switch to a flight on Southwest Airlines to Tucson or transfer to an alternate American flight to El Paso, Texas and drive four hours to Tucson.

There was a force at work here that was truly testing us. Dave called me on Thursday morning. “You’d better open your e mail. We have a big problem with the tickets. The weather in Chicago and Memphis has screwed up delivery.”

Part VIII Preparing for Arizona continued:

I realized right away that, if TicketRESERVE  sent our tickets at the last moment, it could result in an enormous problem.

I opened my emails and found a message from TicketRESERVE marked URGENT advising that FedEx had declared “National Service Disruption” due to freezing rain and sleet at their Memphis hub. FedEx expected 5-7” of snow as did TicketRESERVE at their Chicago HQ.

TicketRESERVE decided to establish an onsite will-call in Phoenix, where we winners could pick up our Super Bowl tickets. This will-call would be open on Saturday (2/2) from 2:00 PM – 6:30 PM local time at the Comfort Suites at Metro Center, 10210 N. 26th Dr. Phoenix, AZ, 85021

They informed us that, if you cannot make it to the will-call on Saturday due to travel plans, please let us know immediately and we will work out an amicable solution.  Everyone picking up tickets will need to present a photo ID.

“Oh swell.” I replied to Dave. This phone call led to a number of e mails and phone calls that confirmed that their representative would also be available on Sunday up until noon at the same will-call located in the Comfort Suites Hotel We authorized them to take our tickets to Phoenix where we planned to pick them up between 11 a.m. and noon. Fortunately, Comfort Suites is located about ten miles from the stadium parking lot.

Attending this Super Bowl has become insane. When Steve, Jamie, Doc Michael Attubato and I ventured to Tampa for Super Bowl XXV in 1991, the face value of the tickets was $150. Ten years later, when we returned to Tampa for SB XXXV, the price on the ticket was $ 350. The face value of tickets for Super Bowl XLII is $700. Now that’s inflation.

Late on Thursday evening, TicketRESERVE advised that my two tickets were in the upper deck, Section 423, Row 23, Seats 13 and 14. I called Dave as we had asked them to coordinate our seats, and they did. Dave’s two seats were in the same section, Row 22, Seats 15 and 16. Good enough for government work.

NOBODY, BUT NOBODY, EXCEPT US DUMB-ASSES WHO SUPPORT THE NEW YORK FOOTBALL GIANTS GIVE OUR TEAM ANY CHANCE.

The Patriots were going into the game 18-0; the best team in professional football. The 1972 Miami Dolphins went undefeated and won the Super Bowl, achieving a record of 17-0. All the Patriots had to do to achieve immortally was quite simple, just beat the Giants. The odds makers listed the Pats as 14-point favorites. This betting line modestly retreated to 12 by Friday, still a fabulous endorsement of the new, yet still growing manifestation of an NFL dynasty. Who indeed, in their right mind would pick the Giants over the Patriots?

Even I had to admit that everything being equal, the Patriots should collect their fourth ring.

Bill Briggs, my son-in-law’s father telephoned me on Thursday, January 31^st. Bill and I enjoy sports. He’s a New England guy from a little town outside of Springfield, Mass and a good friend. Here’s what he told me, “I’ve done great this post season. I haven’t lost a game yet. I’m betting on the Giants on Sunday.”

I didn’t ask Bill if he was only relying on the point spread, figuring I’d let sleeping dogs lie.

Friday brought a ton of rain and another development. Mike Attubatto (Doctor Mike) called to let me know that he and another tailgate regular, Ahab Ali had bought tickets on E-Bay and were flying to Phoenix tomorrow. “Do you want me to pick up the tickets for you?”

I thanked Doctor Mike, but said we’d get them on Sunday. We decided that he and Ahab would meet us at the Comfort Suites and we would continue to the stadium together. “I also need a ride back to Tucson. I have a 7:45 a.m. flight on Continental to Newark.”

Fortunately, we rented a ten-passenger van that would accommodate all of us. I wondered if it still had the name of a Korean Church painted on the sides.

At 5:31p.m. WFAN’s premier sportscasters, Mike (Fatso) Francesa and Christopher (Fruit Loops) Russo made their Super Bowl predictions. Fatso picked the Patriots to win 35-17 and Fruit Loops, in an effort to be clever, picket them to beat the Giants 49-7 so that the point differential would be 42 as in Super Bowl XLII.

Perfect! Let the game begin.  

The Giants 2008 Improbable Playoff Season

John Delach

October 2012

 Coach Coughlin appeared on his WNBC show on Sunday morning. Sports announcer, Bruce Beck asked him what he told his team about playing in the NFC Championship Game? Coughlin replied with a smile on his face, “I told them that if you win this game, you’ll be something special. If you lose, you’re another team just like the rest.”

I liked the look on his face and how loose he seemed to be. I had my hopes and my doubts. Michael drove down from Connecticut with his wife Jodie, their two sons, Drew, Matty and little Samantha. The boys had on their Giant Jerseys and Sammy was dressed in her Giant cheerleader outfit. We watched the Patriots easily beat the San Diego Chargers despite Tom Brady throwing three interceptions.

The Pats were now 18-0 and only the NFC Champion team stood between them and perfection. They didn’t beat the 14 point-spread winning the game by nine points. They didn’t beat the spread the week earlier, but only bettors should take comfort in this. All you have to do is review the outcome of Bill Belichick coached big games to realize how cruel the Patriots can be. The other teams never had a chance, but Coach Belichick’s teams engineered final scores that were close enough so that the teams’ fans actually believed that with just a couple of coulda, woulda and shouldas their team would have beaten the Pats. “We came so close. If Joe had done this, or Bill hadn’t done that…” fuheddaboudit

And now with the added incentive to have a perfect season, nobody, I say nobody will give the NFC Champion team a chance. This then is what the Giants will face if they beat the Packers. And so, we gathered to watch the game about to be played on the famous frozen tundra of Lambeau Field.

The night was clear, but frigid. Coach Coughlin’s face was a measure of the temperature. By game time, it was really red and, as the game progressed, his forehead and cheeks increased in color until they were so red, that shades of purple infiltrated his face. He looked as if he was about to explode.   

Eli began the game well and the team played like wild men on offense and defense dominating the Packers on both sides of the ball. Even so, Green Bay held Big Blue at bay forcing them to settle for two field goals and a 6 to 0 lead.

Their quarterback, Bret Favre, and his receiver, Donald Driver, turned a short pass into a 90-yard touchdown putting the Packers in the lead. The action went back and forth as the lead changed hands two more times until the teams found themselves tied at 20 points each. The Giants remained the aggressor but Giants kicker, Laurence Tynes, missed two field goals in the fourth quarter, the first from 43 yards, the second from 36 yards with seconds left on the clock.

The Packers won the toss in overtime and selected to receive the kickoff. Fortunately, for our side, quarterback, Favre, promptly threw an interception to Giants defensive back, Corey Webster. After the Giants were stopped on third down at the Packer 29 with five yards to go, normally, it would be Coach Coughlin’s decision what to do on fourth down; kick a field goal, punt the ball back to the Packers or go for a first down. Instead, Tynes made the decision for him by sprinting onto the field, before Coughlin decided what he wanted to do.

Michael Eisen, writing for Giants.com reported that Tynes said, “I went out on the field and I didn’t wait for him to say, ‘Go kick.’ This way he would have had to pull me off the field if he didn’t want me to kick it.”

Luckily, our coach accepted Tynes’ cheeky move and let him kick.

Eisen added, “Jeff Feagles, the Giants’ punter and holder, figured he’d have to perform one of those duties on fourth down – he just didn’t know which one. ‘The next thing you know I saw Lawrence running on the field and I thought, ‘Well I guess he (Coughlin) must have said go for it.”

 The coach said later that since Tynes had so much confidence, he decided go for the field goal. We watched without much confidence, but Tynes kicked the 47-yarder straight, true and long enough to sail above the cross bar. Later, having the luxury of watching many replays, I saw the Giant linemen raise their arms as the kick sailed down field. Lawrence Tynes took one good look at the ball and then sprinted to the locker room in the opposite direction before the officials signaled that the kick was good. THE KICK WAS GOOD!

All hell broke loose at 27 Roger Drive. We hugged each other and shouted. Jodie and Mary Ann came running in, the phones started ringing, our daughter Beth called, the whole world called, Dave opened champagne, I broke open my Middleton Irish Whiskey, oh lordy, lordy! Celebration city!! …Only little Sammie slept through it all.

The Giants were the Champions of the National Football Conference. They had won three games all of them on the road against the Number 4, Number 1 and Number 2 Seeded Teams and they were going to Glendale, Arizona for Super Bowl XLII and SO WERE WE!

Part V: The Option

The Giants 2008 Improbable Playoff Season

As soon as the Cowboys game ended, I turned to Dave and said: “If the Giants beat the Packers, I’m going to take my son to the Super Bowl. I have no faith that I’ll get tickets through the Giant season ticket lottery and I’m not looking to sell the options that I bought. What are you going to do with your options?”

“I’m not going to try to sell mine either. I’m going to take my son, Tim.”

“Great.” I replied. I was not happy with the alternative airline options that I had secretly checked out on line and Dave had a good travel agent. So, I said, “Call your travel agent tomorrow and ask her to check out flights into Tucson, Las Vegas and even San Diego. Tucson should be our first choice. Don’t try US Air / America West as all their flights go through Phoenix and are sold out. Don’t forget Southwest, they have several flights out of Islip via connecting point like Chicago and Baltimore. We’ll need a hotel and a rental car. Make it a minivan as they’re the roomiest and tell her to use someone like Enterprise where they don’t kill you for extra drivers.” (They don’t call me Control for nothing)

I know this is all confusing, what options, what are you talking about? Okay, time out, here’s the story:

Late last January, a few days before Super Bowl XLI  was played, I saw an article in the Sports Section of The New York Times about some chap who had enough imagination to create a facility for fans to buy options for tickets to major sporting events. The site was called TicketRESERVE.com. They guaranteed that if your team got into the Super Bowl you, the option holder, would be able to purchase tickets to the game at face value. What a great idea. They must make a ton of money since only two teams go to the Super Bowl. Any fan who buys options for any of the other thirty teams is out of luck.

I Googled TicketRESERVE and found that the asking price for the Giants was $148.00. The opening asking price is based on the odds Vegas sets for each team to get to the Super Bowl. “What the hell,” I said to myself and bought two options. Total cost $316.72 including a transaction fee of $20.72. I told Dave Brackett about the site and he also purchased two options.

Dave’s agent, Debbie did well. She found the single daily Jet Blue flight, but when she realized that the outbound flight didn’t leave until 7:10 p.m. arriving in Tucson at 11:04 and the return was a red eye, she suggested American via Dallas. We could fly out on Saturday at 8:15 a.m., arrive in Tucson at 2:30 p.m., return on Monday leaving at 3:00 p.m. and return to LaGuardia at around midnight. She pre-booked the flight and also booked us into a Best Western in Marana, Arizona, 30 miles north of Tucson and about 100 miles south of Phoenix. A good distance to travel back from a Super Bowl, but it shouldn’t be a problem with four of us.

Our improbable journey continued. Adios to Tampa Bay, the NFC’s 4^th Seed, adios to Dallas, the 1^st Seed. Next up, the 2^nd Seed, the Packers in Green Bay.

The cold, the cold, the cold; that is what filled the endless space of the scribes and talking heads. Can Eli play in the cold? Can the Giants play in the cold? Should they wear gloves? The longer the week went on the colder the forecast became for the game on Sunday. The Patriots game was the so-called early game. Since it didn’t begin until 3:00 p.m. the Giants – Packers game wasn’t scheduled to start until 6:42 p.m. The prediction was for 2 or 3 degrees at the start with a wind chill factor of -20 to -25 degrees.

My feeling about the Giants lottery was confirmed on Saturday when I received the following message:

Dear Season Ticket Holder:

Thank you for purchasing 2007 season tickets and for your continued support of our team.

The allotment of Super Bowl tickets to participating teams is very limited. In order to distribute the tickets as fairly as possible, we have held a computer-generated lottery, weighed by seniority. We are sorry to inform you that your name WAS NOT SELECTED in this random drawing.

We wish we could have all of our fans with us in Arizona but unfortunately that is not possible.

Sincerely,

New York Football Giants

The irony not being selected didn’t happen until four years later on the Thursday morning before Super Bowl XLVI was to be played. My phone rang with a call from the Football Giants. The agent confirmed my identity then said, “I am happy to tell you that you won the lottery and you have two tickets waiting for you at the team’s office in East Rutherford, NJ. You will need to bring cash or a bank check for $700 for each ticket and you have to pick them up by 5 pm tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” I replied,  “but tomorrow I am scheduled to receive a new hip at Hospital for Special Surgery in Manhattan.”

“I see, well good luck.” And he hung up.

I was certain he was already speaking to another lucky fan who would be gleefully going to the game.

On the Outside Looking In will not publish on October 21,but should return for October 28.

The Giants 2008 Improbable Playoff Season

John Delach

October 2025

The prize for beating the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, the Number Four Seed, was the dubious privilege to play the Number One Seed in the NFC, the Dallas Cowboys in their home stadium.

Nobody, I say, nobody thought Big Blue would beat America’s Team and win this game. In fact, not a single Number One Seeded team had ever lost its first playoff game in eighteen years! Added to that, the Cowboys had beaten the Giants in both of their two regular season games played that year. The Cowboys were favored to win by 6 points.

Despite the odds, the Giants were playing with the house’s money. Going into the 2007 regular season, the Giants were suffering turmoil and controversy on the field and in the press. Coach Coughlin held his job by a thread and the teams early 0-2 start set the stage for the tom toms to starting beating his demise.

But once again, and I do love this because, when a team that is down and out upsets all of the pundits, experts and talking heads by snatching a victory from the jaws of defeat. It is a reminder of one of the basic tenants of sports: And That’s Why They Play the Game!

Game Three was an away game against the Redskins that began as a continuation of Big Blue’s poor showing in the first two games. By halftime, the Giants had sunk to a 14-point deficit as the Redskins led 17-3. Incredibly, New York rallied from this deficit and engineered a victory that included a game-ending goal line stand.

Wow, out of nowhere, with zero expectations, this victory launched the team on a six-game winning streak. Then, after they beat the winless Dolphins in a game the NFL showcased in London, they ran out of lousy teams. After a week off to re-adjust to Eastern Time, they lost to the Cowboys for the second time this season. The rollercoaster ride continued as they edged the Detroit Lions and the Chicago Bears, but lost to both the Minnesota Vikings and the Redskins.

The team was still adrift until the second half of the Buffalo Bills game that they won despite Eli Manning’s lackluster performance, when running back, Ahmad Bradshaw, scored on a long run and the defense returned a pass interception for a touchdown. The last game of the season was a total effort against the Patriots that, despite the loss, launched Big Blue into the playoffs.

The Cowboys were rightly confident that this was their game to win. To reinforce their confidence, their owner, Jerry Jones, declared that the game would be a white-out and instructed all fans planning to attend the game dress in white. He also left an envelope in each players’ locker containing two tickets to the NFC Championship Game to be played next weekend in Green Bay, Wisconsin.

Despite the hype, the Giants scored the first touchdown when Armoni Toomer turned a short pass into a long touchdown when the Dallas defenders failed to follow his moves after he caught the ball. Giants 7-0.

I watched the game at Dave Brackett’s house. Of course, we were pleased, but the Cowboys tied the score: 7-7. In the second quarter, Big Blue pinned the Cowboys deep in their territory as a result of the Giants punter, Jeff Feagles, giving Dallas terrible field position thanks to his coffin corner kick. But their quarterback, Tony Romo engineered a second long and damaging drive culminating in Dallas’ second touchdown: Cowboys 14-7 with 43 seconds left in the second quarter.

Dave and I groaned, especially when, Troy Aikman, doing the color on Fox, said: “The Giants have to move the ball down the field to score.”

Dave reacted to this: “Fat chance. Maybe, one or two shots, but that’s it.”

Instead, Manning moved them down the field hitting rookie, Steve Smith who was wrestled out of bounds by his face mask making the refs tack on 15 more yards. Then Manning advanced the ball by hitting Mike Boss and Toomer for a Giants touchdown. Halftime score: Giants 14-Cowboys 14.

We were stunned. We were still concerned by the message the Cowboys sent in the first half that they could move the ball on Big Blue, but still, the game was tied. The Giants defensive coordinator, Steve Spagnola decided to abandon the heavier pass coverage he used in the first half and throw everybody and their dogs directly against Romo to rattle him and disrupt the flow of the game.

It was at this point that the Cowboys decided to lose the game. First, they abandoned their effective running game. Second, they dropped a couple of passes that should have gone for big chunks of yardage and, third, Romo did become rattled. The Cowboys managed a field goal, but the Giants countered with a sustained drive and a rushing touchdown scored by running back, Brandon Jacobs. Jacobs almost blew the score by throwing the ball at the 24 second clock, but fortunately, the game officials chose not to throw a flag.

The game ended when the Giants intercepted a Romo pass that he threw in desperation. Final score Giants 21, Cowboys 17.

The look on their owner, Jerry Jones face, as he stood on the sideline when the game ended was priceless.

Next week the Giants would play the Green Bay Packers for the right to go to Super Bowl XLII.