"Strawberry shortcake, a huckle-a-berry pie.
V - I - C - T - O - R - Y.
Are we in it?  Well, I guess.
The Giants, the Giants, YES, YES, YES!!" 

That was my Dad Harry's cheer.

My mom always said that she married my dad for his Giants tickets.  They met at a party and found that they were both big fans.  Harry was not only a fan.  He was a New York Daily News reporter who wrote about them, and he got season tickets, which sparked my mom's interest.

That night she went home and told my grandmother that she wished Harry would ask her out to a Giant's game.  My grandmother advised her to say a novena to St. Joseph, and my mom started one that night.  A week later my dad called and invited her to a Giants game, and two months later they were engaged.  They married within a year and had my sister, me, and my little brother.

As kids, sometimes my parents took us with them to Giants games.  We would get bundled up, pile in our big black Checker and drive to the Bronx to the old Yankee stadium, where they played in those days.  Our seats were behind the players' wives, and we sat next to a bearded doctor who smoked cigars and toted a shiny mini-bar with flasks and shot glasses.

I couldn't see the game very well, and mostly remember the behind view of those screaming wives with their well-coiffed 60's hair, the smell of cigars and booze, and warming up with my mom under her big fluffy coat my dad bought her for the games.

During football season in our house there was always the sound of a game on.  My dad drew us detailed diagrams and went over plays with us, and he taught us the Strawberry Shortcake cheer.  He'd line us up and we'd sing out his pep song, giving the YES, YES, YES our all, fists pumping!   

When my parents retired, if there was a game on, my dad would make sandwiches and coffee, put on his special football-watching windbreaker, and they'd descend to the basement TV room.  If something exciting happened, you could hear them scream throughout the house.  Somehow their enthusiasm felt like they were back in old Yankee Stadium again.  

My dad passed away five years ago, after a year-long illness.  He was home till the last couple of days, my mom caring for him.  I doubt if they ever missed a game.  The day he died I sat next to him on the hospital bed and thanked him for all he'd done for me in my life, which was a lot, and told him he was my hero.  And I sang him our Strawberry Shortcake cheer.  He kept moving his head closer to me on the pillow, and my mom said he could hear me.  The day of his funeral the Giants played and won.  

My beloved nephew, godson and first grandchild to my parents always watches the games with my mom now, and sometimes a bunch of us do.  We do our best to ease my mom's loneliness without Harry by her side.  Tonight there is a game on and if the Giants win, they will be in the Super Bowl.

Maybe my dad would have asked my mom out anyway, and maybe she still would have said her novena that first night.  But I can't help wondering, if it weren't for the New York Giants, would I be here?