Congential heart failure. She was 80.
She didn't know a thing about football, but she knew I loved the Giants, and win or lose, she'd call me on Sunday nights during the season to see how I was doing.
Growing up, Sunday dinner was almost always at my grandparent's house (my mom's parents). We'd get up early, go to church, and make the drive from Long Island to Brooklyn (82nd St. & 13th Ave.), arriving in time to catch that week's Abbott & Costello movie. If the Giants were playing at 1:00 pm, I'd usually get a "special dispensation" to watch the game in my grandfather's "TV room." 4:00 pm games allowed me to enjoy Nana's regularly scheduled Huge Italian Sunday Feast before adjourning to the TV rom, cannolis in hand.
I was living at home during the 1986 season. I'd gotten out of the Army a couple of years earlier, went back and finished college, and was working full-time. Commuting from Long Island to Manhattan every day was a pain, though, and I was planning on moving into the city sooner rather than later, but at that time, I was still living with my parents. Sunday dinners at Nana and Grandpa's were no more. Grandpa had long since passed, and it wouldn't be long before Nana was living with us.
I had to pay rent. No free rides from Mom & Dad. And if I wanted to watch the Giants game in the den, where the "big" color TV was (instead of watching it in my bedroom on a 13-inch black and white), I had chores to do first. Dust and vacuum the whole house (five bedroom colonial), clean three bathrooms, mop the floor - kitchen and dinette, foyer and den around the carpet.
That '86 season was special in many ways. It's the first time my mom took an interest in the Giants. My dad could not care less - he wasn't a sports fan at all - but my mom, I guess, kind of liked hanging out with her Prodigal Son, and got caught up in my excitement.
She didn't really know what was going on with the game (I could never get her to stop calling a "sack" a "zap"), but in times of crisis (like 4th and 17 in Minnessota) she'd break out the rosary beads and say a novena. She loved Bill Parcells - he looks like Frankie Lattaraca's father, from the old neighborhood - and Phil Simms - he's such a nice-looking boy - and, of course, Mark Bavaro, whom she regularly referred to as The Adonis, lol.
Over the years, in addition to the phone calls on Sundays, there was always something Giants-related for Christmas or my birthday, even if it was something small like a mug or a t-shirt. She never forgot. And when I'd go to training camp, I'd always bring her back a souvenir. The singing teddy bear was her favorite...even when it eventually stopped singing.
I'll never forget my phone ringing after the victory in Super Bowl 42. It was mom, of course. I was like, Mom, you're still up? And she was like, Of course! Even your father stayed awake! You must be on Cloud Nine! Of course I was.
Man, I really miss those Sunday night calls. Definitely could have used a few over the last three years. Heavy sigh.
Mom, if you're listening...the weather in San Francisco is supposed to be bad. I could really use another novena.
Nice post.
God Bless you man !!
When my mom called later on that night and I told her that, the first thing she said was, "Did you put a jacket on?"
Here's to tons of zaps by Big Blue today..!!!!
Klaatu- great post. God Bless
87giants91 - so sorry for your loss.
I at least was 43 when my mom died. my chldren were half that age when their mom died and that was tough. i had to break the news to my son in the persian gulf by phone, not easy even for a physician practiced at delivering bad news. its never easy. my thoughts are with you.
All In!