The Enemy of My Enemy Is Still My Enemy

As everyone in America slogs through their day today with the bleary-eyed sense of vulnerability and wonder that usually accompanies a collective sense of upheaval, of realization that the universe as we thought we knew it is irrevocably changed and may not in fact ever have been the stable force we imagined it to be... as everyone deals with this disorienting new world order, let me tell you people that I, Large, am experiencing the overall disorientation doubly more than anyone I know today, disorientation accompanied by a mild dose of nausea and shame.

I mean, last night I passionately rooted for the New York Giants to win a football game. I got nervous for them, I felt that sick-to-my-stomach feeling of doubt, I had the whole "please-God-just-let-it-all-work-out" feeling that I NEVER EVER feel for anyone but the Phils and the Eagles and every so often a fighter that I have some personal connection to. And today, I have to confess, it hasn't worn off. It's like I got ridiculously drunk and hooked up with some girl I've always hated, and instead of feeling utter revulsion when I wake up beside her in the sober light of morning, I'm like, "hey there sugar, you know, I'm still digging you, let's have breakfast and hold hands..."

I honestly can't remember ever feeling the same way about any other of my sworn sporting enemies. Cowboys - no way. Celtics - uh, no. Mets - no. Well, maybe a little with the Mets. 2006 NLCS against the Cards after Endy Chavez made that catch, I remember thinking, "you know they deserve it, I hope they pull it out." But then when they lost, it was like, "ah fuck it, I love it when the Mets lose."

I guess what this Giants thing boils down to is that the enemy of your enemy can indeed become your very close friend. Nevertheless I just want the universe to go on notice that this shit is not permanent. There's this great Richard Pryor routine, much beloved by me and Morty Bravo, in which he talks about mourning the death of his pet monkeys on the back steps of his house when his neighbor's Doberman jumps the fence and comes over to console him (ah, the visions of a freebasing genius). Usually this dog terrorizes Pryor on a daily basis, but on this occasion he sees Richard crying and puts their feud on hold to offer his support.

After they've talked, though, as he's walking back towards his yard, he turns around and says, "Hey Rich." And Pryor says, "What?" And the Doberman says, "You know I'm a be chasing you again tomorrow right?"

To that, I say damn straight dog. Eli Manning, Michael Strahan, Coughlin, the whole gang... you enjoy your day in the sun cause you earned it and I applaud you. But don't you fools go getting too cozy round the way cause, well... you know I'm a be chasing you again tomorrow.