Alright. So my team lost.

I know, I know… I live in New York, I’m supposed to support the Giants, the Rangers, the Yankees, the Jets, the Knicks… and even the Mets.

Well maybe not the Mets.

And I would have supported those Giants, had it been any other Super Bowl. But you see, the Patriots and I go way back. In fact we go back to 8^th grade when my mother made me pick an NFL team so that “I’d like football.”

And I picked them because I saw them help an opposing player off the field in 2002 (I know... a very factually-based decision on my part).

And then I got really lucky.

In fact, I was so lucky I think my mother was secretly furious I’d picked a continuously Super Bowl-worthy team while the poor Redskins were blown to smithereens.

(It’s okay Mom. One day they will rise again).

Unfortunately this time, we lost.

C’est la vie.

Let the streets of New York riot.

I just simply cannot join in.

But here’s the thing…

Who is the real winner in this situation?

The Giants, I suppose.

But also…

ME.

Why?

Leftovers.