"Romance is the douche of the bourgeoisie"

was the first thing she imparted to me.

- "San Francisco B.C." by the Silver Jews

My romance with this year's edition of the New York Giants ended Sunday, with their 23-11 loss to the Philadelphia Eagles at Giants Stadium, led by Philadelphia's Father of the Year Andy Reid and Super Bowl Chunky Soup puker Donovan McNabb. Am I bitter? No, I had reconciled to myself, and my inner Big Blue fan, that the Giants were heading in the wrong direction a long time ago. When wide out wacko, Plaxico Burress, put a bullet in his leg at The Latin Quarter to avoid the Vietnam Draft -- that was, for all purposes, the end of the season and the end of my romance with the 2008 Giants.

Loving a winning football team is easy. You see that football team once a week, usually a Sunday afternoon, for about three-and-a-half hours. During the week, you check in with your NFL favorite and see how it's doing, but there is no real commitment during the week. If you don't check in with the team, you still have a date set up for Sunday. It's a low maintenance affair, and all that is required from me is to clear my calendar for about three hours -- and occasionally find one of my two Giants hats to wear on game day. How hard is that?

It's analogous to that woman you only see on the weekend. You exchange some e-mails, some "I want you so badly" text messages and the occasional mid-week phone call where you're hoping to get her voice mail, so you can leave a clever message. It's easy, it's fun and you know you have a date set up for Friday, or Saturday night, with the implicit guarantee of drama-free sex. You really look forward to your Friday or Saturday nights with this lady - it's pain free.

Hell, on occasion, you'll even allow her to watch the Giants with you ... when the G Men play a non-divisional opponent. You really need to concentrate (No Distractions!) when the Giants play the Cowboys, Eagles or Redskins and shopping with the girls is always a great suggestion on those days. Your relationship was perfect until Plaxico Burress shot himself in the leg.

This was no longer a drama-free relationship, with the attractive promise of great sex, but now I needed to manage the relationship. I needed to check on the team daily to see how the Burress affair was playing itself out in the papers. I needed to watch middle linebacker Antonio Pierce's play decline, as the season progressed, which can or can't be connected to his attempt to cover up for Plaxico illegally carrying a concealed weapon in the state of New York.

Without Plaxico starting at wide receiver, I watched Eli Manning struggle to connect with a group of mediocre receivers. In this group of wide receivers, there was no Spider Man, who could launch himself over a defender and pluck one of Eli's projectiles out of the air. There was no Girl Gone Wild in this group, but a collection of solid but unspectacular wide receivers. This isn't the woman I first started dating - where was the spark and where was the low- maintenance guarantee of drama-free sex? I am now in a serious relationship - when did this happen?

I had to watch All-World defensive end Justin Tuck play on one leg at the end of  the year. At this point in the season, I am now constantly searching for injury updates on Tuck's leg. Any news today? How about homeopathic therapies for the leg, such as rubbing mud on it? And how was running back Brandon Jacobs healing from his knee injury? I checked on Tuesday, but will he be ready to go on game day? Without Earth, there is no earth, wind and fire in the Giants backfield.  

What happened to the 11-1 New York Giants that provided drama-free sex? The more time and effort I put into this relationship, the more things soured between the two of us. I wanted it to go back to what it was.

Baby girl, I miss you! Send me a dirty text message, tell me you're a bad, bad girl and that it's all going to be better. I'll even see you during the week if that's what it takes. C'mon, I really want to work this out. Do you want to do a yoga class on Tuesday nights? Join a book club? I need you!

The Giants I watched on Sunday lost four of their last five games to end the year in an ignominious fashion. Super Bowl repeat -- GONE! In a flash, to a Philadelphia Eagles team that had benched quarterback Donovan McNabb earlier in the year. The Eagles have a great defense, but this team did not put together a body of work that deserves to play in the NFC Championship game.

The NFL is a four-act play and the Eagles are hot at the right moment. The season can be broken down to: the preseason, the first-half of the regular season, the second half of the regular season and then the postseason playoff tournament. To successfully complete this four-act romantic production, the Giants needed to stay healthy and avoid self-inflicted gunshot wounds.

The Eagles are currently "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof" and the Giants were obviously rehearsing for Neil Simon's "Goodbye Girl." The Giants entered the tournament a shell of their former selves and avid Giants fans knew the Eagles were a bad match-up for the G Men. 

Where do the Giants and our relationship go from here? Oh, I'm in it for the long haul. I'll be there with them through free agency, the draft and mini camp. I'll put more effort into reigniting the easy passion that burned our mutual fire, and I'll eventually acknowledge that 11-1 was a cruel illusion. 11-1 was all fantasy  and losing to the Eagles was punishment for taking my baby for granted.

That's right, I'll be back with my baby girl next year. The Giants need to upgrade at linebacker - I'll do my research and know who is available in free agency and in the draft. Where will free agent running backs Derrick Ward and Brandon Jacobs end up? Jacobs said he is going to follow the presidents to his personal fortune and Ward desires to be a primary back in the NFL, but where does all of this leave the two of us on Sunday afternoons?

Next September, I know I'll be back in front of the television rooting for my New York Giants. When I was a kid, I used to meet my girl after church, but now I meet her with a sandwich and a few beers in front of the tube. The passion still burns.

Baby, I'll be back.