A chilly day in December. From a house in my neighborhood the words "What the Hell was that?" and "No. No, Nooooooo!!!"

These cries of anguish were usually followed up by a hurled remote and "Kids, here's 25 bucks for pizza. Daddy's head hurts and he's going out to start a bar fight." This house, as you (and CPS) now know, is my house. The pain of being a Giant fan was more pronounced this year than it had ever been recently, mostly because you never knew what team you were going to get.

Would they be the guys that shellacked the 49ers or the pack of quitters that got spanked in Atlanta? As the season went on, holes were exposed. Now they must be filled.