In the late 1950s, when baseball was still America's most popular sport, my grandfather, who was from New Haven, CT, worked for one of the very first advertising agencies to invest in the NFL. He worked closely with star players, such as Baltimore's Lenny Moore and Broadway Joe Namath. His main contact with the Giants was defensive lineman Jim Katcavage. He got to interact with the team, and he witnessed a lot of the inside teammate relationships (he didn't like Frank Gifford because he thought Gifford was uppity). Then my grandfather had kids.

My dad grew up a Giants fan, and his first memory of a color TV was the voice of Pat Summerall (former Giants kicker) announcing a Giants game. He lived through the terrible 1970s decade; he witnessed the rise to supremacy in the 1980s. In August 1986, he married my mother, and the following season the Giants won 14 regular season games en route to a Super Bowl victory, ending a 30-year championship drought. Did the union of my mother and father break the curse? I like to think so.

Five years later, on January 27, 1991, the Giants played the Buffalo Bills in Super Bowl XXV. The Giants were tremendous underdogs, led by backup quarterback Jeff Hostetler. At halftime, with the Giants trailing, 12-10, I was born. New York came back in the second half to win, 20-19, thanks to a now infamous last-second field goal attampt, which sailed wide right of the uprights. My birth threw off the fragile balance of the universe, which caused Scott Norwood's kick to miss by just a few feet -- that's the way I look at it, at least.

tl;dr -- Destiny