Everything that you might think would exist or happen around
a Green Bay Packers game, really does.
It is the stuff of myth and legend and hyperbole, come to glorious
green-and-gold life in small-city Wisconsin.
If you are going to a Packers game from Milwaukee, you want
to get an early start because it takes about two hours to get to Green Bay. It’s pretty quiet in the city at 8:30 on a
Sunday morning, but you feel just a little excited as you pass a bus ad for
Donald’s McDonald’s[1]
or a pawnshop promising Green For Your Gold!
You know what these insider puns
refer to, and you think, we are part of the party! You might wonder what those buses are doing
idling outside of bars so early on a Sunday, then you see a guy shuffling
across the street in his coat with a great big G on the back, and you say oh of
course, they are going to the game, too.
More of the party. You will
probably pass the bus later on the highway or vice versa. But you’ll be driving carefully because the
Wisconsin State Troopers know that there is a game today too.
It’s a pretty drive up highway 43, through flat,
snow-covered classically midwestern farmland.
Lots of barns and siloes and sometimes a pretty stone farmhouse are on
both sides of the road, all picturesquely frosted with snow, with regular
church steeples punctuating the horizon.
This is God’s country, and Romney-ville, and gun-totin’ deer-huntin’
land, but you know, we’re all feeling accommodating today. Petty politics cannot divide a people united
for Packer victory. Lots of cars pass
with little G flags flying off their sides, and G’s on their rears. In that car, we spy a pair of feet on the
dashboard, clad in green and gold striped socks. Here goes a green bus called the “Partridge
Family Party Bus” with a giant platform on top (which is six inches deep with
snow). There’s a minivan full of cheerfully
round people, thanks to the multiple layers they are wearing. And of course those buses from the Milwaukee
bars are part of the caravan. It’s a
straight shot north and we all drive with a sense of mission.
Eventually, you start to see the signs for the Austin
Straubel International Airport which means you are near Green Bay. Then, in the distance, shimmering in the
watery winter sun, Lambeau Field rises like a great fortress from the
surrounding countryside. You all cheer,
and put your boots back on.
Parking at Lambeau is reserved for season ticket holders but
since the stadium is basically in a residential neighborhood, you just park on
someone’s front lawn and pay $5, $10, or $20 for the privilege, a little extra
if you want to set up your tailgate there.
It is clear that the neighbors, and the landscaping/snow removal
businesses of Green Bay, are fiscal beneficiaries of the stadium’s presence in
their backyard. But here’s the
thing: sure, people come from Appleton
and Milwaukee and even Chicago or Minnesota – but most folks at this game are
locals. It’s the thing to do in Green
Bay on a Sunday (which begs the question of what do they do for entertainment
the rest of the year? Probably the same
thing, grilling brats and drinking beer, they just don’t go to a football game
afterwards.).
We leave our cozy car, and swaddled in our own multiple
layers of fleece, wool, and Thinsulate, join the throngs walking the two very
short blocks to the stadium. Peter has a
cheesehead, Bill has his magnificent G coat, and Isabel fits right in with her
blaze orange Packers watch cap. I’m
sorry to say that my camel hair coat appears more suited for Harvard's stadium than
Lambeau, but you know I can fit a LOT of layers under it including my A-Rod
jersey and it keeps my butt warm which is really the most important thing. Anyway, it is thrilling to see SO MUCH
Packers gear worn so proudly. We feel
that we have found our people. Our heads
swivel back and forth taking in all the many variations on green and gold and
blaze orange and hunting camo and Carhartt.
The crowd stops at the intersection, politely waiting for the cop to
signal us across, then surges toward its goal.
A few more steps and we’re there – through security (hello 21st
century America) and IN to Lambeau Field.
Bathroom stops, a spin to the (mercifully) heated Atrium,
then bratwurst and fried cheese curd procurement are priorities. Peter and I go ahead to our seats, emerging
into the bowl itself, is that an angelic chorus that accompanies our first live
view of the Frozen Tundra?[2] We are much closer to the field than I
expected, on the Packers’ side, on the 20 yard line. Peter informs me that the screen looming over
each end of the surprisingly intimate stadium is called the Tundratron (you’d
know it as a Jumbotron). This is like
the Fenway Park of football stadiums, if there is a bad seat, I can’t figure
out where it is. And it is ALL GREEN AND
GOLD. I guess that if I were a Tennessee
fan, I wouldn’t come up to northern Wisconsin in December either, but there is
really NO ONE here for the Titans. By
the end of the day, I have spotted four people wearing Titans gear. Isabel speculates that the guy wearing a
Titans jersey and a Packers hat probably got cold and had to buy a hat. Clever girl.
If you’ve never been to a an actual live professional
football game, it is very very exciting to see your team emerge on to the field
in real time, even if you can’t see them quite as well as you might if you were
sitting in front a TV somewhere, warm, and cozy, and warm (banish that
thought). We thrill to co-captain Clay
Matthews who runs on helmet-less, tossing his long blond mane for the coin toss
like the Viking demigod that he is. We
shout our heads off when A-Rod is announced of course and look for Angela’s Boyfriend.[3] The Packers’ cheerleaders are the squad from
local St. Norbert’s College; no professional dancers in sparkly getups
here. There is a drumline, known as,
yes, the Tundraline. And the fans
ourselves are called the G-Force: POWER
FROM THE PEOPLE. There are actually signs in the stadium that
say this. I think it follows from all of
this that people here actually sing the national anthem along with the
celebrity singer, and then of course cheer wildly for the flyover which for
this game is two Coast Guard helicopters from USCG Air Station Traverse City,
MI.
Are you getting the picture?
And this game hasn’t even started yet!
We’ve met our seatmates, a pretty gal whose
great-grandmother bought season tickets when the Packers were founded in 1923,
before there even was a Lambeau Field. I
guess that’s about as good a pedigree as you can have here. She’s with some collection of family members,
and a friend from Minnesota who is gamely cheering for the Packers, and all are
getting slightly sloshed as the game carries on. Peter Laskin, in the aisle seat, masterfully handles
the myriad back-and-forth exchanges of money and beer with the beah-heah guys. Here in Wisconsin people even tip the beah
guys.
Here are some of the conversations I had with my
seatmates.
Mary from MN: is this
a Christmas gift for the kids?
Me: Actually for all of us. We’re from Boston.
Mary from MN: no way.
As the game progresses, Mary from MN shouts HEY BOSTONITES
whenever something particularly exciting happens.
At halftime:
Green Bay Season Ticket Gal:
you know, I think the Packers should change their colors to green and
blaze orange. They go really well
together!
Me (surveying the crowd):
well, you do see a lot of it here.
Green Bay Season Ticket Gal:
yeah, and people already have it.
Sometime during the second half:
Me: so, what do you
do in Minnesota?
Mary from MN: I work
for the Veterans Administration
Me: Oh, you all do
good work. My dad is ill, and has gotten
some wonderful support from the VA in Colorado –
Both: (announcer: “time
for another Packers”) FIRST DOWN!
Mary: That’s
great. What does he have, if I may ask?
Me: ALS
Mary (looking concerned):
oh gosh . . . um . . .
Me: yeah
Mary: I mean, I don’t
want to say – because some people don’t know
Both: (announcer: “time
for another Packers”) FIRST DOWN!
Mary: you know, the
prognosis . . .
Me: yes, we know how
it’s going, it’s not good
Mary: because some
people don’t know and it’s hard to diagnose.
I hope he’s gotten full benefits
Me: yes, they were
very generous and I was surprised
Both:
TOUCHDOWN!! WOOHOO! (high fives all around)
Me: I was surprised
at how much they did do, it’s pretty amazing
Mary: well, that’s
because the prognosis can be very bad, and the time is so short
(stand up for the kickoff, sit down again)
Mary: so you really
want to make sure that he’s getting everything he can
Me: oh yes
Both: INTERCEPTION!!
Mary: because I mean
hell, if someone’s taking a bullet for me then they should get everything they
can
Both: FIRST DOWN!
Mary: you know what
I’m saying?
Me: absolutely
And so it went. I
should point out that we never actually look at each other during this entire
exchange, because we are watching the game, and intermittently standing up and
sitting down in unison, while talking, when it looks like something exciting is
going to happen.
Well, if you watched the game or read the newspapers, you
know that it was a rout of epic proportions.
The Packers just destroyed the Titans, and we see it all – we see A-Rod
run in for a touchdown right in front of us, we see Clay get some sacks, we saw
Lambeau Leaps, and we see Mason Crosby redeem himself with a 48 yard field
goal. We eat brats and two boats of
fried cheese curds which are really good except that they solidify pretty
quickly in the cold. We shout GO PACK GO
and FIRST DOWN. We sing Roll Out The Barrel
and dance Gangnam Style in our coats.
And we never ever once feel like idiots because everyone else is doing
it too. Except maybe for the dour guy in
the blaze orange hunting cap behind us, with the earphones. He did not dance Gangnam Style but he may
have rolled out the barrel.
By half way through the 4th quarter, it is
apparent that the Packers are going to win, and a number of folks start
leaving. Not us, we Laskins stay until
the very end, watching players wish us a merry Christmas on the Tundratron, and
singing along with “And So This Is Christmas” as we make our way out. A small crowd is gathered near the matching
statues of Curly Lambeau and Vince Lombardi, taking pix, and we join in. Near the statues stand three hunting-gear-clad
fans, each carrying a sign with the logo of a divisional rival (Lions, Vikings,
Bears) saying, in a row:
STINK
STANK
STUNK.
The Grinch is
green.
It is hard to know which to take a picture of first – the
stinkstankstunk guys, or the fellow with the helmet and sparkly green platform
shoes, or Peter Laskin striking a Lombardi-esque pose. We are sorry that we could not get a good
focus on the hat that featured a ten-inch-tall foam sculpture of Clay Matthews
with a lantern jaw. And it might have
been considered harassment to take a picture of the couple wearing boots, ski
pants, hats, and nothing else except green and gold body paint (OK she had a
bikini top on). And we only saw Frozen
Tundra Man on the Tundratron – he wears a cheesehead-shaped hat that says
FROZEN TUNDRA and appears to made of beer cans with icicles that drip from the
hat to his sunglasses to his beard.
Isabel is asleep within about five minutes of hitting the
highway. We drive home with the heater
on full blast, listening to the exhaustive and exhausting two-hour game recap
on The Packers Radio Network. The skies
turn mackerel violet and gold as Anne Shirley would say, and then blue as the
sun sets, and the Christmas lights come out on the farmhouses and barns. There are a few lighted stars high up on
siloes. We can’t see in the neighboring
cars now, but we know that they are also full of tired happy Packer fans just
like us.
[1]
That’s Donald Driver, Packers receiving great, and winner of Dancing With the
Stars 2012.
[2]
The tundra at Lambeau is not actually frozen.
In fact, it is heated so that it is not too hard for gamedays.
[3]
Donald Driver. Not really, but we love
him at my office, he’s wicked handsome, and Angela has a little DD bobblehead.
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