Go, Pack, Go!

I grew up watching sports on TV.  My father was a bit of a television dictator.  Basketball, baseball, football, golf, women's softball, drag races, tennis.  We watched it all. 

Sometimes we watched more than one game at a time flipping back and forth every few minutes.  This happened at a greater rate during March Madness, the Olympics, and on Sunday.  Apparently, Sunday is the unofficial official day for the most boring sports on TV. 

Painful.

Kill me now.

Since escaping the grip Dad had on the remote control in my childhood home, I have avoided a great majority of sports.  I still watch quite a bit of the Olympics when they roll around.  I watched some rugby once.  That was interesting.  I like the vocabulary.  Scrum. 

I also watch football.  NFL football.  Green Bay Packer football!  


Yes, I am a Packer fan.  No I am not a Bears fan.  Get over it.  

Most people are fans due to their geography.  People who live near Chicago default to being Bears fans.   People who live in Indiana are Colts fans.  I am not that simple.  

I will admit that before I knew any better I liked Jim McMahon.  He wore sweet sunglasses.

See

When I was about nine years old, our family was going on vacation to Door County, Wisconsin.  Because I was nine-ish and my brother was seven-ish, my parents decided to make the drive in two parts.  This plan gave us time to make a lot of fun stops.  Dad wanted to see Lambeau Field.

It is green.

As we drove into the parking lot, Dad exclaimed, "Ray Nitschke just waved at me!"  Adam and I were confused.  Was this a good thing?  What was a Nitschke?

Obviously, something was up.

Obviously, we were going to find out what that something was.

We parked and followed the crowd across the street to the practice field.  Dad thought that they might be having a scrimmage.  How cool would that have been!  

What was actually happened was even cooler!

It was...

MEET AND PHOTOGRAPH THE PACKERS DAY!!!

So, we met the Packers.  And we had pictures taken with the Packers.  Wouldn't this be a great place to put those pictures...  Mom... wouldn't it?   She says they are somewhere.

My stories of the day will have to suffice.

As I said above, I was nine-ish.  I remember the highlights.  

This was not the Packers of Aaron Rodgers.  This was not the Packers of Brett Favre.  I can't tell you one name of one player that was there that day.  I do remember waiting in a short line to get a young quarterback's autograph.  When we got to the front of the line, he scooped me up and plopped me on his shoulder.  Dad promptly asked if he wanted help with the other one.  He set me down before Mom even thought to snap the picture.  

Later, across the field, we came upon a player sitting with his legs out in a V.  Even sitting, he was about four feet tall.  He had his head down while he wrote his autograph for the kid ahead of us.  Dad told Adam and I to jump on him and tackle him.  I am sure my eyes about popped out of my head.  I got his autograph despite the terror running over me in waves.

After we got our fill of pictures and autographs, we went to the Packer Hall of Fame and Gift Shop.  I got some sweet sunglasses.

Like these, only dorkier.

I remember a few details of the rest of the vacation.  There was water.  There were seagulls.  We ate cheese curds.  

Geography didn't cut it for me.  I needed to meet my team.  

I have not faltered from that day.  They were not a great team then.  They were not a good team then.  I was still a fan.

Now, they are the defending Superbowl Champions.  So, that's nice.  I knew they would do it.  I know they will do it again.

I now know who Ray Nitschke is.  I now know that he was actually waving at me that day.