Packer Pride

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This is probably the only post I’ll ever write about sports.

I never played sports, unless you count the one time I played field hockey in tenth grade and broke my little toe in the very first practice. I was the dorky kid who was in the dark room printing yearbook photos instead of whacking a ball around whilst wearing a short plaid kilt. Funny how the girls’ uniforms were so, so…small. I have always lacked balance, coordination, overall athletic prowess. Coupled with a severe dislike for all things sporty, it’s no surprise that I generally read trashy magazines while Mac Daddy watches <<insert “the game” here.>> I’m all about noshing on game day apps (that’s FOOD, not techie talk) and drinking a Fat Tire or two. I’ll gladly wear team regalia and cheer when everyone else whoops it up. Oddly enough, I always cry in sports movies and even found myself all choked up when little five year old Bird, clad in gray polyester baseball pants and a way-too-big orange jersey, was up to bat in pee wee T-ball.

I see the benefits of sports. I truly do appreciate the value and life lessons. I love the feeling of home team pride and camaraderie among fans. I get it. I’m bummed I never got to experience sports culture firsthand. I’m compensating for it now because I married a Cheesehead. There is no place on earth that emanates sports pride more glowingly than Lambeau Field. I’ve been there a few times and even kicked looked foolish trying to kick a field goal at the Packer Hall of Fame. I get sucked into the green and gold vortex and find myself suddenly really needing that big G quilted tea cozy, matching grill cover, and set of Christmas lights. Even Mac Daddy didn’t look at one single price tag as we all grabbed Packer paraphernalia as if we were competing in one of those stuff-everything-you-can-in-your-cart-in-one-minute game shows.

The boys had a blast at Lambeau Field. It’s no hyperbole to say that their reaction walking into the stadium was like some of the nuns we saw filing past the gates of Vatican City. Bird might have even wiped a tear from his eye. It was that or the blistery cold wind whipping us across the parking lot. Deal was an enthusiastic trooper, astounded that we were seeing the real field. The Packers do an outstanding job with their Hall of Fame. Even I, a sports version of a Luddite, was engrossed. And in typical Ilina character, I got weepy during the videos of the game day this and thats and upon seeing the three Lombardi trophies. We got to walk through the player tunnel and see the field from their perspective, minus 70,000 cheering, and perhaps slightly inebriated, fans. It was moving. Truly.

I am admittedly a Packer fan by marriage. But boy, I caught the green and gold bug. Having experienced the Green Bay Packers through victory and loss, I can say that the fans are the most passionate, dedicated, and loyal as they come. No sense in being a fair weather fan in a place that’s a tundra nine months out of the year. Fair weather is relative, right? There is certainly passion among Packers, and making room for another namesake Lombardi trophy would make tears flow in Titletown. Then again, it could also be that pesky wind. I mean, a grown man wouldn’t cry over a little football game, right? Um yeah, scratch that.

Bird and Deal are of course loyal Packer fans. Bird is currently obsessed with all things football. Deal has an old #4 Favre jersey that he wore when he was two that he tried to squeeze into for the playoff game against Chicago yesterday. Needless to say, he was stuck and needed help getting it off. We found a much more comfortable Aaron Rodgers T-shirt for him to wear. We all watched the game, though I did find time to catch up on some light reading too. It was a perfect way to spend a cold Sunday afternoon and really experience the glory of an obnoxious yet satisfyingly large TV. We all cheered when Raji made a touchdown, and beamed til our jaws ached when Rodgers kneeled to let time run out to cement a Packer win. Family bonding at its finest. Packer football at its finest hour. That’s what corporate schmoes call a win-win.

Now when I hear that loud dude yell, “Are you ready for some football?!” I’ll yell back an equally loud  “Hell yea!”

On February 6 we’ll be donning our Packer pride and fighting over who gets to wear the Cheesehead (yes, we only have one!). We’ll serve up some bratwurst, cheese curds, and beer as we cheer our way to a Packer victory.

Go Pack Go!