In my childhood home of St. Paul, Minnesota, the prevailing attitude towards football was always one of apathy, occasionally interrupted by periods of deep depression. It was a rare year when the University of Minnesota Gophers made a decent bowl game. Our lousy high school football team was very unpopular, and fell into the shadow of the dominant powerhouse ice hockey team. The pro team, the Minnesota Vikings, were the poster children for eternal disappointment. Every time it seemed like they were making a run at the NFL playoffs, they found inventive and cruel ways to spontaneously combust and let us down. I was not a fan of the sport as I entered college in 2003. Little did I know that three years later, I would be able to say differently.
In the fall of 2006, I accompanied my then-boyfriend (and a Wisconsin native) of nine months to his parents' home in the western suburbs one Sunday. It was then I discovered their family's not-so-secret obsession - the NFL, and more specifically, the Green Bay Packers. We were led down into their basement where two TVs were set up side-by-side, so that two games could be viewed at all times. A variety of snacks were laid out lovingly on the coffee table. A pot of chili warmed on the stove, a perfect meal for our northern climate, which was growing frigid rapidly. The whole family was wearing green and yellow, a bold color combination in my opinion. We piled onto comfy couches to watch the first games of the day, and did not move. For the next 8 hours. And this was not a casual, have the game on in the background and engage in idle chatter type of viewing. Their eyes were glued, their muscles were tensed, and screams of horror and triumph echoed through the household every few plays. I, who did not know quarterback from cornerback, felt like I was on Mars.
But over the next few years (and many marathon Sundays), football began to grow on me. Before I knew what was happening to me, I could rattle off the names of all the quarterbacks in the league, found myself uttering profanities about Troy Aikman's lack of play-by-play capabilities, shrieked with delight whenever Clay Matthews was about to make a big sack, and had a startlingly large collection of the afore-mentioned green and yellow clothing. A few weeks after our wedding, we traveled to Green Bay on Thanksgiving Day weekend to see the Packers take on the Carolina Panthers at Lambeau Field. The stadium there had an aged and mystical quality to it, like if you leaned in close enough you could hear the voices and stories of all the players and championships that had come before. At game time the temperature was somewhere around 25 degrees, and by halftime it began to snow. I wore bulky snowpants with longjohns underneath, a definite fashion milestone for me. Weather like that hardly seems like it would evoke a party atmosphere, but the Green Bay fans were loyal, loud, and jovial (in most cases aided by alcoholic beverages). It was a really fun experience, and they didn't even win the game.
Now every autumn, no matter where the military takes us, DirecTV provides us the NFL package so that we never miss a Green Bay game, or any other game for that matter. Football Sundays are tradition. My husband awakes early in the morning to listen to the Packer Preview (on Minnesota sports radio) which is now on at 6am in our Pacific time zone, making it even more impressive. Usually we start prepping a delicious meal in the crockpot in the late morning, so it will be ready to eat by game time. The puppies don their Pack Attack bandanas, and we pull on our jerseys. The games begin, and we are riveted. Last year was a roller coaster (and Buster spent most of it hiding behind the couch, afraid of all the yelling), ending with an exciting win for the Packers in the Super Bowl. It will be challenging for them to top last year, to say the least. But I will hope for another Lombardi Trophy in 2012, because I am now admittedly, a devoted member of "The Pack."
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