Green Bay Packer fans are EVERYWHERE. Trust me, when you least expect it, a zealous fan sporting the big, green G will be in line behind you (sometimes inebriated or well on the way). This very scene played out for me in the NEW DELHI AIRPORT, as in INDIA. And once again on a cruise to TORTOLA where an entire group of workers from Manitowoc were on a company incentive trip. Those guys wore Packer cummberbunds and bowties on formal night. Clearly the definition of "formal attire" differs regionally.
So I married a Packer fan. Luckily the colors don't suck. It would have been awful to marry a Dolphins fan. Teal and orange? Sheesh. I can live with green and gold...more green than gold is more flattering for everyone. My husband, henceforth known as Mac Daddy for purposes of this blog, is from Wisconsin, which makes him a die hard Packer fan. It's like being born in the U.S. to become a citizen automatically. He can't help being a Packer fan; he was BORN one. Since we have been married for over five years, assuming the same citizenship rules apply, I am a Packer fan now too. Our children, because their dad was BORN a Packer fan, are naturally fans too. Blood runs green and gold, as they say in 'Sconsin. My guys stop short of face paint and the regular Lambeau Field brouhaha, but we have all forms of Packer gear known to man: hats, shirts, #4 jerseys, slippers, pennants, and even Christmas ornaments. I myself have an awfully cute pink Packer baseball cap (proceeds benefit breast cancer research). You too can get one here http://www.sportsfanfare.com/sf-reepnkgby04.html.
Today is a big day in Packerland...not that I'm into sports at all. I view big game days as an opportunity to eat junk food (loaded chicken nachos and brats, natch, for today's game), drink some beers, and read trashy magazines (Us Weekly and People). My little words of wisdom are that all you need to watch in any game are the last two minutes. Everything always hinges on those fateful two minutes. Why waste the other 178 minutes when you could be doing something remotely productive, oh say, like folding the mountains of laundry piled on the guest bed or clipping the holly bushes that are growing as wild as Mr. Magorium's hair? Hint Hint, Mac Daddy.
While I don't enjoy sports, or even understand any sport other than tennis, I do succumb to Packer fever. I can't leave the Green Bay airport without buying one last Packer souvenir. Everyone could use a logo-emblazoned cheese plate with matching knife, right? And don't get me started on the lunchbox that came replete with a stash of cheesecurds and sausage sticks. I didn't grow up in a town with a football team so I happily embrace the Packers. I've even visited Lambeau Field (the old and the new) on several occasions. I kicked a field goal at the Packer Hall of Fame, and had my photo taken with a lifesize Brett Favre cutout. Crazy as it sounds, Lambeau Field really does have an undescribable mystique. You can feel a special aura around the whole place. Wacky, I know. It really is hallowed ground. Millions of frozen fans can't be wrong. You won't find such fierce camaraderie anywhere. It's true that a fellow Packer fan will stop to help change a flat tire on a stranded car that sports a Packer sticker.
There are no fair weather Packer fans. Being a part of such fan verve, even if I just married into it, is pretty damn fun. Note to Brett Favre, notice how we pronounce "verve" versus "Favre" even though the phonetics are not the same (maddening, I tell you!). Here at Dirt & Noise we are gearing up for today's big game. Bird and Deal are sporting their #4 jerseys and have been chanting "GO PACKERS!" all morning. We don't even remind them to use an inside voice.
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