Through some miracle, I just watched the Packers Family Night preseason game. In Boston. Yes, I know it’s just cable television and while that is probably the greatest invention of the twentieth century, it is in no way considered a miracle. But seriously? We never get the Packer games out here. Especially not one that includes a 45 minute post-game wrap-up where they talk to people like Bill and Becky from Eau Claire who make the trip to Lambeau every year for Family Night because they like to “grill out in the parking lot” and “have a good time as a family.” And the fireworks? Did Bill like the fireworks? Oh, he sure did, “like the Fourth of July all over again.”
You know when you get nostalgic for one thing, like a vacation you took several years ago or an old relationship that wasn’t even that great, and somehow you wind up feeling nostalgic for literally everything else that ever happened to you? You know what the cure for that is? The Packers. Okay, true admission: I didn’t even really care about the Packers until I got to college. Yes, I may have won the Packers school spirit contest in 3rd grade because I wore green and gold pompoms through the holes in my Packer hat and mismatched green and gold socks, but I mostly just did that because I liked winning. I never even went to a Packer game until I was 18, which was probably just a way to rebel against how much my Dad and my brother loved going. Oh, that’s your thing? Whatever I didn’t want to be invited anyway. I don’t even like football. I usually just got my mom to take me to the mall during the games instead because it was empty and we didn’t have to deal with traffic. That’s 70 year old woman behavior right there.
But once I got to college and realized I missed seeing 2/3 of the population wearing Packer gear on any given day, the games started getting a lot more interesting. And I started getting a lot more invested in the results. And my dad sent me this cheesehead in the mail. Just like that…I was a Packer fan. And you know something? On those lonely Sundays in the dorms, when the last week was hard and the next week looked harder, and I was tired of writing papers and being perky and decided to check the TV listings, seeing that the Packer game was on here literally felt like a miracle.
I honestly feel like the Packers bring out the best in Wisconsin, and by extension, fucking America. Everyone is excited, strangers talk to each other in the grocery store, people wear matching clothes. I know that sounds like some of the basic principles of Communism, but like…we all have funny midwestern accents! It’s fine! Also, Packer fans are some of the nicest people in the world, and they love their team no matter what. Lots of them still wear Favre jerseys. Everyone wants him to play well, regardless of what team he’s on. Are you gonna see people at Cleveland Cavs games wearing Lebron’s Heat jersey next year? Nope, but the dude at Lambeau in the Favre Viking jersey is not going to get a soda dumped on his head. Instead, Bill or Becky or some other kind-hearted Midwesterner will probably start a conversation up with him about his children and what his favorite casserole is.
The Packers are America. They make my heart feel like a warm apple pie and a fresh pair of green and gold tube socks. Cannot wait for September 12th.
G-FORCE
