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This Packer Backer from way back recalls Lambeau pilgrimage

posted 01/12/2008
Noticing my Green Bay Packers sweatshirt and ball cap, an islander recently asked me if I was conflicted about the big game today, Saturday, Jan. 12 against the Seattle Seahawks. He must have been oblivious to my attire during my past 15 NFL seasons in the San Juan Islands.

I didn't just Lambeau-Leap onto the Green Bay bandwagon as Brett Favre, the Packers' greatest quarterback, smashed nearly all of the league's QB records. I've been a Packer Backer since Bart Starr -- the Packers last Hall of Fame-level quarterback -- was finishing his career on the Frozen Tundra.

Two seasons ago and more than 30 years after bashing my Bart Starr-helmet against my brother's Gayle Sears head bucket, I made a pilgrimage to Lambeau Field. The trip cemented my Green Bay fanaticism. (A little background: Tickets for Green Bay Packers home games are difficult to find -- season tickets have been sold out since 1960 and the wait list probably stretches into the next millennium. When available from resellers, regular season game tickets are as expensive as most other NFL teams' playoff tickets.)

My oldest sister, Pam, went above the call of elder-sibling duty and accompanied me on the road trip from eastern Iowa to northeast Wisconsin. We were tempted to stop at some of the fine museums along the way -- Experimental Aircraft Association's AirVenture museum in Oskosh, Circus World Museum in Baraboo, the Mustard Museum of Mount Horeb -- but we wanted to visit the Packer Hall of Fame before it closed. Even a giant ball of twine didn't deter us.

Homes along the road flew green flags with the Packers' trademark "G." More than halfway into the five-hour drive we made a pit stop and we saw a clear sign that we were getting deep into Cheeseheadland. Outside the burg's Piggly Wiggly a teen-age girl and her parents were selling grilled bratwurst to raise money for the local high school's girls hockey team. Of course I support prep sports of all sorts, so I forked over a couple of bucks for the tasty sausage and bun.

About an hour from Green Bay the number of vehicles decked out in support of the Packers started growing. It reminded me of traveling to high school state tournaments. Often it seems as if an entire small town's population is rolling down the highway, the windows of their rigs boasting their support in the school's colors. Instead of high school boosters thousands of fans from not only Wisconsin, but neighboring states and farther made a green-and-gold migration. I half-expected to be passed by the Packers team in a yellow school bus.

Lambeau Field looms large in Green Bay, dominating a residential and light-industrial neighborhood in the Village of Ashwaubenon. The bronze statues of the Packers' most venerable coaches -- Curly Lambeau and Vince Lombardi -- welcome visitors to the stadium and the Packers Hall of Fame. I'm glad we skipped the other museums -- the Packers Hall of Fame is well worth the admission price. I was impressed with the quality of the exhibits and interactive displays spanning more 80 years.

Sated with Packer trivia and a bit tuckered after driving across the Badger State, we headed to the hotel. Pam, though she might not look like it, was born in a decade before me. So we skipped the nightlife, reserving our energy for game day. (OK, Pam's only a few years older than me. She's a really great sister who has looked after her younger siblings better than Favre's Super Bowl-winning linemen ever protected him.)

Rejuvenated, we rise early Sunday and I get into my game-day gear. Pam, a good sport for someone married to an old-fart Minnesota Vikings fan, scored some temporary tattoos and we apply them to our faces. Our appearance is bland compared to many of the faithful. I feel like a sparrow among peacocks.

Our tour package included a tailgate party at Brett Favre's Steakhouse, a few blocks from Lambeau. While munching on bratwurst and quaffing some spirit-enhancement, we chatted with rabid fans from California, New Jersey and even Texas. Brett's Steakhouse reflects its owner -- classy but not overdone. I bought a can-holder.

We sample more tailgating outside Lambeau. It reminds me of my college days at the University of Iowa. The atmosphere is more relaxed than what I've experienced at other professional sporting events. Even the guy who is selling bras to raise funds for breast cancer research doesn't seem offensive.

Television announcers always extol Lambeau as the best stadium for watching NFL football. I know I'm biased, but they're right. It has the feel of a collegiate stadium. Even our seats three quarters of the way up a corner afford a commendable view of the field.

Even the weather cooperates. Though it's the second week of October in the North Country, the sun warms the crowd. The sun turns Pam's cheeks rosy, except for the parts covered by a green "G." The area becomes a white "G" on red after she removes the tat later in the day.

The Packers sizzle on the field. After New Orleans kicks a field goal for the first points of the game, Green Bay scores 52 unanswered points in their biggest blow-out in 40 years.

I'm in Packer Heaven. I don't mind the rowdy and a bit bawdy ladies seated behind us. They wear pink ball caps with the Green Bay "G" in support of breast cancer research championed by Favre's wife Deanna. These evidently confused girls are definitely having some fun by the time they start referring to themselves as "The Pink G Spots."

My only disappointment, besides the game concluding too soon, is not being able to savor the bratwurst pizza. In a cruel twist, this Cheesehead has become lactose-intolerant. Cow's revenge on a cheese and ice cream connoisseur.

A contentedness fills me during the long trip back to Iowa. The Green Bay Packers and Lambeau Field lived up to my expectations. A trip there is a must for any avid NFL fan, even a Seahawk follower.

I've always supported local teams. I hope the Seahawks win the Super Bowl … in some season the Packers don't make the playoffs.

So, I'm conflicted about as much as a Holstein in an alfalfa field.

GO PACK GO!!!

Thanks extended to Dick Fin and Kim for the "Best Talking Football Player" Brett Favre figure. (For ages 7 to 97.) Of course Dick and Gino will pay for clotheslining him after the Seahawks advanced to the NFC Divisional Championship.

SAN JUAN ISLANDER © 2008

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