There are a lot of things that mothers and daughters bond over. Shopping. Movies. Gardening. Cooking. Men. While I can't say that Penny and I have never bonded over any of the aforementioned things, I know with complete certainty that nothing brings us closer together then men.
Specifically, men in uniform. More specifically, men in the unmistakable green and gold of a Green Bay Packer jersey.
Sundays, Mondays and during the playoffs... Saturdays include cross state, country, at times continent phone calls and text messages for collective celebrations and disappointments. We yell through the phone, we curse through text messages. When my mother was given Packers tickets for the last game of the 2010 season, she took me. When the Packers beat the Vikings and I was in Denmark, I called her at 5am in the morning because I knew she would be watching. It is a relationship that some would call unconventional, but I wouldn't have it any other way.
It started when I was a very young. I can't remember a time when the Packers weren't on in some room of the house. I remember going over to my grandparents house to watch as a kid, and seeing my mother and her mother bonding the same way. Screaming 'you toad' at Don Majkowski and his crazy mullet, or in grandmother's case the referees. Crying when Reggie White died. I remember my grandmother and mother not having very nice things to say about the likes of Mark Chmura and Antonio Freeman after their escapades came to press. Recognizing that the rest of the league pays homage to a man who coached us for 10 years and brought us two Super Bowl trophies. And then to watch Brett Favre , braces and all bring us back there in 1996. I was 13. There is the Lambeau leap. The Gilbert Burger. The experience of being at the stadium itself. My dad giving up his corporate tickets so that mom and I could go sit in his box seats. Watching the UW-Madison marching band celebrate center field after the Pack beat the Cowboys, which at the the time was a big rivalry. Sterling Sharpe's career ending injury. Mike Holmgren leaving and taking what seemed like our entire coaching staff with him, and subsequently trying to stifle a grin when his street sign was rumored to have disappeared. Sam Con. Brooks. Bennett. Matt Flynn out performing Tom Brady. Non-profit, community owned. The training camp bicycle tradition. And of course watching a hero of any Green Bay fan become a sad, pathetic media train wreck.
Yeah, we have cheered through the good, the bad and the very very ugly because the words fair weather were never used in our house. In fact I think my mother inadvertently used Sunday games as a teaching opportunity. She is a teacher after all. She taught me you can still sound positive when you are yelling nasty things at Cris Collinsworth. That it is okay to be irrationally passionate. That it's possible to lose with grace. That you can't control everything. That you are never to old to celebrate like it is Christmas morning. That there is no such thing as semi-loyal. That it is important to honor your personal history. And that love is a labor that you should take on with your whole heart.
The relationship my mother and I have with the Packers, has made our relationship stronger in a way that many including my sister and father don't really understand. But in spite of that, they are still there right next to us in the living room anytime my mom and I are together for a game. Why? Because there is nothing like watching us watch the Packers.
Oh, and Mom if you read this. I am coming home on Saturday night so we can watch our boys. Go PACK!!!
1 comment:
LOVE.
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