Today was another Packer game day. The church was having a financial meeting/lunch but it could only happen if the Packer game was shown on the big screen in the church. This happens all the time in Wisconsin.
When our ecumenical choir committee met to select dates for rehearsals and the concert, we had to have the Packer schedule in front of us. If pastors know a game is at noon, they make their sermons short. Here in Wisconsin, religion is not as important as football.
For someone like me, who thinks it's just a game, the whole thing is a mystery, but I like the fans for their sheer insanity. The clothes they wear reflect who they are. All sweatshirts are green and gold. Any extra cash must be spent on some kind of Packer gear.
Packer fans are certain that visitors from another country should immediately be shown the Packer Hall of Fame. They don't comprehend that football is an American and (to a lesser extent) a Canadian phenomenon. A New Zealander would not mind seeing a rugby game. A Brit would enjoy a cricket match. Japanese and South Americans love baseball. Instead, visitors to Wisconsin are dragged over to Green Bay to admire the history of a game they don't understand.
My mother was one of the crazy fans. When I was still a teenager, she noticed that when I watched a game, the Packers lost. She asked me to go off and do something else, which I thought an excellent idea. Years later, she was still calling me wherever I lived to ask if I was watching the game. The Packers were losing. It must be my fault.
I told Gary about that when he caught Packer fever. In his eyes, I became the jinx my mother believed I was. Today, I walked through the living room and just then the opposing team (no idea who they were) scored a touchdown.
Leave, Gary said. I went for a walk. When I came back it was half time. Nothing for it, I went swimming and took another walk after that.
It worked. The Packers won.
No comments:
Post a Comment