Vikes v. Pack Round 2

Long over due.

"Spend 50% of your time doing things that are fun and spend 50% of your time not doing things that aren’t fun."
- “Cloud Man” also known as Man-of-the-Sky (Ma-hpi-ya-wi-ca-sta); A Dakota Mdewakanton chief.

"People actively remove all the joy and wonder from their lives."
- Kip Anderson, age 8. Inaugural address as newly elected Class President to Mrs. Thompson’s 2nd grade class at Fulton Elementary School. September 19, 1982.

It had been talked about since he signed and the rhetorical question always the same – “imagine Vikes/Pack at Lambeau when Favre returns?!?!” Everyone thought the same thing: “so much fun.” We had never been, it was the game to go to if you were gonna go, it was a week away and we pulled the trigger and never did anything feel so right.

There is an odd time-space continuum you pass threw as you cross the border into Wisconsin. I think it only happens when you’re on your way to Green Bay to see a Vikings Game because I’ve crossed that border before and usually it’s accompanied by the smell of shit followed by a speeding ticket. We talked about Favre, Adrian Peterson, meats and cheeses and occasionally God (again, Adrian Peterson). We asked out loud: “Why would we ever even consider not doing this?”

We’d heard the story “You drive through a modest neighborhood and all of a sudden there is Lambeau.” It was true. It popped up. Sure, there were warning signs, among them a front lawn that featured a tree trunk that had been carved into the shape of the “Lombardi Trophy” and stood protected by its own wrought iron fence. We knew we were close but we were too caught up in the trying to find the next Lombardi Trophy-shaped chotchkie (look! a football-shaped car painted green and gold!) that it really does happen like they say – POP! – Lambeau.

Okay, it’s just a green stadium from the outside but when you stop and look at it you realize for all these years you’ve watch all those famous games, those famous moments, those famous players, the history of the Green Bay Packers. Not to mention, Packers/Vikings games from Lambeau that are etched in your memory. Feels like a lot more losses than wins but the Purple are 16-17-1 at Lambeau but you it had been 3 years since our last win there (under the steely tutelage of Mike Tice.) It’s also the place where I lost any respect for hyper-analyst Joe Buck when Randy “mooned ‘em,.” It’s where in 2000 a ball went off Antonio Freemnan’s shoulder and Cris Dishman gave up (you’re no Jimmy Hitchcock!) as we watched an overtime killer on Monday Night Football. Lambeau where the team you hate the most has played some epic games particularly with a guy who is now YOUR starting quarterback. Exciting to be here.

We pulled into the Best Western Midway in Green Bay – as advertised it was the closest hotel to the field; literally between Brett Favre Steakhouse and Lambeau Field. The “Midway” hotel gets the 6th man award on this trip - I fear that an actual act of God occurred and someone cancelled just as we called to inquire (‘heart attack’ was running at 3:1 odds.) I feel like it was fate. My dad always says: the harder you work, the luckier you are. Might be a little of the both: luck and fate because the Midway just kept on giving all weekend long - how else to explain the fact that on Halloween night before the big game the Midway’s bar featured a Wisconsin-based reggae act; the lead singer looked like he stepped off a Peter Tosh album cover, his band mates were spitting images of your average game show contestant from the 1980’s. The thought that came to mind was it would be humorous to listen to the phone calls to each other about getting together to rehearse – whose house did they go to? Regardless, they rocked it later that night.

There are drunks and there are people who like to get drunk. Green Bay before a Viking game is the best mix of both. Bars were packed on Halloween night, everyone in a good mood, inevitably “that guy” shows up. At “Andruzzi’s” that night it was a Viking fan in a Helga Hat blowing his plastic Viking horn, “Bahooo!!!!! Bahooo!!!!!” to everyone’s chagrin. In New York or Philly he would be an asshole, and probably receive a beating within minutes of his very loud entrance. Here, he is a just another rube who you find passed out in a plastic chair at the Midway’s indoor pool at 2 in the morning.

As game day rolled around, the vibe around town changed from the night before. People were still happy and abiding but it was clear this one meant everything to the green and gold (“it’s our Superbowl”.) Question du jour: would they boo him? Unofficial tallies from lines outside popular breakfast spots (thanks Pancake Place!) early in the day showed a fan base not ready to meet the emotions of the day. “How can you boo the guy?!?! It’s Ted Thompson who you should be booing?” The Packers and their loyal fans spent 16 years reminding America of how much Brett Favre meant to this tiny town and how much he meant to the NFL. He symbolized everything about their rebirth, and now they had to prove they didn’t need him. I can’t think of another athlete who so personifies a town, a team and a sport as Brett Favre. And I can’t imagine what its like to lose that to your biggest rival. I can understand not being able to let go and I can understand booing him out of town like he was Hitler wearing a “Fuck Green Bay” shirt.

As game time approached, it was clear why Wisconsin gets it’s “booze bag” reputation – people were getting gassed. The crowd, however, remained as cordial as you would expect from a town of 100,000. People were still nice even as it started to feel like they were marching themselves to the gallows. Once inside it was just, well, cool. Nothing to the concourse, also no real shelter as it was more open to the elements than you would have thought, can’t imagine how cold that Pack/Giants NFC Championship game must have been in 2007. Passing through the tunnel to find our seats, you couldn’t find a bad view in the house – Lambeau eats chunk-of-shit stadiums like the Metrodome for breakfast. My benchmate to my left was Carol, a season ticket holder in her mid-50’s. I watched her exhale remorsefully as she followed my trio up a few stairs, turn in her aisle, and plop down next to her. She was able to quickly compose herself. I made some small talk to ingratiate myself with her and got her to open up a bit. Carol defined humility. She was, however, passionate about the Packers particularly about Favre. I don’t think the woman has ever raised her voice other than when the cheering “Go Pack Go” but Carol was distraught over Favre leaving and was turned upside down the minute he put on a Vikes jersey. She, for one, was not going to boo him – “What’s the point? He took us to two Superbowls and we won one of them. He got the raw deal in that whole thing the way Ted Thompson treated him. If he wants to play for someone else now he should and he’s got every right . . . just wish it didn’t have to be for the Vikings. That’s what hurts the most, I think.”

Finally, the moment before the moment, Favre out of the tunnel as the Vikes were introduced as a team. He was last and when he hit the turf the fans booed the fuck out of him. Surprised at how loud it was. I think everyone was. Carol was shaking her head, tear in her eye, and said over the crowd noise in my ear: “I didn’t want to come today. I wasn’t going to come because of this.” I shrugged and said: “I can’t imagine how that would feel.” What was I suppose to say? I mean, she was torn up; nobody was dead but might as well have been the way Carol felt. It was a big deal to her, it was a big deal to a lot of people and I think most of them let it out through a form of primal scream therapy and “booed.”

The Vikes went up early. They looked good and Favre was surgeon-like. The Packers came back on a patented Vikings move called “let them back in the game” (the more things change the more they stay the same.) At the end, however, the Vikes and Favre’s 4 touchdown’s and no picks were too much. The man in the purple helmet pulled the lever and the Packer-faithful watched the floor drop out underneath them. Without question they were happy it was over, they all started to leave with 2:30 left on the clock. While they had just come back from being down 24 to 3 I think people decided that was it for the humiliation: “Favre proved his point, I gotta work tomorrow.” We hung around. It was bliss. It had all come together as planned. A fan base was collectively crushed; screw ‘em, feeling bad for Packers fans would be like cheering for Tom Brady – at the end of the day the guy sucks.

Our game day was concluded with the prime rib for all at Brett Favre’s Steakhouse. We had heard about this place, we waited specifically until after the game to go, it was the final landmark on our visit. As expected it’s all-Favre-all-the-time, from game balls to murals to a store where you can buy Favre stuff. Looking at the display cases you forget how many great games the guy played in and how many he won. Add one more: he had just beat the Packer’s twice in a season as a Minnesota Viking. Game ball for the display case?

And to the our host city Green Bay, I say “Congratulations.” You have earned our respect as the greatest football town in America hands down. I hope the Packers bring you joy and the Vikings bring you great pain in all of your years ahead. I’m glad you took such pride in your 16 years with Brett Favre and I’m glad that we can take him for just one year to make everything you once knew to be true now seem so worthless.