Like a deep, dark secret, I reluctantly confess that I am still technically a fan of the Dallas Cowboys. I do not know why. What began as a childhood obsession with Roger Staubach and “America’s Team” persisted through the controversial Jerry Jones insurrection, probably because the Jimmy Johnson era came quickly and was enormously fun, but the past quarter century, though… Well, what happened was that disappointing underperformance after disappointing underperformance became so predictable that I just stopped caring. It turns out that if you truly expect something to go poorly, it doesn’t hurt at all when it does. And I haven’t been disappointed in decades.
So along the way, in our many moves around the country, I developed the habit of picking up a secondary team. I detest bandwagon fans, and I think it’s against some rule to consider yourself a major fan of a team while maintaining some sort of allegiance to another, but I have permitted myself to cheer other teams on more quietly in the background. First came the Saints when living on the Gulf Coast, then the Rams/Chargers in our move to L.A. (and even some Seahawks when our youngest went to college in Seattle). Between the pandemic and the brevity of our stays in both Nashville and central Illinois I didn’t have enough time to get into either the Titans or the Bears, although I had started paying attention to both. But now we live in Packers country. My goodness, this is a different world entirely. There is no NFL team like the Packers, and there is no other fan base like the Packers. It is special.
I’m posting from Lambeau Field tonight. In a special, special gift, my wife and daughters gave me two tickets to tonight’s Sunday Night Football matchup between the Dallas Cowboys and the Green Bay Packers. And to make it even more special, our nephew, Nick, just happened to be visiting with his wonderful family this weekend, so I have the privilege of taking him to his first NFL game. (What a setting for your first NFL game!)
I thought about it and decided to wear Packers gear tonight, and I am prepared to sing Bang the Drum as needed, but I will smile when things go the Cowboys way, too, and in the end, I am going to be happy all night tonight regardless of what happens out there on the Frozen Tundra.
My first hero was my dad, who played football in the 1930s in the age of leather helmets with no facemasks, and we tossed the football around in the back yard a lot in those precious years of my life called childhood. I learned the game of football by watching a lot of Cowboys games on television with him, and I suspect that the joy I have discovered here in Packer Country is that it represents old school football, which reminds me of my dad.
So, here we go. I have a football game to watch, special memories to make, and a bunch more to remember. Family and football and all sorts of feelings to feel. What a gift.
