“…I firmly believe that any man’s finest hours – his greatest fulfillment of all that he holds dear – is that moment when he has worked his heart out in good cause and lies exhausted on the field of battle – victorious.” – Vince Lombardi
A visit to Lambeau Field probably is (and should be) on every sports fan’s bucket list. It was mine, but I am glad to report that it now has a checkmark next to it. No, I did not wear a cheese head. And no, I did not freeze my tundra off, thanks to unseasonable temps in the low 40s. But if I had, it still would have been worth every shiver.
Packer Nation is simply built different. When you insist on an outdoor stadium in Wisconsin for a sport that culminates in the winter, you’re telling the world that you are built different.
Vince Lombardi remains the spirit animal of the Green Bay Packers. The story goes that Vince Lombardi snuggled up to his wife in bed one chilly night and she exclaimed, “God, your feet are cold!” The legendary Green Bay Packer coach replied, “Honey, when we’re alone, you can call me Vince.” It’s a pretty terrible joke, but it does communicate Lombardi’s status in this neck of the woods.
Lombardi famously said, “Winning isn’t everything, it’s the only thing.” And, “Show me a good loser, and I’ll show you a loser.” But his expansive repertoire of famous quotes incorporates more positive themes and emphasizes words like commitment, discipline, drive, effort, hard work, passion, sacrifice, and toughness. You sense those values simply by joining the Packer fans in the stands, i.e., we can endure anything, even the bone-chilling cold.
My first Lambeau Field experience was even better because my oldest daughter, Erica, flew in for Thanksgiving and came along for the ride. I started an annual daddy-daughter birthday trip tradition with her when she was fourteen, and after many years of beautiful adventures, the tradition faded due to our miles apart, but wow this was a great way to bring it back.
When the crowd gathered around us on the metal bleachers, a group of older men sat directly next to me. My new neighbor discovered that it was my first time and promised a great experience. When I asked if he had season tickets, he said: “No, my buddies brought me here to celebrate my fiftieth birthday.”
Sheesh. I thought he was an old man. I responded, “I think I can still remember my fiftieth birthday.”
Later in the game, an increasingly inebriated young man sitting directly behind me described in great detail to a grandmother sitting beside him the formation of his friend group. He shared that many became friends during COVID when he decided to go around his neighborhood and meet everyone under age fifty. The grandmother responded, “What’s wrong with people over fifty?” I turned around for a high five.
Becoming one of the old people snuck up on me. In all candor, it sort of has the tendency to make you want to give up a little bit. But just as the depression starts to creep in, I hear Coach Lombardi screaming at me from the sidelines that “[w]inners never quit and quitters never win.”
So, I guess, here I am, still kicking, convinced that Coach was on to something when he said that my finest hour, the greatest fulfillment of everything that means the most to me, won’t arrive until I am spent on the battlefield, victorious, having given my entire heart for a good cause.
With thanks for a trip to Lambeau Field and to the ghost of Vince Lombardi, pardon me, but I have work to do.
Starting to Look Up 