Monday, November 10, 2008

Memoirs of a Bitter Packer Fan

The days of happiness are gone, all that is left is sorrow and anguish. It's Sunday night, the cold Wisconsin air chills me, my nose runs. Is it November? It can't be. Where are the children playing in the streets?

The local drinking hole is empty, just the regulars, rickity Bob and Joe Blue... Looks like they'll be closing early. What happened? Is it really November? My cheese hat doesn't seem to fit any more. I wonder aimlessly through the streets, stuck in between a dreamworld and reality. In my dream world I see Brett Favre, dawning the yellow and green, gunslinging across the frozen tundra. I see hope, I see my hero I see a promise that we will always have a chance for glory...
And then the dream fades. I see flashes of images that make me shudder. Images that make me run to my children's rooms and make sure they are safe. I tuck them in and tell them that better days are ahead. It pains me to lie. I look out the window, the trees are bare, the streets are empty, I see a town I don't recognize, a team I don't know and a quaterback I can't love.

The dream fades back and forth between reality and then it becomes a nightmare. In my nightmare I see cheeseheads crying, Lambeau field in ruins, and Adrian Peterson running and running and running...

How did it come to this? Wasn't it just a year ago that we were a field goal away from the Superbowl? And now, that is nothing more than a fleeting memory.

My mind wanders.

I see my hero. He's wearing a shade of green but I don't recognize the color. He's leading his team to victory, fancy coats, weird accents and arrogant fans cheer him on...Make it stop. I pray for an end to my nightmare, but it continues.

There will be no Thanksgiving this year, no Christmas, no presents, no joy no happiness. We turned our back on No. 4. I'm as guilty as the next man and my heart bleeds.

I flee to the attic. In a box, labelled HERO, neatly folded, a jersey, the word FAVRE deteriorating across the back, no. 4 emblazoned across the front, I hold the jersey like a flag near to my heart, and fight back the urge to cry.

Be strong, I tell myself, this nightmare will end soon.... It pains me to lie.

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