My sister and I generally have to hold our own at Lambeau Field because we sit directly behind the visitor’s bench.
So many fellow season ticket holders in our section sell their tickets to opposing fans that we often find ourselves surrounded by Lambeau Field first-timers dressed in strange colors and looking for trouble. (Not really. Most of them are very nice and very excited to be seeing a game at Lambeau). Sometimes, though, the gang gets unruly.
We have some experience in conducting ourselves in those situations.
- We give no ground. I mean this philosophically and physically. We bring our own stadium seats and plop them down directly on our assigned seat numbers, regardless of whose butt might already be planted there. “Oh, excuse me. This is seat seven.” I say and when the offending rump scootches over slightly, I shove my seat in. I don’t usually make eye contact as I do this but I know if I can secure my seat cushion before kickoff, I will own those 17 inches of bench space for the rest of the game. Believe me, it’s the key maneuver. I am convinced we had an extra Philly fan in our row Thursday night but I rammed my stadium seat in anyway, all the while making pleasant conversation with the people around me. This scored me my space, until a wide-derriered newbie Packer fan sat on me. I pretended not to notice and we spent a series glued together in a reverse Santa-at-the-mall situation until he moved to an open spot a row over.
- We occasionally chime in and, wisely, dial back. It’s a verbal dance I generally enjoy. In these scenarios, my sister often assumes a Debbie-Allen-In-Fame type character and keeps me in line. Thursdays conversation went like this:
Loud Philly fan: That was a B—Sh– call.
Me (to me sister): It was a late hit.
Loud Philly fan: B.S.
Me (to my sister): You could hear the whistle from here.
Philly fan turns around and looks at me: Even you should know that was a B.S. call.
Me (to my sister): Did he just say “even you”?
My sister: Don’t engage Laura
Me (to my sister): Is he saying “even you” because he thinks he knows more about football because I’m a female?
My sister: He’s drunk, Laura. He won’t even remember what he said if you call him on it.
I stewed.
I squirmed.
I cleared my throat.
My sister: Don’t do it Laura.
Me (to my sister): Okay, listen. I’m going to assume he said “even you” because I am a Packer fan and I’m going to let it go this time.
My sister: Thank you
Me: But it clearly was a late hit and that guy is wrong.
Later, I saw the viral video of the Packer and Eagles fan rolling around row four trading somewhat embarrassing punches in a pretty undignified way.
We sit in row four.
I called my sister and thanked her.
Go Pack Go!
