At first glance, Lambeau Field looked a little sad from where I sat this past Friday night, high up in the south end zone, 70 days after that shocking loss to the 49ers.
Its storied turf seemed old and brown, the inspirational words painted there all faded and gray.
“Well, this is depressing,” I thought.
Then, I remembered Dickon from the Secret Garden (Lucas Olnyk, Appleton North Circa 2007) and his signature song:
When a thing is wick, it has a light around it.
Maybe not a light that you can see.
But hiding down below a spark’s asleep inside it,
Waiting for the right time to be seen.
You clear away the dead parts,
So the tender buds can form,
Loosen up the earth and
Let the roots get warm,
Let the roots get warm.
I realized, of course, that the old field wasn’t sad at all. It was wick. Like the roster of the guys who played on it, it needs a little pruning, a little clearing away of the dead parts so the tender buds can form.
The field is a good metaphor for how we Packer fans are probably all feeling right now, a little unsettled, a little unsure about what’s going to grow on that field. The end came so unexpectedly last season, we had neither the time nor the inclination for a proper good-bye to the home field we thought would boost us off to the Super Bowl.
The turf itself still looked a little shocked when we saw it this weekend.
But, we know, that the field and its team enjoy some of the deepest roots in the game. You can hear voices of past players, coaches and fans rise up in quiet moments; within that turf lie footprints from 65 years of play.
I am looking forward to seeing what Brian Gutekunst can put together in the next month and to seeing that old football field come to life again.
You give a living thing
A little chance to grow,
That’s how you will know
If she is wick, she’ll grow.
So grow to greet the morning,
Leave the ground below.
When a thing is wick
It has a will to grow and grow.
Calling all the rest to come!
Calling all the world to come!
Oh, somewhere there’s single streak of green below,
And all through the darkest nighttime,
It’s waiting for the right time.
When a thing is wick, it will grow!
Go Pack Go!
