For me, I'm just gonna enjoy the ride today. I'll hang on every play, and root like hell for my Packers. It's a football game, it's a Packers game, it's the playoffs, man.
It also could be the last time I enjoy this simple pleasure. Oh, no doctor has told me I won't be around for next season; to my knowledge, there's nothing wrong with me healthwise. But you never know.
I'd watch games with Mom and Dad. Dad died in 2000. I took Mom with me to Arizona shortly after, and we'd watch our beloved Pack every game , every play, wearing our Packers sweaters or jerseys; green for home, white away.
The 2008 season was a down year. As the last game ended, and we were going to the Legion, I grabbed the clicker, shut off the TV, and on the way out said, "I think we'll bounce back next year, Ma", and she agreed.
At the moment it never occurred to me that we had just watched our last game together, that Mom would never see her Packers again.
Mom died suddenly in August of 2009. I regained the keen sense of finality that had softened over time. Everything, everyone, ends. There will come a "last time" . So every time I see and spend time with someone I love, every time I'm somewhere I love to be, or seeing something or doing something I love, as the visit is ending, I take a pause to reflect and appreciate, because it could be the last time.
Which brings me to my hope for today. Specifically, my hope for the men who make up the entity we call the Green Bay Packers.
Forget all the problems, all the criticism, all the frustrations of the past 3 months.
Just play the game.
Be boys again; embrace the game you love. Play fast, play hard , play loose. Play with everything you have, like every play is your last. When you take the field, take in the sights and sounds and smells; reach down and feel the grass. Remember what Marv Levy said to his team before a big game; "Is there anyplace else you'd rather be?"
Leave it all on the field, and let the chips fall where they may.
Play the game.
Just play the game, boys.
It also could be the last time I enjoy this simple pleasure. Oh, no doctor has told me I won't be around for next season; to my knowledge, there's nothing wrong with me healthwise. But you never know.
I'd watch games with Mom and Dad. Dad died in 2000. I took Mom with me to Arizona shortly after, and we'd watch our beloved Pack every game , every play, wearing our Packers sweaters or jerseys; green for home, white away.
The 2008 season was a down year. As the last game ended, and we were going to the Legion, I grabbed the clicker, shut off the TV, and on the way out said, "I think we'll bounce back next year, Ma", and she agreed.
At the moment it never occurred to me that we had just watched our last game together, that Mom would never see her Packers again.
Mom died suddenly in August of 2009. I regained the keen sense of finality that had softened over time. Everything, everyone, ends. There will come a "last time" . So every time I see and spend time with someone I love, every time I'm somewhere I love to be, or seeing something or doing something I love, as the visit is ending, I take a pause to reflect and appreciate, because it could be the last time.
Which brings me to my hope for today. Specifically, my hope for the men who make up the entity we call the Green Bay Packers.
Forget all the problems, all the criticism, all the frustrations of the past 3 months.
Just play the game.
Be boys again; embrace the game you love. Play fast, play hard , play loose. Play with everything you have, like every play is your last. When you take the field, take in the sights and sounds and smells; reach down and feel the grass. Remember what Marv Levy said to his team before a big game; "Is there anyplace else you'd rather be?"
Leave it all on the field, and let the chips fall where they may.
Play the game.
Just play the game, boys.
