Today my beloved Packers lost, under the worst , most painful circumstances imaginable in the regular season, against the hated Vikings, with Judas Brettedict Favreold under their center, at Lambeau Field. Sitting at 7-1, our enemy now has a three game advantage, with tie-breakers. This all but ensures that the Vikings will win the NFC North. If the Packers are lucky, they will sneak into the playoffs as a wild-card. Many teams have had great success as a wild-card, but it cannot be what we aspire to.
And yet as I, and other true Packers swallow this most bitter pill, left to wallow, even drown in oceans of sorrow at our team’s defeat, there is pride to be had. Pride that we brandish our colors—our team’s mark, the Packer G—not only in victory, but also in the face of defeat.
Today I was exposed to a fair-weather fan who dared to present himself as a fellow Packer fan just two years before. Like last week before, he was cheering not for Rodgers and the Pack, but the traitor, all while daring to wear a Packer #4 Jersey in my presence. He even oscillated between that and a faux Vikings #top. It was not a jersey, more like a polo shirt, but it had his name and number on it. Perhaps he was too cheap to buy a Vikings jersey proper.
When my beloved Packer team was pushed back to the very precipice, down some three touchdowns, and after I suffered one too many taunts, I came up to him and his cohort, a native wisconsite who also claimed to be a Packer fan, and yet was curiously wearing a Vikings jersey. I told him, you remember me two or three years from now, when your boy has long since retired for good, and Rodgers and the Pack resurge with a replenished line. You remember this, holding up green and gold packer tobagan hat, that I am a real Packer fan, who does not ever tread his colors, who stands by his team, not only in victory, but in defeat. Then after asking him, face to face, whether he impales himself at night while fawning over his boy, his masturbatory fantasy, I went back to my table to watch the game, and the entire bar applauded me, as they were speechless.
My team—our team, our Green Bay Packers—fought back heroically, and stayed in the game to the last. In defeat, I stood by team. I never relinquished these colors. And I never will.
I love the Green Bay Packers more than anything. I love that beautiful shade of green. I love the illustrious G symbol those bright yellow helmets bear so proudly. I love the fact that there should not even be an NFL team anywhere near Green Bay, except for the history of that ancient, primordial team. The Green Bay Packers are one of the last few good, pure things about this country.
I feel tremendous loss at my team’s loss. I cry as I write this. I am unable to describe the betrayal, not only of he who shall remain nameless, but most especially the fair-weather fans, the imposters among us who at one time DARED to condescend to call themselves Packer fans. And yet I love that team, which will always be larger than any one player. And I am so incredibly proud that, when my team—our team—stood, fought and lost in the most painful, arduous way possible, I stood by my colors, our colors, and never relinquished them, or my love for that team. GREEN AND GOLD FOR NOW, AND FOREVER MORE, IN VICTORY—CERTAINLY VICTORY IN THE FUTURE—BUT ALSO DEFEAT.
And yet as I, and other true Packers swallow this most bitter pill, left to wallow, even drown in oceans of sorrow at our team’s defeat, there is pride to be had. Pride that we brandish our colors—our team’s mark, the Packer G—not only in victory, but also in the face of defeat.
Today I was exposed to a fair-weather fan who dared to present himself as a fellow Packer fan just two years before. Like last week before, he was cheering not for Rodgers and the Pack, but the traitor, all while daring to wear a Packer #4 Jersey in my presence. He even oscillated between that and a faux Vikings #top. It was not a jersey, more like a polo shirt, but it had his name and number on it. Perhaps he was too cheap to buy a Vikings jersey proper.
When my beloved Packer team was pushed back to the very precipice, down some three touchdowns, and after I suffered one too many taunts, I came up to him and his cohort, a native wisconsite who also claimed to be a Packer fan, and yet was curiously wearing a Vikings jersey. I told him, you remember me two or three years from now, when your boy has long since retired for good, and Rodgers and the Pack resurge with a replenished line. You remember this, holding up green and gold packer tobagan hat, that I am a real Packer fan, who does not ever tread his colors, who stands by his team, not only in victory, but in defeat. Then after asking him, face to face, whether he impales himself at night while fawning over his boy, his masturbatory fantasy, I went back to my table to watch the game, and the entire bar applauded me, as they were speechless.
My team—our team, our Green Bay Packers—fought back heroically, and stayed in the game to the last. In defeat, I stood by team. I never relinquished these colors. And I never will.
I love the Green Bay Packers more than anything. I love that beautiful shade of green. I love the illustrious G symbol those bright yellow helmets bear so proudly. I love the fact that there should not even be an NFL team anywhere near Green Bay, except for the history of that ancient, primordial team. The Green Bay Packers are one of the last few good, pure things about this country.
I feel tremendous loss at my team’s loss. I cry as I write this. I am unable to describe the betrayal, not only of he who shall remain nameless, but most especially the fair-weather fans, the imposters among us who at one time DARED to condescend to call themselves Packer fans. And yet I love that team, which will always be larger than any one player. And I am so incredibly proud that, when my team—our team—stood, fought and lost in the most painful, arduous way possible, I stood by my colors, our colors, and never relinquished them, or my love for that team. GREEN AND GOLD FOR NOW, AND FOREVER MORE, IN VICTORY—CERTAINLY VICTORY IN THE FUTURE—BUT ALSO DEFEAT.
