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From the Sporting News:
As part of SN's celebration of sports' best, our writers make cases for the best football, basketball, baseball, hockey, NASCAR and college cities.
Before I get down to the business of explaining why Green Bay is the NFL's best sports city, let me clear up a couple of questions I anticipate are coming:
1. Yes, I grew up in the fine state of Wisconsin, and because my parents raised me right, it follows that I'm also a die-hard Packers fan.
2. No, I didn't pick Green Bay by myself; the editors and writers who produce our NFL coverage made the selection. I was asked to write about the NFL's Holy City because of my familiarity with it.
On with the show. Most of my case for Green Bay is based on personal experience. Because to me, a lot of what separates Green Bay from the rest of the (ahem) pack, is the way the city embraces the team. Being a
Packers fan isn't a choice in Green Bay; it's inherited. Heck, the whole state more or less embraces that mentality.
There's a reason scores of fans flock to Green Bay every summer, and it ain't Bay Beach Amusement Park. If you're a Packers fan, going to Green Bay truly is a pilgrimage. It sounds cliched unless you've made the trip yourself. When I was younger, that meant dragging my little brother along in the car on our family's "summer vacation," just so I could stand at the fence, Packers pennant in hand, and watch my gridiron heroes fielding punts.
Years have passed since my last training camp trip, but I distinctly remember there being such an energy to the practices. This is the town's team, and the fans' love for the Pack somehow makes a special teams practice during camp seem like riveting entertainment. Kids with bikes eagerly awaiting the end of practice --- when you're 10, is there a bigger thrill than being able to say a 300-pound NFL linemen took a ride on your Schwinn? Dads talking to other dads as if they're family, arguing about which backup lineman should make the cut or which linebacker is hitting hardest. Scapegoats and underdogs picked on the basis of a single play and forever earning a spot in fans' hearts. (The first time my dad saw erstwhile Packers receiver Billy Schroeder drop a punt, he yelped, "Get that boy on a bus back to Sheboygan;" Schroeder never found his way out of my dad's doghouse.)
That's the stuff football is made of. And Packers fans aren't too cool to think that training camp doesn't matter; whenever the Packers are on the field, they're the only game in town. There's a reason Green Bay sells out its intrasquad scrimmage and has a whopping 74,500-plus people on the waiting list to get season tickets. Other towns have passionate followings, yes, but in Green Bay, the NFL is part of the city's pulse.
I remember when my dad and I finally got to go to our first game at Lambeau a couple years ago, a Monday night matchup against the Vikings. The tickets were a surprise birthday gift for my dad; he was so giddy when he saw them that he was scared to drive because he didn't think he could focus.
If you haven't been there, Lambeau Field is nestled in the middle of a nice, otherwise quiet town, with a scattering of "Go Packers" signs up in the yards. My dad and I were able to park on a little side street and, bundled up with long underwear and hats and scarves, made the walk to the field while enjoying the smell of tailgates and football in the air.
The feeling of history surrounds you at Lambeau. The statue of Lombardi. The chills I got walking through the Hall of Fame, seeing the old jerseys of retired greats and the Super Bowl trophies, hearing the audio from the Ice Bowl. There's a sense of wonderment to being in Green Bay, in a place that has loved its team so much for so long, a city where the people actually have ownership of the team.
I remember exactly where I was the first time I glimpsed Lambeau Field from inside the stadium. I was standing outside a concession stand, looking through one of the openings ... and I got a little teary-eyed. Something hits you, actually being there. When being a Packers fan is in your blood, it's more than just a trip to a game. It's an honor to be there. We packed into the bleachers with our newest friends and family, who ignored the cold and cheered all game despite a rather mediocre performance by the Pack. No battery throws, not even much bad blood directed toward some nearby Vikings fans. Just reveling in a Monday night getting to see the team we love.
I'm not saying you can't find plenty of passion for the NFL in other cities. But there's a wide-eyed magic to being in Green Bay that stays with you, from the time you're a gawky fifth-grader to a website editor eagerly awaiting her dad's next phone call with updates from camp. Go Packers!
Before I get down to the business of explaining why Green Bay is the NFL's best sports city, let me clear up a couple of questions I anticipate are coming:
1. Yes, I grew up in the fine state of Wisconsin, and because my parents raised me right, it follows that I'm also a die-hard Packers fan.
2. No, I didn't pick Green Bay by myself; the editors and writers who produce our NFL coverage made the selection. I was asked to write about the NFL's Holy City because of my familiarity with it.
On with the show. Most of my case for Green Bay is based on personal experience. Because to me, a lot of what separates Green Bay from the rest of the (ahem) pack, is the way the city embraces the team. Being a
Packers fan isn't a choice in Green Bay; it's inherited. Heck, the whole state more or less embraces that mentality.
There's a reason scores of fans flock to Green Bay every summer, and it ain't Bay Beach Amusement Park. If you're a Packers fan, going to Green Bay truly is a pilgrimage. It sounds cliched unless you've made the trip yourself. When I was younger, that meant dragging my little brother along in the car on our family's "summer vacation," just so I could stand at the fence, Packers pennant in hand, and watch my gridiron heroes fielding punts.
Years have passed since my last training camp trip, but I distinctly remember there being such an energy to the practices. This is the town's team, and the fans' love for the Pack somehow makes a special teams practice during camp seem like riveting entertainment. Kids with bikes eagerly awaiting the end of practice --- when you're 10, is there a bigger thrill than being able to say a 300-pound NFL linemen took a ride on your Schwinn? Dads talking to other dads as if they're family, arguing about which backup lineman should make the cut or which linebacker is hitting hardest. Scapegoats and underdogs picked on the basis of a single play and forever earning a spot in fans' hearts. (The first time my dad saw erstwhile Packers receiver Billy Schroeder drop a punt, he yelped, "Get that boy on a bus back to Sheboygan;" Schroeder never found his way out of my dad's doghouse.)
That's the stuff football is made of. And Packers fans aren't too cool to think that training camp doesn't matter; whenever the Packers are on the field, they're the only game in town. There's a reason Green Bay sells out its intrasquad scrimmage and has a whopping 74,500-plus people on the waiting list to get season tickets. Other towns have passionate followings, yes, but in Green Bay, the NFL is part of the city's pulse.
I remember when my dad and I finally got to go to our first game at Lambeau a couple years ago, a Monday night matchup against the Vikings. The tickets were a surprise birthday gift for my dad; he was so giddy when he saw them that he was scared to drive because he didn't think he could focus.
If you haven't been there, Lambeau Field is nestled in the middle of a nice, otherwise quiet town, with a scattering of "Go Packers" signs up in the yards. My dad and I were able to park on a little side street and, bundled up with long underwear and hats and scarves, made the walk to the field while enjoying the smell of tailgates and football in the air.
The feeling of history surrounds you at Lambeau. The statue of Lombardi. The chills I got walking through the Hall of Fame, seeing the old jerseys of retired greats and the Super Bowl trophies, hearing the audio from the Ice Bowl. There's a sense of wonderment to being in Green Bay, in a place that has loved its team so much for so long, a city where the people actually have ownership of the team.
I remember exactly where I was the first time I glimpsed Lambeau Field from inside the stadium. I was standing outside a concession stand, looking through one of the openings ... and I got a little teary-eyed. Something hits you, actually being there. When being a Packers fan is in your blood, it's more than just a trip to a game. It's an honor to be there. We packed into the bleachers with our newest friends and family, who ignored the cold and cheered all game despite a rather mediocre performance by the Pack. No battery throws, not even much bad blood directed toward some nearby Vikings fans. Just reveling in a Monday night getting to see the team we love.
I'm not saying you can't find plenty of passion for the NFL in other cities. But there's a wide-eyed magic to being in Green Bay that stays with you, from the time you're a gawky fifth-grader to a website editor eagerly awaiting her dad's next phone call with updates from camp. Go Packers!
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