Patriots vs. Jets

America has a lot of sports to offer. There is baseball, basketball, soccer, competitive eating, fishing, golf, boxing, wrestling, lumberjack olympics, roller derby, candlepin bowling etc.. But the one sport I tend to watch the most is football. Probably out of habit and nothing else. It all started in 1981. My family had just moved to Northern California. In those days, the 49ers were a dominant force. We had a clutch QB, Joe Montana, his go-to guy, Dwight Clark, and an unknown rookie, Ronnie Lott. The whole city was excited about the sport and it was hard to go to the grocery store without hearing how the game on Sunday went. Highways, would be empty on game days, a phenomena Northern California may never again witness.

Well, in 2005 it is slightly depressing being a 49er fan. Being in last place in the NFC west is is a long way from tewnty years ago. With Eddie deBartolo gone, and his sister runnning the show we've wtinessed, management pay ridiculous amounts of money for a rookie QB that does not play. A coach, whose dad was good, whose staff is a mess, which is often reflected on the rag tag team that cannot seem to pull it together. But all of this is not part of the story and I have digressed way too far from the point.

Currently, I live in New England, that is experiencing its own heyday of football. So while I lament my red and gold, I am surrounded by the cheers of the Pats. This Sunday, I watched the New England Patriots battle the New York Jets live at Gillette stadium. I had no idea what I was getting into.

My friend Ti, her boyfriend C, his friends M and To, and myself crammed ourselves into a silver Subaru outback, filled to the brim with tailgating essentials. While chief meteorologist Todd Gross, promised only a slight dusting of snow it, already an inch had fallen by noon. As we drove to Foxborough, it showed little sign of letting up.

We set up camp in a parking lot next to To's friends. They had set up a satelite dish on a tripod along with a television to watch all the football games while they set up their grills for the tailgaiting party of all tailgaiting parties. Picture the whitest, loudest, drunkest, large men and you come nowhere close to what I was amidst.

It kept snowing, as our car grilled up the burgers, chicken, sausages, steaktips. Everyone had brought their own six-twelve pack so the beer ran freely. Ti and I huddled around the grill in hopes to feel our hands and feet again, but that would not happen until 8 hours later, when I was happily in my home. Conversations involved calling various ball players various vulgarities. At some point, M turned on his car stereo, to blast his Patriots pre-game mix. A small sampling included, "Mr. Brownstone," "Runnin' with the Devil," "Thunder," etc..

Other interesting pre-game events included men urinating on a fence nearby, a trashfire, and two people who grilled in their SUV. Before kick-off, we packed up and trekked to the stadium with beers in our hand. (Apparently, open container laws do not apply around the stadium) Yes, I was in some kind of white trash hell.

At the game, we had some fantastic seats on the 40 yardline. Although we were quite high-up, we had a fantastic view of the field. From up above, you could appreciate the strategy and thought that went into the game plan. It was facinating, despite the lackluster performances on both sides.

The one unfortunate thing, was the crowd in parking lot was actually indicative of crown in the stadium. A man one row below me kept yelling about how he hated those virgins who never slept with him. A girl threw up in the aisle. And as I was standing in line, mind you wearing seven layers of
clothing, a man crashed into me attempting to cop a feel.

While I had a fun time, I think that Sundays will be reserved for watching football intermittently through loads of laundry, granding papers, and cooking all in the comfort of my own home.