fangirling

For my husband's 40th birthday, the whole family got together and made a dream of his come true - he was going to go see the Green Bay Packers play at Lambeau Field.  He was a kind husband and decided to bring me along to live the dream with him.  What a nice guy.

It was a great experience: the tailgating, the camaraderie, the look on my husband's face when he saw the stadium.  I couldn't stop smiling because I could see just how happy he was.  We entered the stadium and found our seats and were amazed at how close everything was.  When you see a game on TV, it looks like everything is so huge and so far away, but that's not the case at all.  Again - he was in total awe.

The teams warmed up on the field and exited so they could begin the introductions of the players.  It was pretty dang cool.  The bulk of the team ran out at once, and then they started introducing the more well-known members one by one.  It was then that I got kind of bummed because my dear Clay Matthews was out with an injury and may or may not be there to watch from the sidelines.  I hadn't seen him during warm-ups and there was no sign of him yet, so I kind of doubted I'd luck out.  *sigh*

The team takes the field.

But then, somewhere in-between Josh Sitton and not long before Aaron Rodgers, I noticed there was one person walking out onto the field who caught my eye.  He stepped out alone, unnoticed, wearing a blue warm-up suit, hood up over his head, and walked to the sideline.  There was something familiar about him, the broad shoulders, the walk, I knew who it was right away.  It was Clay.

I violently shook nudged my hubby and said, "It's Clay!  I found him!  Look. That guy there - walking onto the field!" and pointed right at him, but he had no clue who I was talking about and looked at me like I was slightly mental.  Frustrated, I completely ignored the odd looks he was giving me and went back to watching the man who I knew was the injured Mr. Matthews.  He walked over to Kevin Greene who just happens to be Clay's coach, who gave him a hearty slap on the shoulder.  Oh yes, this was him.

I had very few doubts about it, but because the rain was falling and it was in the lower 40's, I probably wouldn't have any definitive proof because he would keep that hood up all afternoon and there would be no blond hair to be seen.  But there was one little thing I forgot...The National Anthem.  Everyone please stand and remove your hats for the singing of our National Anthem.  No hats = no hoods.

It's him!  It's him! Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!

Somehow my brain became that of a teenage girl and I could see myself jumping up and down, wanting to leave my husband in the stands, run down onto the sideline which was conveniently right in front of me and make a complete fool out of myself asking for an orgasm autograph or something (because in my alternate reality, I wouldn't be arrested as soon as I stepped foot on the field).  Of course, a more mature, sane head prevailed and I kept it all inside.

Of course, that's not to say that I didn't glance down at the sidelines from time to time to see where he was and what he was doing.  He spent a lot of time looking right at me at the huge scoreboard over our heads, so even though the hood was back up, it was easy to find him...over and over again.

What?  I'm not obsessed.

I think if we were able to get to more games I'd get past the fangirling, right?  Possibly?  Maybe?  I guess we'll never know since the tickets are extremely expensive and the venue is almost 3 hours away.  Unless someone out there is willing to send me to "therapy".  Season tickets and limo service, anyone?  I'll try to get better...really!