Becoming A Cheesehead

Article 002.

Preamble

I have been slacking on finishing this article for a while. But Sunday 09/24, the Packers made a comeback win from 0-17 to 18-17 against the Saints at Lambeau Field led by Jordan Love. So I made a last minute push to get this touchdown and finally let everyone know how my loyalty to French Explorer Jean Nicolet’s naming of La Baye Verte and Acme Packing’s legendary football team all started.

 

It was November, post-9-11 and several months into my second son being born. I was young, disgruntled and just made an idiotic career decision by quitting a job a few months earlier without sealing a new one. The rain was pouring hard that Monday afternoon. You can hear the pounding of water aggressively against the building walls. But you would have no clue that the weather would’ve been that bad by how sunny it was earlier in the day. That’s tropical Philippines for you. I had a job interview at 3 and as I was walking towards the exit, I can tell that the office production level dipped significantly by the minimal noise from keyboards I heard on my way in and more whispers between cubicles on my way out. Their Sales Director, who did the interview, mischievously strode her way out of the premises thinking nobody in their office had noticed. I only needed a quick glance outside the window to know that the commute going home would be hellish. So the way I see it, this was an invitation to the nearest watering hole to kill a few hours. Besides, the interview went very well. I knew I nailed it so I had to celebrate (I didn’t get the job).

It was at a sports bar in Pasig where the flash flood led me. Typically not my first choice since I’m more music-inclined and would prefer a bar where they play some George Duke or at a minimum Carly Simon. I was drenched coming in and went straight to the bar to minimize the wet tracks I’m about to leave the laminate floor. The place was barely inhabited, not surprisingly. Except for an old couple in the corner and a small group of yuppies dead center, it’s all me. Waved to the bartender and ordered a San Mig Light.

Three humongous flat-screens in front of me. There was a foreign horserace in the middle, European soccer on the right and a rather unique American game showing on the left. No basketball games airing which sucks because that’s the only sport I was interested in. So now I have to mingle, but to who? I had the entire bar to myself. Text messages I sent out solicited nothing, either because cell service is “poor-er” when it rains (don’t ask) or nobody was in the mood to chit-chat while stuck in parking lot traffic. The bartender was near the register doing inventory so my choices for entertainment were limited to three widescreen TVs.

I don’t understand much about these galloping thoroughbreds but it’s a race, what else is there to know? And I get the concept of football (or soccer as the minority of the world calls it) but the game has always been a little tedious in progression for me. Now here’s another sport Americans call football but totally far from soccer, that I found really polarizing. I see two giant goal posts at each end of the field reminiscent of the San Antonio Spurs logo sans the spikes. The ball was egg-shaped which would pass as an enlarged Easter Chocolate Candy and I can only wonder why all these buffed dudes where playing this sport instead of dethroning Stone Cold Steve Austin for the WWE Heavyweight Championship. I was shrugging… “What a waste!” But little did I know how this sport would turn out to be a big influence in my life.

Well, this is what I got. A seemingly inflated number of heavily-padded, helmet-wearing, steroid-injected men, where one team’s objective is to annihilate the guy with the dangling towel tucked in his spandex leggings and the other team trying to protect him. I stayed with it, trying to figure out how the point system works. Understanding the mechanics of the game and the penalties was like high school Physics all over again, or at least how it seemed at that time. But it was only when I stopped analyzing the game and just appreciated the harmony between the passer and the receiver, the aggression of the ball runner, and the overpowering between the offensive and defensive linemen that I was able to understand the game better.

A few beers into the fray, I was really tunneled into it. I was hopelessly gravitated more to the Green and Gold versus the White and Blue. And for a first-time spectator, that unusually big G on the helmet was pretty hard to miss. They flashed this guy’s name on the screen with the initials QB in front. He had an unusual last name, and I assumed was Team Captain since he has the big C on his jersey. Too bad there was no audio for the game (I mean the bar was playing N’Sync), otherwise I would’ve known then how to pronounce his last name. But it wasn’t his name that got me watching. Nor the plethora of accomplishments this guy is known for. It was his energy on the field. He was playing with too much gusto. Highlights of his career was shown and this guy was a legend – BRETT FAVRE. And then further into the game, a great history of the team was presented. How can a team be owned by the city? I don’t know of any team like that, amazing!!! It really got me into it. I was so into it that I forgot that there was a typhoon outside and was completely unmindful of how I plan to get home that evening. Plus the fact that it came unnoticed that the bar was already half full.

The Green Bay Packers up against the Detroit Lions. And thanks to NBA geography, I knew Detroit was a city in Michigan. But Green Bay?? Hmm. I have no clue where this city is. Honestly, it was the first time I ever heard of such place. Must be up in the boonies, who knows. What I do know was that I am heading out to migrate to the US the next year. I wasn’t particularly looking forward to the life changing-event and this newly-found interest to American football wasn’t really about to give me a change of heart. To be honest, the NBA is still numero uno in my list. I’m happy that the Lakers gets more prime time games aired on TV back in the Philippines, so my appetite for sports entertainment is very satisfied. Watching football, more TV in general, wasn’t really in my immediate agenda so I knew my interest will falter in an instant.

Almost a year living into my so-called American dream, already knowing that Green Bay is far north of Milwaukee, and Los Angeles had no resident NFL team, I lost all interest in football. I was kinda into baseball at that time since I was based in North OC and was drifted to the then-Anaheim Angels who was making a run for the World Series—with Tim Salmon and Vlad Guerrero at helm. It was not until Thanksgiving Day when I was constrained into watching football games the entire day. It is then when I rekindled my interest for the sport and started watching them in regularity. That Sunday, there he was, the gunslinger from Green Bay, Brett, back on national TV, I think against the Bucs, but it was an awful, awful loss. I still wonder how his last name is not spelled the way it’s pronounced (FARVE vs FAVRE) but I found out it was a national enigma. Who cares really? He was a Hall-of-Famer doing great and so were the Packers that season. After that, there was no going back. It was the culmination of my undying devotion to the Green and Gold. A self-anointed Cheesehead that no Lion, no Viking, certainly no Bear can ever persuade into changing allegiance. It took me a storm, a change in residence and a holiday to get there, but I’m glad I made the leap, a Lambeau f’n leap!!! GO PACK GO!!!

This visit to Lambeau Field with my boys in 2021... priceless!!!