Strikes are for baseball

TALES FROM THE TAILGATE
As the prospect of no NFL football looms on the fall horizon -- I know, let's not wish away spring and summer -- I've been thinking back to my first year as a season-ticket holder. If the 2011 season -- whatever becomes of it --  were to be my last as a tailgating regular, it would make a perfect bookend to that first year. If the league can't get its act together by September, then my last it may very well be. But before there can be a last season, there had to be a first.

1987. The Pats were defending AFC East Champs and were expected to contend again. I had a good job at the newspaper and a first child on the way. I had two season tickets for the Pats. I was an adult.

The season started well when Raymond Berry named Steve Grogan the starting quarterback over Tony Eason. Ask Pats fans to pick their all-time favorite players and of course the lists would be filled with the names Brady, Bruschi, Harrison, Bledsoe, Brown, and Hannah. One name that should appear on all those lists is Grogan. Steve Grogan is why people who love football love football. Nobody played harder. When the game was over there was only one thing you could be sure of and that's that Grogan had left it all on the field. He wasn't the most talented QB by far. He was just one of the toughest to ever play the game. Tony Eason, let's just say, was not. Although Eason too took many a shot and got up and kept going. The difference is Grogan wouldn't just get back up. He'd get back up and throw the first punch on the next play.

The season got off to a great start as the Pats beat their nemesis Miami in the home opener 28-21. Yes! Season-ticker holder right here! Week 2 saw Grogan hurt and the Pats go to New York and get thumped by the Jets. Uh. Hey. Season-ticker holder. Uh. Over here...

Did I mention that the threat of a players strike had been hanging over the NFL all offseason? I believe my answer to anyone who said "You're buying season tickets? There's going to be a strike, you know." was always "Are you kidding me? The players aren't going to strike. They are making way too much money." The players had set a deadline for a settlement for the start of Week 3 of the season. I wasn't worried.

I was wrong. I can still see the sports front of the Boston Globe displaying a large NFL logo in color with the heavy black words "ON STRIKE" stamped across it. I had season tickets and the players were on strike. I was an adult.

FAN SUPPORT: On the line.

I still have the letter from Pats General Manager (and son of the owner) Patrick Sullivan. It starts "Dear season ticker holder: I regret to inform you that as a result of the NFLPA going on strike last night, we are left with no alternative but to attempt to field a competitive team for the balance of the 1987 season..." Regret that they will try to field a competitive team? Would they prefer to field a non-competitive team? Competitive is what I'm paying for. But how can they do that with no Grogan, no Stanley Morgan, no Steve Nelson? Replacement players. Scabs in pads. That's how. The Patriots like the rest of the teams in the league were prepared to play the real games without the real players.

The total cost for two season tickets in 1987 was $388. Regular season games were 21 bucks each while preseason games were only $13 (Preseason games at about half the price of regular season games... What an interesting concept). I was expecting to see professional football players for my $388. That's not what I got.

The Pats sent out a call for ex-pros, beer league players... basically anyone who could throw or catch a football. And they came. On a cold and rainy October Sunday me and my friend Jim, who also worked at the paper, headed to the stadium to see what kind of players they found. As we drove up to the entrance of the parking lot we could see a line of guys in raincoats carrying signs off to the side. Hey! It's tight end Lin Dawson. And there's Eason. The striking players milled about drinking coffee and looking not so much like pro athletes but a bunch of guys on strike in the rain. They just watched the cars of fans file by.

I didn't have a strong pro-player or pro-league feeling either way. Sports unions are not exactly Miners Local 1430. I'm a union guy, but I just wanted to see football. I was curious to see what kind of football it would be. Not many people shared my curiosity. Only about 14,000 out of the usual 54,000 decided to show up. Part protest, part good sense I guess. But this was my first year with tickets. This was only the second home game. I was going.

Jim and I had our pick of empty seats and settled in around the 40-yard line on the replacement Pats side. On the other side were the replacement Cleveland Browns. We watched the new Pats warm up. Hey! There's a guy named Bleier! Is that Steeler great Rocky Bleier? Did he come out of retirement to play for us? Nope. It's Bob Bleier. "I think that's our new starting quarterback," I said to Jim. Jim said nothing.

The game was not pretty. It shouldn't come as a surprise that guys who hadn't played football in a while and had never played together don't play very well. The replacement Browns were just a little less bad than the replacement Pats and won 20-10. "That was much worse than I expected," I said to Jim. Jim said nothing.

We walked down to where the players were coming off the field to get a better look at our new team. One of the players took off his helmet as he walked towards us. "That guy looks familiar," I said to Jim. Jim said nothing. "Did he used to play for the Colts?" I asked. Jim looked at me and this time said something. "I think that guy worked at the beer stand at the last game."