Is it cold out here or is it just me?

TALES FROM THE TAILGATE
Pats 17, Titans 14 (1/10/'04): What better place to start recalling some of the "tales from the tailgate" than with the coldest game in Patriots history. The record shows that it was four degrees above zero at game time. I guess that is the temperature at which vodka freezes. And the temperature where the brain goes numb. Well maybe that has as much to do with the vodka as the temperature.

The main characters in these tales were all present for one of the great playoff games not just in Pats history but NFL history. Shep (the key to us moving from Section 311 in the old stadium to Section 109 in the new stadium... a story for another day), Mark (a drunken discussion one night led to him standing in a snowstorm for hours to buy four season tickets), Bergs (the guy who makes sure there's no meat left uneaten), Billy (there's one in every group), Matt (Shep's son who was new to the group at that point but would later become so dedicated to the tailgates that he would make the drive to and from New York for the games), and Toph (Mark's brother and master Dead-mix maker) brought as many things to keep us warm as we could think of.

We had season tickets since 1994 and during that time we had enjoyed an incredible... almost ridiculous... run of great weather for football games in New England. And I'm not just talking about the 70 degree early season September games. There were late December games in T-shirts and shorts (give him a day above 40 degrees and Bergs will wear shorts). There were many times as we sat there in the parking lot of the old Schaefer/Sullivan/Foxboro Stadium enjoying the meal and drinks of the day where one of us would be heard to say "One of these days I hope we get one of those really really really cold days. How fun would that be."

As we unloaded our gear that day I thought of those words. Actually, it was so cold I could almost see my thoughts as one can see your breath. "... one of those really really really cold days." Uh huh.

My personal plan was to bring as many layers as I thought I could fit into and slowly add them as the temperature around and inside my body dropped. A normal number of layers for a cold day is three maybe four. That day I had 10. Thirty minutes into the four-hour pregame tailgate and I was on layer number six. Coincidentally the same number of vodka and cranberry juices that Bergs was on. We all have our own way of keeping warm. Everywhere you looked around the stadium lot you could see barrels and fire pits blazing away with men and women bundled in what looked like very flammable clothing standing just inches away from the flames. At one point a barrel positioned too close to a porta-john tipped over and the john caught on fire with the flames rising higher and higher. The fire engine on standby at the lot had to fight its way through the growing crowd gathered around the john for warmth. When the fire was extinguished there was an audible groan. Just the sight of the fire had made everyone in the lot forget how cold we were.

We cooked up our usual assortment of steaks, sausages, stews, and burgers with each of us trying to eat the food as quickly as we could before all the heat had been drained from the meat which was usually in less than a minute. A good two hours into the tailgate I stood next to Bergs and Mark talking excitedly about the game but they looked at me as if I was Kenny from "South Park." My "I think we can get some pressure on McNair and force him to make mistakes" turned into "I thmmm sommm prmmmm formmmm mmmak mmmtakes." Bergs, using a spoon to break up the ice chunks of vodka in his drink, said "I think your face is frozen. I have no idea what you just said." So I spent the next 15 minutes in the car getting the feeling back in my face and upon stepping back outside added layers seven and eight.

As game time drew near we packed everything up, dumped the hot charcoals in a pile on the pavement, inserted the hand and feet warmers into our gloves and boots, and poured ourselves a drink to sober us up before we go in (Dunkin's coffee and Grand Marnier with a little whipped cream blended in). As we stood around waiting for everyone to get their layers in place Billy said happily "These feet warmers are really great. My feet are already getting really toasty!" We all looked at him and laughed. And then Mark said very matter of factly, "Billy, you're standing in the pile of red hot coals. Your boots are on fire."