TALES FROM THE TAILGATE
Patriots 12, Dolphins 0 (12/7/'03): As the Pats get ready to close out the regular season today against Miami in a snow-covered Gillette, I thought back to another snowy December game between the two teams nine years ago. It's one of my all-time favorite tales from the tailgate.
The game took less than three hours to play. It took me almost two hours longer than that to get to the stadium. It was worth it. If you look at the score you'd see a 12-0 win over a lousy Miami team. Just another regular season game, you might think, on the way to a Super Bowl title. Oh how wrong you would be.
This one's called the "Snowball Game" for the impromptu -- and kind of magical -- method of celebration that the Pats fans created with the snow piled up in the stands. Did I mention the snow? Twenty-eight inches fell on southeastern Mass. overnight and into that Sunday morning. Although at times it seemed more like 28 feet. I started shoveling at 5 a.m. in order to meet Mark and Bergs in the lot by 9. I was a little late. As the shovel broke through the snowbank of my driveway into the street I looked at my Doberman-Shepherd and thought "If I only had 11 more of her to pull me on a sled to the game." It would have been faster.
I loaded up the car for the wintry tailgate I was anticipating and headed down the street. It was just before 8 a.m. as I called Mark to let him know I was on my way. "Bergs and I are stuck in traffic on Route 1 but we are almost there," he said. "I may be a little late," I said. "But I should be there soon." I only lived 20 minutes away. A quick stop at Dunkins' (28 inches of snow doesn't stop the mail or the DD coffee) and I started my journey to Gillette.
There are many routes one can take to the stadium if you live in the next town. Of course all of them lead to the route to end all routes ... Route 1. I decided I would use the main roads and highways, figuring they would be plowed better than the back roads. So it was Rte. 140 to 95N to Rte. 1S. I knew I was in trouble as soon as I hit Rte. 140. Seems the main roads weren't really plowed either. The backup to get onto 140 was about a mile from the lights. I sat patiently in my car listening to the pre-game show and drinking my coffee. What would have taken about eight minutes on a clear day took my close to half an hour. But I crawled my way along the ramp to 95 hoping that my pace would quicken once I hit a real highway.
It didn't. The road was lined with cars that had skidded off the side. Some accompanied by tow trucks. Some clearly left there by their owners hours before. The three-lane highway was down to one barely passable path down the middle. I slid my way into the traffic and resumed my crawl. "Route 1 getting to the stadium is not moving," one of the Pats announcers said. "I'm glad I got here hours ago." No sooner had he said that when Mark called. "Route 1 is not moving," he told me. "Bergs and I have barely moved since we talked to you." It was now after 9 a.m. We decided to abandon our plan to meet in the P2 lot and agreed to just grab any spot we can when we got there and then find each other. "See you soon," I said.
The single lane on 95 moved at speeds varying between two and five miles an hour. Mostly two. "I should have bought another coffee," I thought to myself as I made my way along the ramp to Route 1 as the clock neared 10 in the morning. An hour on Rte 95 to go just about 2 miles. I got to the turnaround on Route 1 and merged into the traffic heading south to the stadium. The cars were barely moving. The clock -- on the other hand -- seemed to be moving faster. 30 minutes later I had made my way to the three-miles-from-the-stadium sign. Three miles to go. Almost there! The radio guy chimed in again. "If you are not at the stadium yet," he advised. "You aren't getting here. State Police are urging people who haven't left yet to stay home. And my advice to those who are on the road right now is turn around and go home."
Turn around and go home? It's just after 11 and I'm three miles away. The game doesn't start for two hours. Hell, I can still cram down a burger and a few drinks if I get there in 90 minutes. Turn around and go home? I've been on the road for three hours. It's going to take me that long just to get home. Turn around and go home? Screw that. I turned off the announcers and put on some music. Around 11:30 Mark called. "We're in!" he announced. "How close are you?" I told him I was about two miles away and that traffic was beginning to move a little. "Two miles?" he said. "OK, well we'll start cooking and have something ready when you get here."
As the clock moved past noon the aggravation level began to rise. I know there's a lot of snow but why is it taking this long? The roads are bad but they aren't that bad. I soon had my answer. I made my way through the booth to pay my parking toll and all I could see were giant mountains of snow. There had to be parking spots somewhere out there. But where? And where are the guys in orange who always make you park in a certain spot? Nowhere to be found. It was every car for himself. Most turned right towards the stadium so I turned left towards the end of the lot to find a spot. First thing I saw was a traffic island. Well, I didn't actually see it. But I felt it as I drove up and over it. I think some guy in orange yelled at me from the distance but I'm not sure. I kept going further and further away from the stadium. Lots of snow and cars. No spots. Finally. Finally! I found a spot between a snowbank and a porta-potty. It wasn't really a spot but I was taking it. I got out of the car, put on my layers, and called Mark. "I made it," I said. "Where are you guys?" He told me they were waiting by the South Gate with my ticket and a cocktail. A cocktail? I started running.
I ran the length of the lot, passing people who seemed to be wandering around lost among the mounds of snow. As the National Anthem played in the stadium I got to the gate where Mark and Bergs were standing. "Here," Mark said as he handed me a heavily iced vodka and cranberry juice. "I made it a double. Figured you'd need that." With a smile I drank it down as if we were in a desert instead of a winter wonderland.
We got to our seats and found that most of the stadium was still covered in deep snow. The steps had been mostly cleared but the rows had enough snow in them that you couldn't get your seat to go down all the way. What to do? The people in front of us hadn't arrived yet so we simpled kicked and pushed as much snow as we could down on their seats. Just as the people behind us had done earlier. Slowly but surely the snow was making its way to the bottom of the stadium. One fan, one row at a time. I had a flashback to the old stadium when it was filled with snow and how it always led to snow (more like chunks of ice) being hurled through the stands. I never got nailed but there were some close calls.
Gillette was quite a sight with all the snow but the game itself wasn't much to see. Adam Vinatieri kicked a field goal in the first quarter and that 3-0 score was holding up with nine minutes to go in the fourth. The Dolphins had the ball at their own goal line. QB Jay Fielder dropped back to pass and threw a dart on a quick slant to the right. Tedy Bruschi, who had already returned three picks for TDs that season (that's what playmakers do), stepped in front of the pass at about the five yard line and took it untouched into the endzone to make the score an insurmountable 10-0. As the touchdown music blared (Gary Glitter's "Rock 'n Roll Part 2," of course) the fans began picking up the snow and tossing it in the air every time they got to the part where everyone yells "Hey!" It looked like white fireworks going off. A much different snow experience than in the old stadium. People laughed and tossed snow again when the Pats recorded a safety and they continued the snow tossing magic when the victory became official. We were all kids again playing in the snow.
After the game, Bruschi was quoted as saying "That was incredible, wasn't it? Throwing the snow up in the air with the music. It got me into the holiday spirit." Five hours in traffic. No tailgate food. Snow piled on our seats. Holiday spirit? Tedy was right. Watching the snow fly in the air everyone in the stadium felt it too.
The game took less than three hours to play. It took me almost two hours longer than that to get to the stadium. It was worth it. If you look at the score you'd see a 12-0 win over a lousy Miami team. Just another regular season game, you might think, on the way to a Super Bowl title. Oh how wrong you would be.
This one's called the "Snowball Game" for the impromptu -- and kind of magical -- method of celebration that the Pats fans created with the snow piled up in the stands. Did I mention the snow? Twenty-eight inches fell on southeastern Mass. overnight and into that Sunday morning. Although at times it seemed more like 28 feet. I started shoveling at 5 a.m. in order to meet Mark and Bergs in the lot by 9. I was a little late. As the shovel broke through the snowbank of my driveway into the street I looked at my Doberman-Shepherd and thought "If I only had 11 more of her to pull me on a sled to the game." It would have been faster.
I loaded up the car for the wintry tailgate I was anticipating and headed down the street. It was just before 8 a.m. as I called Mark to let him know I was on my way. "Bergs and I are stuck in traffic on Route 1 but we are almost there," he said. "I may be a little late," I said. "But I should be there soon." I only lived 20 minutes away. A quick stop at Dunkins' (28 inches of snow doesn't stop the mail or the DD coffee) and I started my journey to Gillette.
There are many routes one can take to the stadium if you live in the next town. Of course all of them lead to the route to end all routes ... Route 1. I decided I would use the main roads and highways, figuring they would be plowed better than the back roads. So it was Rte. 140 to 95N to Rte. 1S. I knew I was in trouble as soon as I hit Rte. 140. Seems the main roads weren't really plowed either. The backup to get onto 140 was about a mile from the lights. I sat patiently in my car listening to the pre-game show and drinking my coffee. What would have taken about eight minutes on a clear day took my close to half an hour. But I crawled my way along the ramp to 95 hoping that my pace would quicken once I hit a real highway.
It didn't. The road was lined with cars that had skidded off the side. Some accompanied by tow trucks. Some clearly left there by their owners hours before. The three-lane highway was down to one barely passable path down the middle. I slid my way into the traffic and resumed my crawl. "Route 1 getting to the stadium is not moving," one of the Pats announcers said. "I'm glad I got here hours ago." No sooner had he said that when Mark called. "Route 1 is not moving," he told me. "Bergs and I have barely moved since we talked to you." It was now after 9 a.m. We decided to abandon our plan to meet in the P2 lot and agreed to just grab any spot we can when we got there and then find each other. "See you soon," I said.
The single lane on 95 moved at speeds varying between two and five miles an hour. Mostly two. "I should have bought another coffee," I thought to myself as I made my way along the ramp to Route 1 as the clock neared 10 in the morning. An hour on Rte 95 to go just about 2 miles. I got to the turnaround on Route 1 and merged into the traffic heading south to the stadium. The cars were barely moving. The clock -- on the other hand -- seemed to be moving faster. 30 minutes later I had made my way to the three-miles-from-the-stadium sign. Three miles to go. Almost there! The radio guy chimed in again. "If you are not at the stadium yet," he advised. "You aren't getting here. State Police are urging people who haven't left yet to stay home. And my advice to those who are on the road right now is turn around and go home."
Turn around and go home? It's just after 11 and I'm three miles away. The game doesn't start for two hours. Hell, I can still cram down a burger and a few drinks if I get there in 90 minutes. Turn around and go home? I've been on the road for three hours. It's going to take me that long just to get home. Turn around and go home? Screw that. I turned off the announcers and put on some music. Around 11:30 Mark called. "We're in!" he announced. "How close are you?" I told him I was about two miles away and that traffic was beginning to move a little. "Two miles?" he said. "OK, well we'll start cooking and have something ready when you get here."
As the clock moved past noon the aggravation level began to rise. I know there's a lot of snow but why is it taking this long? The roads are bad but they aren't that bad. I soon had my answer. I made my way through the booth to pay my parking toll and all I could see were giant mountains of snow. There had to be parking spots somewhere out there. But where? And where are the guys in orange who always make you park in a certain spot? Nowhere to be found. It was every car for himself. Most turned right towards the stadium so I turned left towards the end of the lot to find a spot. First thing I saw was a traffic island. Well, I didn't actually see it. But I felt it as I drove up and over it. I think some guy in orange yelled at me from the distance but I'm not sure. I kept going further and further away from the stadium. Lots of snow and cars. No spots. Finally. Finally! I found a spot between a snowbank and a porta-potty. It wasn't really a spot but I was taking it. I got out of the car, put on my layers, and called Mark. "I made it," I said. "Where are you guys?" He told me they were waiting by the South Gate with my ticket and a cocktail. A cocktail? I started running.
I ran the length of the lot, passing people who seemed to be wandering around lost among the mounds of snow. As the National Anthem played in the stadium I got to the gate where Mark and Bergs were standing. "Here," Mark said as he handed me a heavily iced vodka and cranberry juice. "I made it a double. Figured you'd need that." With a smile I drank it down as if we were in a desert instead of a winter wonderland.
We got to our seats and found that most of the stadium was still covered in deep snow. The steps had been mostly cleared but the rows had enough snow in them that you couldn't get your seat to go down all the way. What to do? The people in front of us hadn't arrived yet so we simpled kicked and pushed as much snow as we could down on their seats. Just as the people behind us had done earlier. Slowly but surely the snow was making its way to the bottom of the stadium. One fan, one row at a time. I had a flashback to the old stadium when it was filled with snow and how it always led to snow (more like chunks of ice) being hurled through the stands. I never got nailed but there were some close calls.
Gillette was quite a sight with all the snow but the game itself wasn't much to see. Adam Vinatieri kicked a field goal in the first quarter and that 3-0 score was holding up with nine minutes to go in the fourth. The Dolphins had the ball at their own goal line. QB Jay Fielder dropped back to pass and threw a dart on a quick slant to the right. Tedy Bruschi, who had already returned three picks for TDs that season (that's what playmakers do), stepped in front of the pass at about the five yard line and took it untouched into the endzone to make the score an insurmountable 10-0. As the touchdown music blared (Gary Glitter's "Rock 'n Roll Part 2," of course) the fans began picking up the snow and tossing it in the air every time they got to the part where everyone yells "Hey!" It looked like white fireworks going off. A much different snow experience than in the old stadium. People laughed and tossed snow again when the Pats recorded a safety and they continued the snow tossing magic when the victory became official. We were all kids again playing in the snow.
After the game, Bruschi was quoted as saying "That was incredible, wasn't it? Throwing the snow up in the air with the music. It got me into the holiday spirit." Five hours in traffic. No tailgate food. Snow piled on our seats. Holiday spirit? Tedy was right. Watching the snow fly in the air everyone in the stadium felt it too.
No comments:
Post a Comment