TALES FROM THE TAILGATE
Patriots 17, Titans 14 (1/10/'04): The forecast for tailgating before today's AFC Championship game is promising. When me and my friends roll into the Enchanted Forest lot about six hours before kickoff temperatures are expected to be around 40 under partly sunny skies, albeit with a steady wind. Perfect day for grilling, drinking, and talking football. If only the game was scheduled to start while the sun was still in the sky. It's not. Kickoff will be around 6:30 and during the game temperatures are expected to go down into the 20s and the winds are expected to go up. Wind chill near zero. Hmmmm. Where I have heard that before? Right. The coldest game in Patriots' history.
The record shows that it was four degrees above zero at game time when the Patriots met the Titans at Gillette for a playoff game in the winter of '04. 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 were joined by my sister and her son, Pete. They scored tickets online and drove down from Maine to stand in the cold and tailgate with us. Since it was probably much colder in Maine (isn't it always?) I guess it wasn't that crazy.
My friends and I had season tickets since 1994 and during that time we 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. Football weather. 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 as men and women bundled in what looked like very flammable clothing stood just inches away from the flames. At one point a barrel positioned too close to a porta-john tipped over and the plastic toilet caught on fire, the flames slowly rising higher and higher. The fire engine on standby at the lot had to fight its way through the growing crowd gathered around the burning toilet 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 for a little while.
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 chunks of frozen 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 up before we headed 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." It was not the first tailgating incident involving Billy and fire and it wouldn't be the last.
We put out Billy's boots and then joined the thousands of faceless fans streaming into the stadium in the hopes that the lights and the body heat from the crowd would provide some warmth. It didn't. It was just as cold inside the stadium. Not too cold to continue drinking beer, but surely too cold to play good football. Tom Brady proved it wasn't too cold to play good football when he connected with Bethel Johnson (remember him?) on a bomb down the middle of the field just five minutes into the game. Everyone in the crowd was so grateful to have something to jump around and high five about that we celebrated that touchdown for a good 10 minutes.
The Titans showed they could also play some good football in bitter cold and the back-and-forth game was tied 14-14 with just more than four minutes to play. The tension was as tough to take as the cold. Adam Vinatieri (remember him?) stepped onto the field to try to kick a 46-yard field goal. Vinatieri is known for his two kicks in the Snow Bowl against the Raiders and of course his two Super Bowl game winners, but his kick in the ice cold against Tennessee is the one I will remember the most. Why? Because I can still hear the sound of his foot hitting the ball. It sounded like a cannon because the ball was so frozen. But somehow #4, as he always did, managed to get that cinder block of a ball in the air and between the uprights to give the Pats a 17-14 lead. The Pats held on for the win and the crowd, feeling almost toasty, celebrated as the players hurried for the warmth of the locker room.
Every now and then, even on a warm summer day, I get a little chill inside. I think it's leftover from that day in 2004. Fortunately I don't think I'll need to set my boots on fire today. It's not supposed to be that cold.
