“The Packers are going down and the Seahawks are going up!” chanted my 8-year-old daughter Gilly, before the infamous Packer vs. Seahawks playoff game a few weekends back. She had just finished painting signs and posting them around our house, prepping for a playoff game party we were hosting.

After pointing fingers right in her little sisters face, teasing her about the Packers, she got a penalty for excessive celebration. “You don’t know that yet Gilly,” my 6-year-old daughter cried hysterically, taking personal offense to her declarations, as if they had already won before the game started. My youngest has sided with the Packers, mostly because I’m a die-hard fan, as is her grandmother, and she likes sharing in our excitement.

I looked at my husband and said, “We’ve created a football fanatic, and it kind of scares me.”

“I know, but I also think it’s kind of awesome,” he said with a twinkle of pride in his eyes.

You see, we take football pretty seriously in our house. Most weekends in the fall and winter, saturday college games or NFL games on sunday are predictably on the TV. Often, there will be a pot of chili or red sauce simmering for hours on our stove, while my husband paces back and forth between the game and the kitchen. Stirring, and clapping, and texting taunts back and forth with his dad and brothers. He often calls into the living room to his daughter, “What’s the score kiddo?” And she happily reports back.

I’ve often suspected that my husband might actually have blue Penn State blood running through his veins, having grown up on the outskirts of Happy Valley in Pennsylvania. The whooping and hollering that come out of a room full of his family members on a game day could rival the loudest of cheers from the 105,000 plus fans cheering a touchdown in Beaver stadium. It’s as much a tradition as a passion, and he relishes it.

I on the other hand, grew up watching the Packers. Both my parents were born and raised in Green Bay, and several family members still regularly attend home games, as season tickets have been in the family since, well, pretty much the beginning. As a kid, the stories I was told about the Packers were legendary, and they were told as if the players were indeed our own distant relatives. My dad often attended games with his dad, back when the Packers literally played in a high school stadium. Sitting in the cold bleachers for about a $1 per ticket.  

Before Lambeau field was built in the late 50s, the team trained at St. Norbert College, and stayed in the dorms across from the house where my mom’s family lived. Growing up, the Packer players were part of her neighborhood. My uncle even became their quasi-mascot, spending his free time watching their practices. At one point, he broke his broke his leg after a fall from the front porch. Bart Starr, Jim Taylor, and Paul Hornung knocked on his front door. There they were, with an autographed football and uniform for my uncle. A get well soon wish from the players.

My Grandmother (my mom’s mom) was always their biggest fan in my eyes. She attended all the games, and was one of the first in line to buy season tickets, and ownership in the team. As she got older, and climbing the stadium steps became more cumbersome, she rooted for them from the comforts of her home. There wasn’t really an option of not cheering for the Packers around my family. It was just the expectation. It’s what we did.

My mom has followed her mother’s lead, and has become one of the worlds biggest fans. Part of me watches the games just because I know she is too, sitting on her own couch, on the other side of the country. I can hear her voice, cheering when they score a touchdown, and yelling, “Oh, come on!” when they fumble or make an incomplete pass. It’s a guarantee that my mom will get phone calls from all four of her children on Packer game days. We’ll quickly discuss the game, “Did you see that touchdown? They're playing so well this year, lets hope they keep it up.”

With our girls growing old enough to pay attention and be involved, the dynamic around the sport is changing for us. The older I get the more I realize that football keeps me connected to my past in many ways. And lately, it’s keeping me connected to my own family, as we love packing our living room full of family and friends. And the truth of the matter is, even though the Packers won’t be playing in the Super Bowl today, we’ll still be watching the game.

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About the Author

Sarah Millar

Sarah Millar is the managing editor at Mamalode. She has the pleasure of not only wrangling writers but also her two daughters and husband. When not moving words around on a page or curating the best of the information freeway, you'll find her delving into her love of teaching.