Paul and I went to the Titans game on Sunday.
The Titans lost to Cincinnati 24-17. Still, the day had many more wins than losses.
A three hour drive over (and back) is a great opportunity for father-son discussion. Paul told me a lot about music and theatre and his hopes and dreams for the future. He told me a little about his daily life and a lot about his future plans.
He even drove part of the way.
We’ve been very blessed over the years to spend such special times together as a family. Each year, both Holly and Paul get to pick a Titans game and the two of us will go as a special outing. Holly’s game will be in a month when the Titans host New Orleans.
We’ll have a special time that day as Paul and I had a special time yesterday. And, as the commercial tagline suggests, a day like yesterday is worth more than the cost of admission. It’s priceless.
Amidst all the father and son fun yesterday, though, I will admit there were some surreal moments.
First, crossing the Shelby Street Bridge has turned into quite an ‘experience.’
When the bridge re-opened a few years ago, it was easily the most direct route for foot traffic moving northeast from the southeastern edge of downtown over the Cumberland River to L.P. Field.
Now…it’s a carnival.
Before you even reach the bridge, a colorful collection of street vendors present their wares – from Cokes to Cotton Candy. And, in case you’re short a ticket or two – or want to upgrade – there are always helpful ticket brokers on the street to assist you.
Crossing the bridge, you can find an assortment of youth football players asking for donations, street preachers trying to convert you, musicians trying to make a buck and, yesterday, for the first time, I saw a ‘living statue.’ A somewhat elderly fellow, he reminded me a of a cross between Stonewall Jackson and Marshall Dillon.
Actually, not far past Stonewall is where Paul and I paused to pose for pictures on the bridge with the stadium as our backdrop.
Finally, you make it through the obstacle course and wind your way past the grills and corn hole games of tailgate city. One crossing guard later and you are on your way to the stadium gates. For us, that means we are closer to our seats and that means we, again, get to see the world’s loudest fan. For purposes of anonymity, I will refer to her in this blog simply as ‘THE FAN.’
THE FAN loves her team and she loves to display that love with assortment of cheers, chants and banging/clanging on the seat next to her. And she’s quite convinced that she has a direct impact on the game. I don’t have any problem with that sort of sports fan passion. What I DO have a problem with is the fact that THE FAN just doesn’t know a thing about the game.
For example: Yesterday, on one occasion, Titans QB Matt Hasselbeck was being chased from the pocket. He dumped the ball off to a safety valve receiver out of the backfield. She chided Matt for not throwing the ball ‘past the orange marker’ downfield. Later, the Titans had advanced the ball to the red zone just before halftime. When Hasselbeck was again being pressured, he threw the ball out of the end zone. She screamed “Who were you throwing to?”
A little football knowledge would go a long way.
Don’t get me started on Chris Johnson. THE FAN has absolutely NOTHING good to say about CJ – even when he does something good. And any time the Titans are on defense, she shrills at the top of her lungs ‘taaaaaaaaaaaaacklllllllllllllllllllllle!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’
Like they wouldn’t think of that.
On and on and on; three hours worth; four quarters worth. At times, THE FAN makes the colorful characters on the Shelby Street Bridge seem mild-mannered.
As Paul said to me yesterday, “Just think. She’s probably someone’s grandmother.”
Come to think of it, ‘Stonewall’ is probably someone’s granddad, too.
JG
Originally posted 11/7/2011
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