At school, I start each class period by asking my students how their yesterdays were. On Mondays it’s, “How was the weekend?” On Tuesdays it’s, “How was your Monday?” You get the idea.
The other day’s prompt brought the usual updates about part-time jobs, the regional track meet, video games, and television shows.
“Did you see The Bachelorette?” one student asked.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Did you see the Brewers?” another shouted, “Corey Hart had three home runs and seven RBIs. It was amazing!”
“I know,” I replied, “I was there.”
I love saying that. I love being there for the excitement. I love tuning into SportsCenter later to watch highlights I saw first-hand. I love scrolling through my phone’s newsfeed to read about a sports story I already know, having witnessed it. It’s why I own a Brandon Jennings “double-nickel” tee – the one commemorating his 55-point game last season. I was there.
But at the very top of my all-time most amazing “I was there” sports experience is the Packers/Redskins game at Lambeau Field on September 24, 2001. It was the first Monday night game after September 11 – a date that now suffices without the suffix of a year.
I had planned on going to the game for well over a month – ever since it was announced that the Warhawk marching band would perform during halftime. As a junior at UW-Whitewater and a member of the drumline (yup, I was a long time band geek…let’s not act like anyone’s surprised), I had eagerly prepared for the show. As a Packer fan, I eagerly looked forward to just being there.
And then Tuesday, September 11 came and brought with it unspeakable tragedy. We all handled it the best we knew how. Students gathered in huddled masses around televisions in the University Center to watch the news. One of my professors continued on with his lesson as planned after acknowledging the events and reporting that his daughter, who worked near the World Trade Center, was, indeed, okay. Another professor cancelled class that night. “It just doesn’t seem like we should be here right now,” she said. And instead of returning to my dorm room, I drove the fifty minutes home that night to spend time with my family.
The next day was business as-well-as-could-be usual and the Warhawk marching band met on the practice field to rehearse. Plans had changed, however. In light of very recent events, we were given new sheet music and new charts to an entirely new show. There was no complaining, only concentration as we focused to learn the new show – one in which we spelled out “U.S.A.” on the field while playing “God Bless America.”
In the great scheme of things, our actions may not have seemed like much. But it was what we could do given the circumstances. Given the circumstances, it’s what we wanted to do. That week we conducted ourselves with dedication, determination, and devotion. We practiced and played with pride. And all of that is what made the announcement on Thursday, September 20 so difficult.
For security reasons, we would no longer be playing during the Monday night game. In fact, we wouldn’t be attending the game at all. I’d be lying if I said we didn’t care about the latter, but the former seemed to hit us harder.
Like I said though, I was there. My parents had bought tickets to the game, and my mom was kind enough to allow me the experience in her place. So my dad and I made the drive to Green Bay, took our American flags on the way into Lambeau Field, and chanted “U.S.A.!” with what seemed like the rest of the country after the national anthem. Then we helped cheer the Packers on to a 37-0 victory over the Redskins. It was all very emotional, extremely exciting, and completely inexplicable.
For a few hours that night, sports, people, community, and life became inexplicably intertwined. And I was there.
