We did the whole kit and caboodle. We feasted on brats and beer in what was an “I buy, you fly” fashion. We also found ourselves immersed in the jump around and unfortunately got to watch Charles Rogers burn us deep right in front of our eyes. For all extents and purposes we got crushed, but to the two of us it didn’t matter.
The ride home was quiet. Bob slept most of the way, and I dropped him off later that evening in what was a less than healthy state. Not a word was said about the adventure, but the appreciation from this proud man needed no verbalization.
We once again went our separate ways, back to our often disconnected lives.
Dr. Robert Price would pass away less than a year later. Our Badger game together was the only time we ever truly bonded as father and son. As I look back, I wish I would have taken the time to create more moments, but in the end, a trip to Camp Randall is all I have to hold onto.
My mother would tell me later on in life how much this trip had meant to my stepfather, and today I share with you exactly how much it meant to me.
Every day I try to take a moment to realize that there is more to sports than what happens on the field. It is about memories, it is about moments, and it is about making the time to enjoy a spectacle with those you love.
I bleed red and white. I have hung from trees on State Street after Rose Bowl wins, and I have watched Ron Dayne break every record in Wisconsin history.
None of this really matters to me. What does matter is the memory of a trip to Camp Randall, with the stepfather I barely knew, and how a trip to Madison changed all of that forever.
That, folks, is Badger Football.
Alex Tallitsch also owns and operates The Packers Lounge a blog on the net dedicated to the Green and Gold.
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