The Ultimate Sin of a Tailgater

What could the Ultimate Sin be?

Lose your tickets? Have too many frosty beverages and pass out in your seats? Forgot to fill the propane?  Left the game and missed a last second victory(for the record I stayed for the Monday Night game versus Buffalo but left during the snow bowl versus the Raiders in 2001)?

Well all these things can call for your exile from the Kingdom of Tailgate.

However, I committed the Ultimate Sin.

I had tickets for the Blizzard of 59 yesterday against the Titans. The game where they destroyed the team from Tennessee in every way possible. The game the Patriots set league and franchise records.

The game when it bleepin’ snowed in October!!!

My friend, whose name will be protected for legal reasons, accompanied me to the game. We will call him “Dana”.

We met up with his friends and headed to Foxboro in this dreary fall day. Yes I said fall. Not winter! No weatherperson said a damn thing about snow.

When we reached Rodman Ford on Route 1 across from the Razor around 130PM. The weather was as nasty as it possibly could be.

Pouring rain.

High winds.

Raw cold.

I was rethinking “Dana’s” earlier offer of paying me for my ticket and going to our local watering hole, the Sky Box in Tewksbury.

I said to “Dana”, “If your friends are still going and have a tent, we should go and stick it out.”

I already packed my truck, bought food, and the beers were on ice. I figured time for an old boy scout try.

I have had season tickets for 15 years. I have gone to dozens of games in my life. The weather has been very good for a majority of them even the winter games.

However, as I get older (the ripe old age of 36), I can’t afford and don’t go to many games. I may go to 4 or 5 games a year and I want the weather to be pristine.

The preseason game versus the Giants was a fantastic summer day.

The opener versus Buffalo was picturesque.

The game versus Atlanta was crappy but the rain was light and the temps were still in the 60’s (props to my Wal-Mart $10 rain gear).

However, the game against the Titans was another ball of wax.

My friends and I looked like we were Gorton’s fishermen.

Our “waterproof” boots were no longer waterproof with the relentless snow and rain. I know now what the squishing of wet socks sounds like.

Our pop tent was getting blown around like a newly fallen oak tree leaf.

The food was great. Well I cooked and I bought some kick ass ribs, so I am bias.

The beer was tasty and the buzz was needed in this monsoon.

As we packed up our trucks with water logged gear and made our nomadic trek like Wal Mart Jedi Masters in plastic cloaks, my passion to sit in a wet and windy Gillette Stadium was fleeting.

“Dana” and I looked broken, beat, and scarred (great Metallica song). We looked at each other as we made out way up to Patriot place and we committed the Ultimate Sin.

Get your mind out if the gutters!!!

Patriot Place shined through the snow like the Emerald City in the Wizard of Oz.

It was an oasis in the desert after walking with no water for days!

We said, “Let’s go to Bar Louie’s and watch the game!”

Yes, we had tickets and didn’t go in.

I am sorry, a snowy and windswept seat in the third ring of Saturn (section 336) was less appealing than a warm bar stool with plasma TV’s, a bevy of beers, and a semi clean restroom.

There was also a Mike Lowell imposter. He looked like him a bit, but Mike Lowell would not be wearing a ratty Sox hat and patriots T-shirt. If it was him, he would have a luxury box and wouldn’t be sporting a cheap poncho.

He was as much as a sham as was the Balloon Boy in Colorado! Too bad some naïve ladies still swooned over this loser and asked for autographs!

I tried to sell my tickets, but I only got one taker. A guy who said he walks to Patriots Place, who was by himself, offered me $20 for one ticket.

Even though the seats were going unused and I got pride man!

“Dana” ordered a decaf coffee. Yes that is not a typo. Decaf.

What’s the point? No caffeine. You might as well get a dirty cup of hot water.

I sipped on some fine nectar. Sam Adams Cherry Wheat and Magic Hat No. 9 were the beverages of choice.

Life was good.

The Patriots were pummeling the poor Titans. You almost felt bad for Jeff Fisher.

I decided to update Facebook with my current warm and joyful status.

I said something to the effect of “At Bar Louie’s, not going into the game. I had enough of this weather!”

The hornets net was disturbed.

I poked a bear with a short stick.

I told my buddy, Rich that I like Obama.

All the members of the Tailgate Tribe (the crew I tailgated with for years) cut into me like a cow in a slaughterhouse.

I felt I was thrown into a pit of thorns sporting only a Speedo.

Old man. Woos. Old fart.

These were some of the slanders I received. My blackberry was melting in my hands as the perfect storm of razzing swirled.

Now keep in mind all of these people were in their warm houses watching the game on TV!!!

As I said to one of my younger friends, “I was tailgating when you still were watching the Original 90210!”

My friend, “Dana” and I left Bar Louie’s at halftime when the game was in hand.

Patriots 45 Titans 0

As we left, more fans left the game like rats off a sinking ship.

I liked parking at Rodman because you get out of there fairly quick. I failed to remember that is in the fourth quarter not at halftime in the snow.

You could usually go down the makeshift lane towards 95, but it wasn’t set up yet.

I was trapped.

I got diverted down south on Route 1 towards 495.

The Tailgate Gods were taunting me. We ended up sitting in traffic for almost an hour with everyone else who had enough of this Winter Wonderland in friggin’ October.

I committed the Ultimate Sin when it comes to the Commandments of the Tailgate.

Thou shalt go to game if thy have tickets.

However, no one mentioned you had to go if you had hypothermia and you couldn’t feel your feet!

Next game for me with be in December with the Tailgate Tribe. They already told me I won’t live my sin down.

Unless it’s in the 50’s and sunny, I may have to go to Tailgate Confession again!

Joe Gill is a featured blogger for Boston Sports Then and Now, Rootzoo.com and Trufan.com