Pucko: Living for the Tailgate

As originally presented on the Rochester Press Box

Attending a professional football game sounds so simple.  It can be I suppose, but it usually isn’t.  Last Monday night provided the perfect time to reacquaint myself with the joys of being at the stadium for a National Football League game.

We had so much stuff to transport we needed to rent a van.  No problem.  We got an early start, arriving an hour before they actually opened the parking lots.  No problem.  But three hours for a proper tailgate party, including setup and tear down, a game or two and a few drinks, just isn’t enough time to do things at a leisurely pace.  By the end, you’re just throwing stuff back into the vehicle, confident that it will miraculously be easier to deal with, whenever you decide to actually deal with it.

You’re spending two hundred dollars per ticket, and even though the tailgate itself has cost you almost as much, you don’t really want to miss any of the game.  So, you leave the lot earlier than you’d like.  Progress to security and slug your way through the crowd.  Locate your seat, 27 rows up in the third deck.  Another 45 minutes have vanished and it’s time for kickoff.  No problem.  The largest man in the stadium, decked out in a Derrick Henry jersey sits right next to you, but the game goes well.  The game goes by in a blink and the Bills have it in hand early.  No problem.

The thing is, everything that could have gone right, went right.  You know the ride home will be tough and it doesn’t help that one of the small towns you pass through is conducting a sobriety checkpoint.  But by the time you get home, it’s 2:30 in the morning and you’ve put in a 14-hour day.

In the end, it’s all about being with the right people.  Enjoying a unique experience.  Having a great time.  Check.  Check.  Check.  But it is exhausting and I can’t imagine summoning the energy it takes to do this more than a couple times a year.  And I didn’t have to work in the morning.  So, to the core members of the Buffalo Bills Mafia, for doing this week after week, I salute you.  It’s a full-time job.