Let’s rewind to 2007. Peyton was still a Colt, Brady was assaulting the record books, and Favre was enjoying a renaissance season. A simpler time for NFL fans.
And I practically missed all of it.
This was the pre-Twitter, pre-blogs, pre-find-a-stream-online era. Compounding the issue was my lack of a TV (a freshman dorm is a sitcom in itself) and lack of sports bars that would admit an under-21. Monday mornings were the best time for me; I spent the day enveloped in game highlights and game recaps from ESPN.com, NFL.com, etc. The only Packer games I got to watch in their entirety were in the playoffs.
Beyond Sundays, options for finding good NFL writing – let alone Packer specific writing – felt limited. I wasn’t yet privy to the Journal Sentinel or Press-Gazzette’s websites. A morning copy of the USA Today’s sports section with breakfast was a gold mine of NFL news. The only updates I had for Favreageddon ’08 came from SportsCenter (or Greta Van Susteren, bizarre a time as it was).
Despite this, I still felt connected. I “saw” Favre’s 2007 overtime bomb to Jennings on NFL.com’s GameCenter, and yelled like a madman. I even got to see a few clips of Rodgers’ first action at Dallas, thanks to the website’s “live look-ins.” (I may or may not have shattered a bottle of Purel against a hallway at some point in that game). I wondered how I survived before the internet, when I had to scour the morning paper for all of the scores. How did I ever go whole seasons watching Fox’s rectangular other-games score bug, anxiously waiting for it to flash “GB: 17, SF: 10”?
Looking back, I’m somewhat stunned how I felt connected. If I’m away from the internet for a day, I get the shakes. If I’m away from Packer news for over 12 hours, I twitch and get the urge to hurl insults at the Vikings-clad janitor at my gym. (And I would, if he wasn’t twice my size and had access to my locker).
How connected are we to the NFL? We live-tweeted the two-network broadcast of the NFL Draft and knee-jerk analyzed selections before the picks were announced.
With Twitter, with blogs, the abundance of ill/legal ways to watch an out-of-town game, it feels like it can’t get better. I knew when I turned 21 I could walk into my favorite bar and never miss a game, but even that isn’t enough. Try watching a game without Twitter. It feels hollow, as if the commentary is turned off. Speaking of which, I even have the luxury of muting Buck and Aikman and listening to Rock and Larrivee instead. I have instant access to video of every single game played since 2009. If I had the money I could watch any game live on my phone.
And somehow, it will still get better. How? I don’t know. Live Google Hangouts with players at halftime? Helmet cams that give you a first-person perspective on your phone, while you watch the action on the big-screen? Or maybe a proliferation of what NBC’s online Sunday Night Football player does, with access to multiple cameras that you can watch in your palm as you yell at your flatscreen.
For fans of out-of-town teams, Twitter, Sunday Ticket, blogs, and access to local newspapers are indispensable. I don’t live in Green Bay, but I can read the same paper and chat with the locals. If the game isn’t on local TV, I’m 5 minutes from my favorite booth and a pint.
Five years ago I thought watching an online graphic of a Packer helmet march across the digital turf was brilliant. Today it’s not even an adequate compliment to watching a live game. It’s a brave new world of fanhood, and I’m giddy for the future.
Yards And Miles 