Stuck in the Mire

Now that the Patriots have finally emerged from their losing streak I can safely reflect on my experience at Gillette Stadium as a standing room only ticket holder for the Pats/Colts game on 11/5.

First off, it was bitch-ass cold. The fact that this was an early November game and I was stamping my feet to get warm was pathetic and made me wonder why I didn't live in California. Second, the idea of literally standing in one place without really moving for up to 4 hours is not an ideal experience. But for Ellis Hobbs and company, I guess I'd do anything.

And what was up with the security? They were everywhere and extremely visible. Standing room patrons were not allowed to even lean on the railing in between the standing room areas and the first level of seating around the entire stadium forcing them to adhere to some arbitrary rule that required us to stand behind a yellow line that was regularly patrolled by Gillette Stadium security personnel who insisted on walking directly on it as they passed in front of you.

We were pretty close to the action and I had my binocs with me (this time without whiskey inside) so I saw all of the interceptions and bobbled passes (thank you Kevin Faulk!) crystal clear.

The game itself we all know about. The emotions of Pats fans everywhere were pretty well summed up by Richard Seymour's frustrated stomping on the chest of Colts OG Tarik Glenn. How the actions of two large men well over 300 pounds in front of an audience of thousands went unnoticed and unpunished until two weeks later is beyond me. Whatever.

Speaking of the crowd I finally felt that I had something in common with the Ironworkers, Electricians and ditch diggers of this part of the world. An extreme hatred of Peyton Manning and how glib he appears in all of this commercials and an extreme love of Rodney Harrison and the desire to see him separate opposing receiver's heads from their bodies.