September—Lambeau

The traffic slowed to a near stop, allowing for the opportunity to look around. In the distance, towering above the single story homes and businesses, there was something seemingly out of place. In truth, it wasn’t at all.

This was my first trip to Green Bay. My beloved Fighting Irish were opening their season against the University of Wisconsin. Originally scheduled to be played in 2020, the game had been postponed, making this early September meeting more anticipated.

Goosebumps, stirred by emotion, overtook me as I saw the giant G in the sky, welcoming me to Lambeau Field. “There it is,” I excitedly pointed out to my fellow passengers—it was their first time visiting this sacred space as well.

As we sat in line, the parking lot still waiting to be opened, my thoughts raced as I looked at the iconic venue. I had heard about the gracefulness of Paul Hornung. I knew Bart Starr as a coach. Lombardi’s biography fascinated me when I read it years before. Favre, Rodgers, the Lambeau Leap, they were all part of the lore—while I had never been here, somehow these images had made the place familiar.

Yet it didn’t make sense. Seemingly tucked into the backyards of homes sat an enormous NFL stadium, practice fields, and a conference center. Perhaps I was the one that was out of place.

My day continued. I walked the grounds and partook in the sights, sounds, and tastes of tailgating. As kickoff neared, I climbed the steps of the Oneida Nation Gate.

And then, as I walked through the tunnel, the field—the fabled frozen tundra—appeared before me. Echoing in my mind was the voice of John Facenda poetically describing the scene.

Notre Dame and Wisconsin players warmed up; music played on the speakers, the giant video board displayed the Shamrock Series logo.

Goosebumps again.

In all honesty, the game was meh. The first half dragged on forever, and ND ran away with it early in the third quarter. But that wasn’t what this was about. The game wasn’t the reason for the goosebumps.

As I left the stadium, I turned for one last look. The giant G that had given me goosebumps hours earlier, now illuminated, still towered above the neighborhood.

Retracing my steps, I thought about my reaction when I first saw it rising above the houses. Lambeau had seemed strangely out of place.

It wasn’t.

The sights, the sounds, the history—another sign that I am now home.