Going to the Patriots a bit different
by Bill Gouveia
Sunday night will find me once again at Gillette Stadium as I begin my 48th season as a New England Patriot season ticket holder. There will be a banner unveiling, a celebration of another championship, and a game against the Pittsburgh Steelers.
But despite the celebration and excitement, this season opener won’t be the same for this fan — and it has nothing to do with what’s happening on the field.
For the first time in probably three decades, my best friend Rick won’t be sitting next to me. He determined this off-season that the last 40 years had seen enough treks to Foxboro, and decided to go out on a high note following another championship. He traded his ticket for the comfort of watching the games from home.
I’ll be at the Steelers game with both my sons, which is totally awesome. But there will be a difference. And with that difference comes the realization that my own time for attending these games is not endless, despite me insisting it is.
Rick and I had a routine, without even realizing we had a routine. We’ve been friends since the first grade. My kids grew up calling him “Uncle Rick,” his son is my godson, and I love his daughters dearly. Suffice to say, we know how to bust each other pretty well.
I would always tease him and ask if he brought his plastic lanyard to hold his ticket, which he forgot once and we never let him live it down. Then we’d compare how we dressed for the game, and what our wives had told us we should wear for the weather.
He’d make me check the tickets five times before we left, because I once brought the wrong ones. We’d then make the same jokes about traffic to the game, getting to our parking spot, and the long walk to the stadium. My sons would just shake their heads.
During the games we had our own language, formed from years of watching the worst franchise in football become the best.
When the Patriots got a first down deep in the opponent’s territory, we would turn to each other and hold up three fingers, joking that it would only lead to a field goal.
And our inside jokes about the great people sitting around us over the years were communicated with simple gestures that we didn’t have to explain, and laughed at every time.
I’m going to be with at least one of my sons for each contest going forward, and probably a few of my grandchildren too — a truly special treat. I started going to games with my grandfather, before I went with Rick.
Rick’s not gone — he’s in better shape than I am (that’s not saying much), and we’ll still see each other.
But unless I convince him to attend a game or two along the way, our game-day traditions have come to an end.
I’m going to try and at least make the 50 year mark. Rick says he’ll congratulate me when I do — from the warmth and comfort of his couch.
I’m psyched for Sunday. But it will be a different experience.
Bill Gouveia is a local columnist and diehard Patriots fan. He can be emailed at billsinsidelook@gmail.com and followed on Twitter at @Billinsidelook.
