Since my friends and I were in Green Bay, Wisconsin, and not New York or Chicago, the Packers were constantly with us. Under Coach Lombardi, they were heroes, their names known nationwide. Yet, miraculously, they were accessible! In those days before shopping centers, they had to come downtown regularly. If we made the tedious journey on the East De Pere bus, we might run into them shopping at Prange's or lunching at the Northland Hotel. And we made every effort to do so.

We're not proud of everything we did. But we sure had fun.

The Packers were our Elvis, our Beatles—or at least our Ringo Starr. If the drummer's name conjures Jim R. and Bart S., you're first of all a Packer fan.

The Packers' influence was felt far beyond sports. The Lombardi philosophy and work ethic could be applied to every facet of life. We were fed a mix of sports coaching, religion, and family values that played well with our Midwestern upbringing.

... But when you're twelve or thirteen and the object of your affections is twenty-five, there's just one problem: You're bound to be throwing ... incomplete passes.