(Note: This is a repost of a previous piece entitled “My First Experience with the New York Jets”. I felt it was appropriate to re release this on Father’s Day)
We had such success with Alex Parizale’s great piece, “The Day I Met a Legend“, that I wanted to write something in the same vein. I wanted to take a few minutes of time out from Tebow, from the draft, and everything else, to talk about my first experience with a Jets game. The day that I became a football fan for life.
The game my father took me to was November 24, 1985. I had just begun watching the Jets on television, but my Dad got tickets to this one against the Patriots at the Meadowlands, and I was 8 years old, chomping at the bit to go. We didn’t go to a lot of games, but when we did go it was great fun.
Furthering that, my father got seats near the 50 yard line, downstairs. I don’t remember how he did that, but man, what a way to be introduced to the game, huh?
It was a cool day, I remember that the game was a 4 PM start, and we all know that it’s always colder inside the stadium. My Dad got me all bundled up, I remember packing some soup, and hot cocoa in a thermos, and off we went.
I will tell you about what I remember. I remember walking through the tunnel, and just how big everything was. Remember the first time you went to a game, and just the expanse of it all? As an eight year old, I remember thinking, “Wow! This is a heck of a lot bigger than it is on TV, huh?” Obvious now, but to a kid, not so much.