Sunday in Foxboro

By Boston Dan
Correspondent for www.drunkenbleachers.com

We’ll take care of the drunken, you supply the bleachers.

This past Sunday, the bleachers team took on the New England Patriots… and DB lost.

It’s easy to be a Sox fan (wow I never thought I’d write that sentence)… It’s easy to be a Red Sox fan and think that you are part of the craziest, most rabid fan base in the world, because it’s true. But based on sheer volume of booze consumed by per person, Pats fans have Red Sox Nation beat. Of course this only stands true if you look at it from a yearly perspective, because cumulatively, Sox fans have drowned about 86 years of bad memories in disgusting Bud Light, but on a game to game basis, Pats fans might drink their weight in watered down beer. This is no small task (pun intended) since Patriots fans also outweigh Sox fans by an average of 37%.

When I arrived at the 49ers game today with my friend, we’ll call him Pat R., I arrived with severe misconceptions about football games, the human body, and I must say, even gender roles in American society. Who knew that attending an NFL game could be so educational?

My first misconception comes from being primarily a fan of Baseball, a sport in which spectators show up to watch the actual game. Patriots fans show up to drink beer, eat lots of food, wear ridiculous outfits, and find new and interesting places to urinate. I spent about 12 hours today “at the Pats’ game”, and only about 2 hours of that involved actual football. Many hours were spent (well spent, mind you) preparing for the tailgate party, tailgating, and tailgating post-game. During the tailgate, Pat and I thought we did pretty well for ourselves with gourmet steak tips, sausages and a wide selection of high-end beers. And we did. But we were also reminded of how resourceful college kids can be, when we walked past many a Beruit table surrounded by screaming BC kids, who apparently JUST showed up to play Beruit, didn’t know that the patriots were playing, and didn’t care. I also spotted some college folk having a 3 on 3 tackle football game in their van, and a game that involved throwing empty beer cans at a post, to see who could get closest. There was actually a pretty elaborate scoring system involved which I did not bother to figure out. They were all from MIT. Anyways, that was my first lesson: Football games are not really about football.

Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, I learned a bit about the human body. I learned, through watching the previously mentioned students, that:

-You CAN’T chug a gallon of milk. The results of an attempt to do so can be disastrous (but oddly aesthetically pleasing if said milk is strawberry).

-Even though my encyclopedia says that the human bladder can hold about 12-16 ounces of liquid, I witnessed men drink about 10 – 12 beers or 120-144 ounces before relieving themselves. Astounding.

-Apparently (if you’re a redneck) a sleeveless t-shirt is enough to keep you warm in subzero temperatures. This discovery is very bad news for companies like North Face and Columbia, since instead of dropping a few hundred dollars on a jacket that can keep you warm on the summit of Mt. Everest, we really only need to drop a few IQ points, and we won’t recognize the effects of hypothermia. In extreme cold, a NASCAR long sleeve T-shirt may be required.

Finally, for all the machismo that is usually attributed to football games and the men who attend, I have never seen so many men, so many very masculine men, strap on aprons and cook up so many complex food items. I think this is because at the game, cooking turns into a competition, to see who can come up with the most extravagant menu. Braised pheasant served over a bed of mixed field greens, basmati rice, and a citrus-based sauce? No problem, as long as you don’t mind that it’s paired with Schlitz beer instead of a 2001 Pinot Noir. I think these culinary feats are all the more impressive when you consider that they are prepared over a grill, and the chefs have no kitchen at their disposal.
Anyways, more coverage of the game will follow, but right now I need some sleep. I never really even got over my Post Boston Red Sox Victory Parade Hangover (PBRSVPH), and now I have to work on the post Pats game hangover.

Ouch.