Two Tickets to Paradise

packer tickets

            Two little tickets.  Paid admission into the game.  Who knew that those two little pieces of paper could bring so much joy to someone?  You see, my daughter is a Packer fan.  I am a Bear fan.  And God is a fan of humor.  So according to his grand scheme, I married into the green & gold of cheesedom.  I have never renounced my Halas history, and I still proudly don the blue and orange on gameday, but for a couple games a year, I get to visit historic Lambeau Field.  I get caught up in the hoopla of yelling “Go Pack Go”.  I scream hysterically when Aaron Rodgers zips a laser beam into the end zone, and afterwards when the receiver jaunts into the crowd with his Lambeau Leap. 

            Some might call me a traitor.  I’d like to think of myself as a hybrid.  Or a peace-maker.  In our home, we are passionate football fans.  We scream at the TV.  My daughter is no exception.  While she doesn’t care much about sports, she is a rabid cheese head.   

            She bleeds green and gold.  Deep down, it pains me.  How did a Bear fan sire a cheese head?  We can’t even watch together when our two teams line up on opposite sides of the field.  When she screams or cheers, I burn inside.  She is a Packer fan through and through.  She is a Packer evangelist, spreading the gospel of cheese wherever people will listen.  I think her wedding will be adorned with green and gold bouquets.  You get the idea.  

            But the tickets I have are not against my beloved Bears.  So this game is safe for me.  I’m not invested.  At least not in the team.  Rather, I am invested in my daughter.  And her happiness.  Even if it comes through watching my nemesis move up and down the field with the precision of a collegiate marching band.

            So the look on her face when I asked her to go to the game was priceless.  First, she froze.  She just stared at me, wondering if this offer was legit.  Then, her eyes watered, and she dove in for an enthusiastic and grateful embrace.  

            I think I did a Lambeau Leap inside.

            It just took two tickets.  Two tiny slips of paper to bring her such joy.

            Somewhere I hear Eddie Money singing.  “I’ve got two tickets to Paradise.”