Tailgating

Tomorrow marks Week 4 of my 16th season as a New England Patriots season ticket holder. By my very rough calculations - using a bean bag, silly putty and an abacus - I have attended approximately 130 or so games.

Being a season ticket holder to an NFL team is a pretty neat experience. Unlike folks who watch the games on TV, season ticket holders have a unique and close relationship with their team. After all, we don't just invest money for tickets, we invest time to attend the games and energy to cheer. For those who tailgate, the time and monetary commitment are even higher. Although I root for all of the Boston teams, the Patriots will always remain my priority because I am not just a fan, I am a participant in the experience. Boston will always be considered a Red Sox town, but I would suspect that many of the 68,000 fans who attend the Pats' games share my perspective.

My dad, who procured the tickets back in 1994 and went to the games until 2000, was not exactly the tailgate type. However, since he retired to The Place Where People Go to Die, Florida (zip code: 25, which is also the average driving speed on the highways), I take every opportunity to tailgate.

Why? Because going to a football game without tailgating is like being a vegetarian. Sure, you could do it, but why on earth would you want to? And if you are a vegetarian who tailgates, then please stop reading this and just go away. And take your tofu burgers. You disgust me.

While there are some obvious benefits to tailgating - such as bonding with pals while drinking beer and eating grilled meat - I have come to appreciate the hidden benefits. For instance, being outside in December for approximately 7.5 hours builds character, stamina and endurance. For the record, I am talking to you, Sox fans, who bitch and moan that it is "only" 55 degrees at the game in late September. Wimps. Try sitting - not moving around or exercising - but just sitting, in temps of 10-20 degrees all day. It does a body good. And keeps the outdoor sports stores in business.

Tailgating makes going to the game an all-day experience. For a 1 p.m. kickoff, I am usually out the door at 8 a.m. and pulling into the lot by 9. Eating and drinking quickly commences - usually about 5,000 calories worth - and lasts until around noon, when we pack up and head to the seats. On an average day, we are back in the car by 4:45 and I pull into my driveway by 6 p.m.

If you think tailgating is expensive, you would be mistaken. A decent beer inside the stadium is $10 (this is not a typo), hot dogs are $6 and popcorn is $5. So, if I had 3 beers, a dog and bag of popcorn, I'd spend $41. Most of my pre-game activities average about $50 or so, which buys a 12-pack of beer, a bunch of snacks, an "entree"," sides and a dessert...for two people.

So there you have it. As a Jew, I can't afford not to tailgate. Think of all the money I'd be wasting.

As much fun as tailgating is, the highlight of the day is always the actual game. To me, the worse the weather gets, the more I enjoy the game. I come across lots of folks who would much rather watch football on TV then in person. That is too bad. Watching at home or in a bar is warmer and more convenient (food, bathroom, etc.), but nothing beats being at the stadium.

Not only do I see many components of the game that don't show up on TV, but the energy of 68,000 lunatics, which can simultaneously boost the Pats and stress their opponent, is contagious. On opening night, when the Pats came back to beat the Bills, I can say with absolute certainty that my experience was twice as intense and emotionally fulfilling as someone who was watching from their couch.

Come 9 a.m. tomorrow, the ritual continues. I'll be sitting in my camping chair with a beer in hand, getting ready to fire up the grill. There will be meat in the cooler, snacks on the table and the smell of smoke wafting throughout the lot. And there will be no place I would rather be.

Except Vegas.