Taking A Stand: Titans game fun, but it was freezing
I used to think I was an ironman when it came to enduring temperature extremes. I’m one of those annoying people you’ll see wearing short sleeves when most other folks are dressed to the gills with heavy coats during the winter.
Actually, for some reason, cold has generally not bothered me despite the fact I’m not that insulated with much body fat. I don’t know what it is, but I can endure cold extremes a lot better than heat. I sweat like a fat man when the temperature reaches 80 or above. I look like a guy preaching at a Baptist tent revival in July. All I need is the hanky to wipe the sweat off my brow and I’d be taking up an offering and leading choruses of “Shall We Gather at the River.”
So, it was with this macho attitude I prepared for the Saturday evening Titans playoff game in Nashville. I dressed in fairly warm attire, including a sweat shirt and a hooded sweat coat. I saw others walking in, dressed like they were about to go to a Packers game in a blowing snowstorm.
“Look at that,” I told a heavily wrapped James Clark, pointing to one heavily insulated fan. “You’d think it was going to be 20 below out there. What a bunch of sissies.”
I figured it was going to be a cakewalk during the first quarter of the game, as I wore only my sweat shirt along the sidelines. However, as the second quarter started and the sun hid behind the stands, I could feel gusts of wind begin to penetrate my medium armor. I then retreated to my sweat jacket, throwing the hood over my head for good measure.
“A little bit nippy ain’t it,” I mumbled to James, pulling my hood tighter over my head, starting to feel a chill that just wouldn’t go away.
By halftime I was happy to make it to the media room and warm up, seeing I was starting to lose feeling in parts of my body. I was suddenly discovering I was in fact no Superman when it came to cold weather.
It was with almost some dread I walked back outside and was smacked in the face by the cold air.
“Now that’s cold,” I exclaimed as I felt the bite from the wind which was keeping the flag at the top of the stadium flying straight out.
I looked at my colleagues on the sidelines to notice their faces, all bright red with running noses, all jumping up and down like it was a hip-hop concert. Believe me, we took every opportunity, when the music was playing, to dance a jig.
So here I am, at what will probably go down as one of the greatest playoff games in NFL history, rooting for the clock to keep running. While I’m pulling for the Titans, a full half of my thought process is locked on how cold I am. For the first time in years, I’m fully chilled to the bone.
“I bet this is a great game if you’re watching it in your warm living room,” I heard myself telling another freezing photographer on the sideline, realizing at that point most folks would give their eye-teeth to be where I am.
As you can guess, I didn’t get much sympathy from anyone when I talked about how sore my throat was after the game and how my face was still wind burned by the chilling gusts.
“Ah, poor thing,” they’d say. “It must have been so tough on the sideline. We feel so sorry for you.”
However, in hindsight, it was so cold out there, I did have second thoughts about how it may have been better to watch the game from the comfort of my own home. It’s amazing how it can be so cold as to have a person re-think being at a classic football game.
Can you go in my place during the next cold weather playoff game in Nashville, you ask? No, I think I’ll make the sacrifice again for you, the readers.
(Duane Sherrill is a repoter for the Standard. He can be reached at 473-2191 or by e-mail at [email protected].)