Groups of men and boys, large and small, bound together as neighbors and warriors, joined as one to do combat on pitched fields of battle, their grunts and groans, tears and joy, pain and suffering, their blood and sweat, all mixing together on the grand stage we call the gridiron, all coming together to weave a glorious tapestry of human drama, the sights and sounds to many, becoming more beautiful than a thousand symphonies, their movements more graceful than a thousand ballets.

The legend grew, and still today, we take this rich tapestry created nearly a century ago, and we wrap it around our lives and friends each year in the fall, to keep us comfortable and warm, to make us feel vibrant and alive, to bond us to our communities and birthplaces, and to celebrate friendship and life.

Many men and women have added to it’s threads over the years, the men passing along the love of the game to their sons, husbands to wives, and parents to children over generation after generation. We as fans all have a place amongst it’s design, and for that we are rich beyond words.

There have been many potholes, bumps, and wicked turns along the way to be sure, because with time comes change, some for the good, some unfortunately for the worse. The simple joys of athletic competition have been replaced by multi million dollar contracts, and endorsements, affordable tickets have been replaced by PSL’s and luxury boxes, community stadiums emboldened with the names of our heroes have been replaced by immense structures named after conglomerates of business. Steroids, sports agent, holdout, network executive, ephedra, stadium lease, and substance abuse policy, have unfortunately become all too familiar words in today’s sports lexicon. For all these things though, fortunately there is one constant.

The game itself.

Come February of each year the current show closes, and for 6 long months, the stage is empty, the theatre is dark. We cling to the memories of the deeds and the efforts we’ve seen put forth, of the accomplishments and disappointments we’ve shared and witnessed, and we wait, we wait for the day we know is coming, just as it does each year.

Well, if you listen closely you can hear the echoes stirring, the energy beginning to hum. The darkness is slowly lifting and a new chapter is beginning to take shape. We’ve welcomed new performers and said goodbye to the old. Our hopes are awash in the possibilities of what can be, our enthusiasm renewed, our youth revisited.
It is as always this time of year, a glorious time to be alive.

In just a few days, the houselights once again are lit, the BBQ’s are fired up, and the tailgates and parties will begin to take place. The communal experience we all passionately savor will once again fill our lives with joy and bring upon us, new stories to pass on to our friends and loved ones, just as those men in that tiny car dealership in Ohio did 83 years ago.

Ladies and gentlemen, the houselights are dimming, the curtain is about to rise,
please take your seats and get ready to enjoy the show that is….

The 2003 NFL season.