Going to America right after the YUGGGGGGGEST election in its history seemed, to most Canadians we know, like a suicide mission. But we needed a break, and with my wife going back east for a conference and my Collective Agreement allowing for 15 days of “Leave of Absence: Without Pay”, it seemed like a good time to take a quick trip. But where to go from Toronto? New York was out, because she doesn’t like to do repeats. She’s already been to Philadelphia & Baltimore as well. I ruled out DC, because I wanted to be nowhere near there no matter the election results. So, we settled on Boston, because it has history, arts, and sports.

Once that was decided, it was off to the sports schedules:

• Bruins: out of town
• Celtics: playing the Knicks
• Patriots: playing the Seahawks

So that answered that question. Now came the cost of entry.

A quick trip online taught me that the NFL knows the value of a good lie:

BULLSHIT! Because when you try to use the official resale site of the NFL, you are greeted by this elitist garbage

For those of you with declining vision,

PLEASE NOTE: In order to use this service you must be a New England Patriot Season Ticket Member or a Wait List Member.

So, in order to purchase tickets at three times normal value, I have to be a member of a $100 club?  Dear Roger (or, in this case, RAJAH!), I think I know why attendance & interest might be declining. Prices on StubHub were starting at $300. I think this might actually be how “Fuck the Patriots!” became a thing.

Fortunately, I had an in – my season ticket rep with the Seahawks. It actually only took a couple of emails to get tickets from their visiting team allotment. Now, Section 339, Row 23, Seats 19 & 20 seemed closer to Everest base camp than the field, and I was paying cost – $125 per – but at least I was in.

Boston, if you get the chance, is a delightful town to visit. We stayed at the Ames Boston, a “Hilton Curio” hotel that simply appealed to me due to price. But the location is on the edge of the financial district, and is a nice walk to just about everywhere. It was about 10 minutes from the train station we needed to depart from for the game, and I was smart enough to know to buy tickets in advance.

On game day, I have to admit some nervousness about what I’d be facing at the stadium. I mean, we all know who to expect…

…but would I actually see him?

The South (train) Station is a nice old building that also looks, under the right lights, to house a shuttle to Hogwarts.

Upon arriving, a quick scan of the board told me which track (although it wasn’t hard to figure out, given all the people) to attend.

Once on the train, there were a few words about behaviour and location from one of Boston’s finest, who seemed pretty chipper to be giving it to Hawks fans despite probably having given the same speech to 14 other cars.

The key parts of his speech were “former freight line” and “tiny station”, because they’ve apparently only been running the service for three years, and the only line MBTA can use is a disused industrial line. This meant the train’s speed was limited to 20 mph and it took over an hour to get to Gillette. And “tiny station” meant only one car actually made it to the cement platform, so everyone else had to get off and walk beside the cars to get to the stadium path. After a brief journey under the highway, the zombie horde emerged to shuffle toward the stadium.

I will admit Bob Kraft is a real estate genius. The little mega-mall he built on the grave of the old Foxboro Stadium is impressive, and guaranteed income since there is fuck-all else out there. For pregame, there’s nine chain-restaurants, three hotels and 16000 parking spaces at either $40 for cars & motorcycles or $150 for RVs, tour buses & limos – but no open fires allowed!

Getting in was surprisingly smooth, mostly because everyone finished theirs outside the stadium, so they had nothing to port in. Some entertainment was provided by the woman who thought the NFL’s idea of “small clutch” meant her “$500 Coach bag”, which escalated to a “$1500 Coach purse!” the more she pleaded that she had to keep it. ‘JIMMY, THEH TRYIN’ TO TAKE MAH PURSE!” she cried, ignoring the staff’s repeated attempts to tell her they would let her store it for $10. Following my lovely wife’s advice, I didn’t stare at the car wreck and just walked in and past.

After that, it was time to scale the mountain, including getting a couple of beers at base camp – a.k.a. the 300-level concourse. The path to the 300’s is a gentle 10-ramp ascent, where you are rewarded with an immediate assortment of beers not named Bud Light. Naturally, I settled on the “Beers of New England” station.

I settled on the “L’il Heaven IPA”, and my wife had herself an Angry Orchard.

Finally, the seats.

Two rows from the top and in the corner, but still not a bad view.

You watched the game, so no need to recap it here. But the highlights from the stands:

• the loudest fans in my corner were definitely the Seahawks fans. While I was under strict orders not to get us into any skirmishes, many many others didn’t not have such boundaries. The roar when the Seahawks were on offence was loud, but nowhere near as loud as anything I’ve heard in the last six years at C-Link.
  • fanning the flames was Pete Carroll the next day, calling the NE fan reactions “OK. It’s not a great place. They weren’t nuts. It’s because they’re so used to winning.”
    • Deadspin followed that up by essentially comparing Patriots fans to 1990s Braves fans – people who don’t need to get excited until the playoffs.
• beer prices? Not terrible.
• The only stereotypical Pats fan? This guy:
  • Mind you, he was 6’5″ and 300 lbs., so some people thought about it but didn’t bother.
• Touchdowns seen? Plenty!
• Fortunately for us, lots of action occurred in our end.

Sadly, however, not the final series. And then, ultimately, came the sadness of the long walk & ride home out of the stadium for dejected fans of God’s precious angels.

God, I wish I could bottle that.

Thanks to the 8:30 PM start time, we didn’t get back to downtown until 1:45 AM. Methinks that added to everyone’s disappointment.

But the sun still came up the next day, and Gronk may or may not have had a punctured lung. I guess only the hookers he took home for warmth know for sure.

So, would I go back again? Shockingly, yes – the fans were very polite; the way to get there was not arduous; and the sightlines were as good as Century Link. If I had a choice, I’d choose a game with a 1:00 kickoff, or even a 4:00 start. But no way would I pay what they were trying to charge me on the secondary market. I’m not giving some Pats fan the satisfaction of charging me triple price; only real whores can do that, and unlike the Patriots they finish the job.