And the ball just stuck there

Part of me wishes I could say "I'm not a Packer fan, nor have I ever been one." That would be a lie, however.

Back in the early 90's I committed what would have been a cardinal sin for any sports hungry boy who grew up in Chicago- I started rooting for the Packers. Oh sure, I wasn't a Bears fan and my dad was from Wisconsin and grew up rooting for the Pack, but still- growing boys in Glen Ellyn aren't just supposed to start pulling for the Pack.

But I did. I was dressed in green and gold when #4 found #84 in the end zone in the Silverdome, when Reggie came to Titletown. I remember sitting in the parking lot of the now-holy pecan store in Tifton, Georgia listening to Brett roll out and dive into the end zone in the last game in Milwaukee County Stadium. The radio call of the Falcons announcers still sticks in my head:

"Favre rolls right, he's rolling, he's going to run, he dives, he scores"
"NOOOOOO"
"Touchdown Packers"

It was great, but the only thing missing was the voices of Jim and Max. Sitting in the car in sourthern Georgia I could only imagine how nuts Jim Irwin and Max McGee were going at the time. The always partisan, permanently loyal, homers to a fault Packer broadcasters loved their team, their city, their state and their listeners. I was one of them all too often during the 90s. I loved listening to them for the same reason I still love listening to Bob Uecker do Brewer games. Not only were they funny, not only were they entertaining, but you learned something about football at the same time. You enjoyed the broadcast with a smile, win or lose for the Pack.

And even though we could not make the trip down to New Orleans, they made us feel at home during that winter night in 1997 when the Packers beat the Pats and won it all.

Of course, for Max McGee, winning a Super Bowl was nothing new, he was there when the first one was won. Not only that, he found the end zone twice during that matchup of the AFL and NFL in a not-so-sold out LA Coliseum. As everyone knows McGee was hung over when he found the house twice, and as we all know now Max McGee is dead at the age of 75.

The world of sports has never been devoid of characters and my guess is that we will never have that problem. When Manny stops being Manny and TO goes and Planet Kobe ceases to revolve there will be plenty of characters waiting to fill their enormous voids. But Max McGee was an originial, a Super Bowl hero who told of his I legend parked in front of a lucious swimming pool at his home in Phoenix. Who parlayed those two scores and thousands of stories into a gig bringing us the wins and losses of the green and gold.

Oh sure, Max has been an afterthought for most of the last 8-10 years. Before you woke up this morning to read the horrible news I'm sure Max has not crossed you mind in the last few months. But every time we talk about Super Bowl heroes, when we mention John Elway's helicopter, Timmy Smith's career day, Larry Brown, Dwight Smith (Bucs reference, sorry) The Fridge, Adam Vinateri, and Jonh Taylor, we have to mention the unathletic, hung over wide receiver from the Packers whose career day just happened to be in the first ever Super Bowl.

Thanks Max for all the memories, the stories, and the laughs. Here's hoping that wherever you are there is a well-stocked bar and that St. Vince is kind enough to at least buy you that first drink.