Our 14 year old twin nephews, McKenzie and McKorie, are spending the summer with us. They're from a sleepy little town, Douglas, deep in the southern parts of rural Georgia. They've already been impressed with Dayton as "big city living" so imagine how impressive Indianapolis could be. We had to take Monica to the Art Institute of Indianapolis for a week long workshop she's attending so we decided to take the opportunity to show the boys the city, lest they think Dayton truly is big city living! They are both huge NFL fans though not specifically a Colt's fan, they were nonetheless excited to see the RCA dome. I explained to them we'd only see the outside but they seemed satisfied with that.
We got Monica dropped off and situated then made our way downtown. We parked in a garage and as we made our way outside, I began to wonder if we really were wasting our time. It was, after all, just the outside of the dome. How exciting could it possibly be? We walked the block or so to the dome and there it stood before us. Impressive, I think, its dome-shaped enormous size with a magnificent set of steep stairs leading up to the main entrance, befitting a historic statehouse of architectural relevance. Equally impressive, though with a more modern flare, are the huge banners that are draped on the sides of the dome with action pictures of the players. Yes, impressive indeed and yet a bit anti-climatic as well. Within a few minutes of seeing the dome you realize that's it. There's nothing else to do or see and in fact, with out the hustle and bustle of a pre-game crowd, the experience isn't all that spectacular.
Typical tourist looking folks, we stood on the stairs snapping pictures of boys. I felt a bit of let down, like the air was being slowly let out of a tire, as I climbed down the long stairs back to street level. I wished it had been football season. Just standing outside of the dome didn't seem like enough. I looked down to the bottom of the stairs and saw Jerry talking to who I thought was a police officer. I quickly looked back at the boys, making sure they were not engaging in any inappropriate behavior that would draw the officer's attention. I mean, they were sliding down the hand rails and had been sitting on the embankment of the stairs posing for pictures but nothing destructive or obnoxious. As I approach Jerry and the gentleman, I notice he's a security guard and not a police officer. I thought he was going to chase us away but having all the pictures I had hoped to get, I was satisfied with that. Typical Jerry -- he was talking to the security guard as if they were long lost friends. By this time, the boys were also making their way towards us and I could see in their demeanor, they too thought we might be getting a slight scolding. As the boys were approaching the security guard said, "So which one of you is a Colt's fan?" All three boys, the nephews and Zach, looked at each other and none claimed to be a Colt's fan. Ugh! Even I, the least football knowledgeable person on this earth had sense enough to if not claim the Colt's as a favorite team, at least throw some accolades their way! We were standing on their home turf. Show the Colt's some love! The security guard smirked and said, "Well, that's too bad. I'm really sorry to hear that because if you were a fan I would've taken you inside but being you really don't . . . " McKenzie then cut in saying, "Well, I'm not a fan but I like 'em. I like the Colt's and they sure are good." Good save, a desperate flailing attempt at a recover but an overall good save. "Here's what I can do for you then," the security guard continued, "they're working on the field so I can't get you onto that but you can see the field and possibly the locker rooms too, would you like that?" They were speechless, those boys were. All they could do was nod their heads. I looked over at McKenzie and as he would later describe this instance to his mother, "Auntie Melissa and I just looked at each other with our jaws dropped down to our knees."
The guard took us through a special entrance and though it might not be the one the players use, that's what I like to think it was. We walked down a long circular hallway. The hallway itself wasn't anything spectacular but as we were walking along I imagined all the great football players that had trod this way over the years. I'm not a big football fan or for that matter, any sports fan. I mean, I love my hometown Chicago teams but certainly not to the extent I go to any games or even follow the seasons very closely. I'm also not very easily star struck but here I was walking down this hallway as giddy as any grade school girl ever was. I could tell we were in a restricted area that not everyone gets to see. Though the dome was as dead as a western ghost town, there was still a sense of game-time excitement in the air. You could almost hear the cleats clicking along the cement floors. We walked passed some glass doors that lead out onto the field and we almost stopped to take a look but our tour guide was steady walking ahead, so onward we went. As we walked along our guide warned us of two things. First of all, he said not to expect what you see on TV as the field appears much smaller in person that on TV. Secondly he warned us that once he opened the door, we would feel a gush of wind since the dome of the stadium is kept up by air. We prepared ourselves on both accounts.
We soon were standing in a hallway that to me, looked a lot like a backstage area. There just ahead you could see the field and the bright white dome that capped the stadium. The boys were excited. I knew they were. I could feel it. We were standing at the very entrance the players use to go onto the field. Can't you just see it, feel it, and hear it -- all that football frenzy? There was yellow caution tape that blocked off entrance to the field so we couldn't step onto it but we were close enough! The boys all posed for pictures and our guide continued with our mini tour not before, however, McKorie reached down and ran his hand over the grass-like turf and exclaimed, "I touched it. Now I can say I touched that field!"
We then walked through what almost seemed like a series of mazes, still in a restricted area. We came upon a lounge where certain season ticket holders could come and hang out with the players before and after the games. It looked like some cheap bus station diner; I was very disappointed in that portion of it. And then there just ahead, we saw the signs, "Locker Room". Oh we were terribly dorky as we giggled and awed at just a stupid little sign.
The locker room wasn't at all what I expected. First of all, it was quite small. I mean there we stood in it completely empty and it seemed no larger than my own basement. Imagine it full of big bulky players, equipment, coaches, and staff -- and as I did imagine all of that, I realized just how tiny of a room it really was. There were no lockers in there, despite its name, but instead wooden cubbies with hooks, a lot like what you see in daycare centers. Cubbies, ha! That word makes me laugh when I think of some big burly man hanging his things inside of it. Placed in each locker (for the good of their manliness and due respect of their world champion status, I can no longer refer to them as cubbies) was a folding blue chair and though it was cushioned and plush, it didn't seem big enough or important enough for an NFL player. So though those things were a bit disappointing to me, the boys remained in awe. They each took out a chair and I took a picture of them sitting on it. And even in my own let downs, I was still very aware of where we were and what it meant to these young men that were with me. Getting caught up in the moment myself, despite beating my beloved Bears, I was a Colt's fan true and true, if only for a small slice in time.
We made our way back out of the winding hallways to the main street entrance. I was sad, just a little, that we were leaving. We couldn't thank our thoughtful guide enough, whose name shall remain anonymous because he told us he really wasn't supposed to allow people into the stadium. Before heading back to the van we took a few more pictures all the while McKenzie exclaiming over and over, "Now ain't this something!"
And it really was something.
Next big city tour, Chicago but I'm seriously doubting we'll get a personal tour of Soldiers Field.
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