On a quiet Sunday morning near Racine and Belmont, a man in chinos rolls a plush baby carriage past a block of condos. Across the street, over a row of hedges, looms a fiberglass moose. A group of guys in green-and-gold getups rounds the corner. One of them sports a football helmet. They spot someone in a number four jersey. “Hey, Favre!” they yell. They don’t know this person, but they all high-five the stranger before entering Will’s Northwoods Tavern and Supper Club, a Packer bar.
Why’s it so crowded? Most Packer games can’t be seen on regular cable, but Will’s has a subscription for the entire Green Bay schedule. The games draw people in, and Kruse’s Bloody Marys make for fast acquaintances. He says customers “just strike up a conversation about the game, and then I’ll introduce them.” The meetings aren’t always friendly–some people try to steal seats and get hurt.
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Not everyone is from up north. Many were raised in Illinois, even in Chicago. Matt Regan, a regular from Oak Park, says his mother grew up in the city but raised him as a Packer fan “to spite my grandfather. She had a crush on Bart Starr.” She bribed Regan with paraphernalia–pillowcases, hats, and shirts with green-and-gold logos that he foolishly wore to school. “I got beat up a lot as a kid.”
“That’s sick,” says Carey. “Their child will be a mutant.”
“How do you think we feel out on the streets every day?” says Carey. “When I come in here, I feel like whipping off my coat and yelling, ‘Sanctuary!’”
