Bow Down to the Silver and Black! Part II

Once inside the stadium, Michael had to pull me through the sardine-can crowd to the suite elevators. A small but thuggy-looking guy in a coat many times larger than he was waiting in front of the doors. He was flanked by two massive men who were half-swatting away a pack of cell phone photographers. The guy was known! But who was he? I bet Natalie would know – I took a photo and sent it. The elevator was small so one of the bodyguards had to ride alone, which struck me as funny. I wished I could identify the celeb, oh well. He couldn’t be a football player, that’s for sure.

I saw a service cart go by, laden with champagne bottles –yes! Could the caviar and blini be far behind? Maybe not, but I soon learned none of it was destined for our suite. Instead, our host opted for a “different” catering package: light beer and margaritas made with what appeared to be a fluorescent green food coloring - like the stuff in The Incredible Hulk movie. Yuck. And nachos. After introductions it was time to turn around and brave the crowds again to go down to the field, where we would get to see the players warming up. This was a big honor, I was told, though I’d rather be gauging fellow guests’ business interest in Red House.

On the field, the players stretched and jogged. Most entertaining were the ultra-devoted fans assembled in the end zone. They never missed a home game. They believed. Their motto: “Real Men Wear Black” is not taken figuratively. The designer in me appreciated the efforts of so many to create such outrageously elaborate costumes. If the goal is to strike fear in the hearts of their competitors then they could not fail. The skull and crossbones are a motif. Bones of all kinds were strung as necklaces, bracelet and anklets. There were skulls on staffs to pound down during a touchdown, or impale opponents. There were silver wigs of massive proportions. I saw witch doctors, pirates, demons - all variations on the theme with faces painted in black and silver. I’m not sure who wore the most makeup, the fans or the Raiderettes. The field experience was surreal!

After the players were introduced they ran into their locker room, and as they did, they were touched by a phalanx of fans, who roared, chanted, screamed and otherwise blessed them with good juju and a little paint transfer – whatever it takes to win!

It was our turn to exit the field and get back to our tepid nachos. We too received the fans’ mojo as we left. I braced myself for the rain of hands and it wasn’t so bad. Dusting off some glitter from my charcoal gray pashmina (RH29) I could feel the instincts of a fan. I was a part of something big, and it was exciting! GO RAIDERS!