I’ve never been the hugest Kid Rock fan. His first major single, Bawitdaba, was good dumb fun, but since then it’s felt like a neverending parade of cowboy references and dumbed-down country music melodies. (Sort of like late period Bon Jovi, when you get right down to it, but with fewer styling products.)
But I can now report that when you’re in the Kid’s hometown of Detroit and his music is being blasted across a parking lot full of people gleefully drinking beer and playing cornhole, it all actually sounds pretty good.
Anyhow, the Redskins fans tailgating in Detroit were happily displaying Vote The Redskins Ticket gear. There were pins:
There were bumper stickers:
But one thing there weren’t were any of the lawn signs. It’s not surprising, I suppose; I certainly wouldn’t want to try to get the metal stakes for those things through airport security. From a distance, though, I thought one enterprising carload of fans had driven a few signs up from DC, but once I got closer it became clear that Ronnie’s Quality Meats must use the same sign designer as the Redskins Ticket.
There was one other sign that caught my attention in Detroit, for something you wouldn’t think people needed to have explained to them.
Any eccentricities of the city were more than made up for by my favorite press box so far in the NFL.
I really can’t express how much better it was not to be glassed in away from the action and the roar — well, dull mutterings — of the crowd.