There are movies that entertain, movies that inspire, and then there are movies that take root in your soul. Green & Gold is one of those movies.
Gannon and I saw it yesterday on opening weekend, and from the very first scene, I knew I was about to witness something special. A story about the humble, hardworking, God-fearing farming communities of Wisconsin—woven together with the deep, unwavering love for the Green Bay Packers—was bound to be emotional. But I wasn’t prepared for just how deeply it would resonate with me.
Sitting in that dark theater, memories of my childhood came rushing back, so vivid I could almost smell the fresh-cut hay. I was back on my grandma’s farm, watching my Uncle Pauly deliver a calf—his arm buried up to his shoulder to help bring new life into the world. I could feel the rough twine of hay bales in my hands, the weight of them just a little too much for my small arms to lift. I saw myself, cautiously walking the aisle of the old barn, petting the heads of the Holsteins, naming them—Bessie, Bossy, Lulu, Buttercup—just like Craig T. Nelson’s character, Buck, named his cows after the 1968 Packers Championship team.
I thought of my Grandma Alice, how fiercely my family cared for her after her stroke, how we did everything we could to keep her home, safe, and surrounded by love. When Jenny’s grandma had an accident on the farm, the ache in my heart was real. I knew that story.
And then came the real-life footage of the 1992 Green Bay Packers. Brett Favre, the Gunslinger. Sterling Sharpe. LeRoy Butler. John Jurkovic. Chris Jacke. The icons of my childhood, the voices of my dad and siblings echoing in my memory as we watched those games together. I had goosebumps reliving that era, the golden days of Sundays spent in front of the TV, where wins felt like magic and losses felt personal.
Craig T. Nelson embodied the kind of Wisconsin man I’ve known my whole life—the hardworking dairy farmer who loves God, his land, his family, and his neighbors. A man whose word is his bond, whose hands are rough from labor but gentle with his children. A man who always does the right thing, even loving his enemy.
And then there was Jenny—played so beautifully by Madison Lawlor. A girl growing up on a farm, knowing the work never ends, but still daring to dream of something more. I was Jenny. I understood the exhaustion, the longing, the pride. The way your roots never really let go of you, even when you reach for something beyond the fields.
As the credits rolled, I wiped my tears, turned to Gannon, and asked, “What did you think?”
“This is the greatest movie ever,” he said.
I nodded, my throat tight. It’s the Wisconsin, football, farming version of Field of Dreams, I thought.
And let’s not forget the voice of Charlie Berens, carrying through the film like a thread tying past and present together. It stirred something else inside me—a reminder of Bob Uecker, the voice of my childhood, the sound of sports radio humming in the background of my life. It made me realize, maybe more than ever, how proud I am to be from Wisconsin. To have farming in my blood, to be part of a community that shows up for each other, to wear green and gold like a badge of honor.
Gannon was right. Best movie ever. Go see it. And Go, Pack!
Hey Dana Jane 