Article submitted by Ty Morse, Producer, of “No Packers, No Life”
I was born in Wisconsin, on the shores of Lake Michigan—which means I grew up believing that weather is an adventure sport and that a horizon line is something you’re meant to stare at until it tells you a secret.
Like many kids raised near big water, I developed a taste for distant shores. Mine happened to be Japan. Long before I ever set foot there, I dreamed of neon city streets, quiet temples, and trains that arrived exactly when they said they would—a concept that felt almost supernatural to a Midwesterner raised on snowstorms and “we’ll get there when we get there.”
Eventually, I did make it to Japan. Not just as a traveler, but as an entrepreneur and business owner. These days, I work there regularly. I’ve learned the language just well enough to order ramen confidently and apologize profusely when I do everything else incorrectly. I’ve built friendships, partnerships, and a life rhythm that bridges two very different worlds.
And somewhere in the middle of all that—between boardrooms and ramen counters—I stumbled upon something that stopped me in my tracks.
I found Japanese fans of the Green Bay Packers.
Not casual fans. Not “I watched one Super Bowl” fans. But, fully committed, paint-your-face, stay-up-until-4-AM, arrange-your-living-room-like-a-shrine fans. People who knew Wisconsin geography better than some Wisconsinites. People who spoke about Green Bay the way pilgrims speak about sacred cities.
I remember thinking: I traveled across the world chasing a dream of Japan . . . and here are people in Japan dreaming of Wisconsin.
That’s where No Packers, No Life truly began.
On the surface, yes, this is a film about football. But, only in the same way a doorway is about wood. The real story is what’s on the other side. This film is about human beings reaching for connection. About how we build identity from stories, symbols, teams, traditions—anything that helps us feel part of something larger than ourselves.
In Japan, I saw people finding belonging in Wisconsin culture from ten-thousand miles away. And in doing so, they reminded me of something easy to forget when you grow up here: that what feels ordinary to us can be extraordinary to someone else. That a small town, a cold winter, a loyal fanbase, a way of life—these can glow across oceans.
There’s something almost comical and beautiful about it all. The universe, after all, has a strange sense of humor. You chase one dream across the sea and find another dream chasing you back.
And that’s why bringing this film to Manitowoc feels important. This isn’t a story about “them.” It’s a story about “us,” reflected in an unexpected mirror. It’s an invitation to see our own culture, our own communities, our own rituals through fresh eyes—and maybe to realize we’re more interesting than we give ourselves credit for.
When you come to the screening—taking place on Saturday, April 11, from noon until 2 PM in Manitowoc Public Library’s Balkansky Community Room—you’ll see laughter, obsession, devotion, friendship, and the quiet tenderness of people who simply want to belong. You may come for the Packers. But, you’ll leave thinking about something much larger—the strange, invisible threads tying strangers together across the world.
I dreamed of Japan. I went there. And in Japan, I found people dreaming of home.
Sometimes the world is wide. Sometimes it’s small. Most days, it’s both at once.
And that, I think, is worth celebrating.
