I may have one of these records at 8170 miles from the stadium (New Zealand), and may have had the closest at another point .297 (Charleston St. in the Russian/North Bottoms). I used to love being that close to the stadium, because we could put the TV outside on game days and listen to the stadium during the games (when we didn't have tickets, or when we hawked them for beer money). The only bad thing about living there was they changed the side of the street you could park on 6 days/year -- gamedays. And the tow-trucks would be lined up on the street and if your car was on the wrong side at precisely 8 a.m., it was going to impound. Bastards!
And the other thing that made Charleston St. great was Crazy Sharon. She was our 70-year-old-pot-smoking-paper-lady who didn't wear any other color than purple - she looked like an emaciated Grimace (you know, the McDonalds character?). There were six days a year that she would wear a color other than Purple -- also, gamedays. She would put on a red husker jacket until she had sold the parking spaces and front lawn of her house every gameday, and as soon as the last spot was sold she would peel that non-purple-coat off like it was a disease! Good times... good times.
BTW, my first post. I have been lurking in the shadows on this board for the past few years, and lord knows why I chose this as my first thread, but hopefully I haven't bored the socks off of anyone! Thanks for allowing me my walk down memory lane.