On Monday morning, in the aftermath of their Grey Cup loss, I was pondering my immigration to the Rider Nation. I was born and raised in Alberta. I followed the Calgary Stampeders back in the Norman Kwong and Vic Washington days. I would lie in bed with a radio under the covers and listen, quietly cheering my heroes on.
I went to Mewata Stadium, sat in the end zone seats, pushed two drink cups together to make a football and played on the edge of the field at half time. I learned the worst words in football were Ron Lancaster and George Reed.
When my family moved to Edmonton, after a couple of years I became an Eskimos fan, attended a few games, listened to many on the radio, watched some on television and confirmed the worst words in football were Ron Lancaster and George Reed.
All through the ‘bad old days’ of the late 1960s, with Neil Armstrong behind the bench I remained true. In fact I either heard or saw every game for about five years. Ron Lancaster, George Reed and Gainer the Gopher were the worst words in football.
When I moved to Vancouver I stayed faithful, I bought seasons tickets to the B.C. Lions but in my heart it was Eskies all the way. When I returned to Edmonton 30 years later, I was overjoyed to be in the hometown of my football club, but I met a Regina girl. On our second date she gave me a Saskatchewan Roughriders’ T-shirt and made me put it on. I was sure she was serious.
After dating for a time, she had gently cajoled me into cheering for the Riders when they played anyone but Edmonton. I now owned a couple of Riders’ baseball caps, some T-shirts and a nice Riders’ fall jacket. Once she brought home tickets to an Esks-Riders game from work; it was a pleasant evening spent teasing each other about the other’s choice in football teams. When we married, she confessed to being part of the ‘Rowdy Gang’ in her youth. While downplaying ‘the gang’ as just a fun loving group of Riders’ fans, she did admit to dancing in a Conga line on an Air Canada flight at about 25,000 ft. on the way to a Grey Cup in Toronto. She also admitted to being part of that same gang when they would regularly load a hot tub on a flat bed and drive to Minot, N.D. on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon during football season. Still I thought Gainer was even a worse word than either Lancaster or Reed. But the heat was about to be turned up.
The meals got better and so did other things. Saskatchewan football began showing up regularly on our TV along with outstanding snacks to make the experience more pleasant. And then once we watched an Eskimos game with a sort of dry, tasteless bread without butter or topping of any kind. She made no comments about that day but the next weekend there were the Riders, along with a wonderful assortment nibblies.
In time, without noticing, I became a Riders fan. I think there is a high school credit course in Saskatchewan on converting the rest of Canada into green and white fanatics. When I asked her that very question, she smiled and told me she was an honours student.
Of course maybe it’s just me.
Andy Michaelson is a St. Albert poet.
