Football versus Football

The driving snow of the Vanier Cup final yesterday brought back so many memories of my childhood.  I could literally feel the numbing cold of the bleachers in which we sat at Lansdowne Park watching the Ottawa Rough Riders play.  My dear uncle, Elgin, used to take all four of us young cousins to games when we were pretty small.

I hadn't a clue about what we were watching, but the atmosphere is forever seared into memory.  The wind, the cold, the hard seats, the freezing feet, the frigid hands, the snow, the dripping nose..........did my mother not dress me properly?  Back in those days, we didn't have $500 fleece jackets, $100 padded gloves and $300 fancy boots.  We had woolen mitts, duffle coats with hoods and flimsy scarves.  Our boots were pretty primitive too, but there we gamely sat through four gruelling quarters of Frank Claire football.

It all comes freezingly back as today's Grey Cup game approaches.  Being played in Regina -- Canada's capital of 'freezing' -- the game and sitting in those stands is the last place I'd want to be, but I will certainly watch it on TV.  Compared to the hype of the Superbowl, Canada's east-west final is pretty tame and decidedly low-key.  Heck, anything is tame compared to the American version of our final.  That's what I mean about "football versus football".  Still, Grey Cup Sunday in Canada is huge; so is the Stanley Cup.  Regardless of the fact that the NHL has been taken over by the Americans and is run by a guy who probably can't even skate, hockey also remains  fiercely "Canadian".  Watching pre-game coverage yesterday from Regina, Grey Cup is even huge-er there.  No fans are more diehard or dedicated than the Regina variety.  Ditto for gritty Steeltown's.     

I remember as a child the neighbours gathering at our place for a big party.  Relatively temperate, my parents and their friends would toss this virtue for Grey Cup Sunday.  Beer, rye, gin, snacks and cigarettes are what I remember best.  My parents didn't smoke, but everyone else did and my father always put out a hospitable cigarette dish.  In between parties, he used to keep it in a drawer with a damp paper towel taped to the underside of the cover to maintain freshness.  How weird it seems now?  As for wine, no one drank it, too wimpy for Grey Cup.  Some folks were from the West, others from the East, so cheering was wild regardless of who won what play.

I cannot think of Grey Cup without remembering my parents, my friends in Lindenlea, their parents and the wonderful childhood I had.  Absolutely superb.