We almost broke a vase in ‘89. What’s a Rider win bring this year?
SkyDome Stadium. Toronto, Ontario. 1989.
Three seconds left on the clock. The best foot in the league — maybe in CFL history — takes those last steps toward greatness. You could hear the entire province of Saskatchewan holding its breath, even from 2,200 kilometers away.
My friends and I huddled around a 30-inch color TV that weighed more than a calf in spring. We looked like a gaggle of grandmas clutching pearls in church after hearing a rock song during worship. Instead of hymnals, we had half-empty cans of Lucky Lager pilfered from Dad’s stash and a bag of Hawkins Cheezies.
We were this close to witnessing something we’d never seen: the Saskatchewan Roughriders winning a Grey Cup in our lifetimes. We were 16 years old and Saskatchewan football had been a lesson in patience.
The drought was so bad, someone wrote a rap song called “Eleven Years Is Enough.” Taylor Field attendance was so sparse back then, you could show up in the second quarter without a ticket and claim an entire bench.
From now on, things were going to be different.
Safety and kick holder Glen Suitor — cool as a curling skip — leaned in and gave “Robokicker” Dave Ridgeway a smack on the shoulder. Ridgeway’s eyes were locked in, somewhere between mental break and meditation. He’d hit tougher kicks than this; hundreds of them; most of them consecutively.
Snap. Hold. Kick.
BOOM.
That game-winning field goal sent the Riders past the Hamilton Tiger-Cats by three, and it sent us into pandemonium. Tom shot up out of his chair so fast he broke the springs and fell right through the cushion. Jason — for reasons known only to teenage adrenaline — grabbed the living room curtain and shoved it in his mouth while screaming. I jumped off the couch with such force I shook the floor. A ceramic vase fell and rattled on the top shelf of the television cabinet.
We all froze. It wasn’t broken.
The celebration resumed with twice the volume.
Newly licensed and squeaking with pride, we piled into “Bessie,” my dad’s dusty silver work van that smelled like grease and sewer. We ripped through town, honking, hollering, waving an old metal milk can out the window like it was the real Grey Cup. A couple of guys even climbed onto the roof with it — until Saskatchewan’s icy streets sent them sliding back inside after only one block.
Fast-forward more than 35 years, and here we are again. The Roughriders are back in the Dance. And wouldn’t you know it, it’s the Montreal Alouettes again — the same villains who stole our dreams on that infamous night in 2009. That night when “The 13th Man” became something you couldn’t say without someone offering to fight you behind the Legion.
But don’t let that fool you — the Riders are owed one. They cruised into the playoffs this year like they were driving a half-ton in cruise on the highway to Missinipe.
All that being said….
It’ll be the Als by six.
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