Cauz: There is always family time for the Grey Cup

I already know that my fondest memory of the 103rd Grey Cup will have almost nothing to do with what happened on the field. It will be about watching the game in my dad’s basement with my twin brother and one of my older brothers. When you get older, day-to-day life responsibilities make it harder to get together with family as often as you would like. The flexibility you had in your 20’s disappears and is replaced with wives, husbands, children, taxes, mortgages and that now all important 4:30pm nap. My dad is 82 years old and loves it whenever any of his children drop by for a visit to his home which is about 40 minutes north of Toronto.

We see each other for holidays or for weddings and unfortunately for funerals but it’s difficult to get a bunch of family members together in the same room on a random Sunday night. What makes that game so special is that it often can act as a catalyst in bringing family together. (Alright, I promise that last sentence will be the only time this article will resemble some sort of sappy Hallmark commercial!)

In my case we could not have been more stereotypical. My dad spent about 30 hours brewing up his home made chili in the sort of pot that could have been used by the three witches in Macbeth. My oldest brother was the first to arrive and was dismayed to learn we would not be eating until about an hour before kickoff. The man has a voracious appetite and despite being in good shape I have never heard him say “no” to seconds. Let me put this way, he buttered a large slab of bread with a spoon because he was too hungry to wait for a knife to be placed on the table.

Some of the highlights from that night include hearing my father talk about the first Grey Cup he went to. It was in 1944 between the St. Hyacinthe–Donnacona Navy (no, they were not a failed American expansion team) and the Hamilton Flying Wildcats. The game was played at Hamilton’s Civic Centre… later to be named Ivor Wynne Stadium… later to be named Tim Hortons Field.

My dad was playing on the street with a friend on that Saturday (yes the Grey Cup was on a Saturday back then) when his buddy’s mom asked my father if he would like to go to a football game. As the internet, video on demand or the iPad Air had yet to be invented, my dad quickly said yes and armed with a 50 cent ticket he witnessed the Navy team defeat Hamilton 7-6. I believe if Henry Burris had been used earlier in the game the Flying Wildcats would have scored more than six points but who am I second guess the coaches?

I had to spend a great deal of the 103rd Grey Cup game explaining who certain players were and why Ottawa is called the “REDBLACKS”. My brothers have five children between them so I didn’t blame them for not knowing who Derel Walker is or why seeing J.C. Sherritt missing a tackle was such a rare occurrence. Again, this is the Grey Cup as long as people get a chance to be together and celebrate this quasi Canadian holiday than I don’t really care what their knowledge level is.

Of course, what would watching the game be without high stakes gambling? Our high rollers pool had a grand jackpot of $40 and went to my twin brother who picked “Edmonton even”. He plans on spending most of the money paying off his mortgage and will throw the rest towards his kids’ University fund. I spent most of the game planted on my dad’s recliner because his cat “Dickie” was firmly planted on my lap and refused to leave.

I know that none of these moments are in any way grandiose and as far as Grey Cup parties go this one was fairly tame, but sitting around my dad’s table eating chili talking about what was going on in our respective lives and explaining why Edmonton was going to win was my favourite moment from the Grey Cup.

As for the game itself, well the best thing you can say about it was that it was close right to the end. Most people, including myself, believed Edmonton would pull away late in the third quarter and would win by double digits. Instead Ottawa roared out to a 13-0 lead and it wasn’t until late in fourth quarter after a short Jordan Lynch touchdown run that Edmonton would have a lead of more than one point.

Aesthetically it wasn’t the best Grey Cup, especially in the second half when only one touchdown was scored. Just like in every other sport the championship game isn’t always the best one, hey it happens.

Credit Edmonton’s defence for completely shutting down Ottawa’s aerial attack. That unit turned the league MOP into a dink and dunker after the team’s first two drives as the Eskimos took away any semblance of a downfield passing game forcing Burris to constantly hit William Powell on check downs.

As for Mike Reilly, he didn’t panic when his team quickly fell behind 13-0 before most people had even settled in to watch the game. The scary thing for the rest of the league is that Reilly is only going to get better and has more than enough weapons surrounding him to make him a perennial MOP contender for the next decade. I enjoyed the game but no game can be considered a “classic” when the biggest play is a coach (in this case Chris Jones) deciding to challenge an obvious pass interference penalty.

As I drove home from my father’s on one of those dark, tree lined, two lane roads I was happy to witness the best team in the league rightfully win the championship but I was happier to be able to spend the evening with family.

How long before training camp?