Previously unpublished. This was originally written on December 10th, 2021.
I read a post recently inspired by Thích Nhất Hạnh – a Vietnamese Thein Buddhist monk – titled ‘What’s in Your Cup’. It was game day for my U15 girls Hawks and some of them had been struggling with the adversity that sport challenges us with. I had this to say to them:
‘If I am holding a cup of coffee and someone bumps into me, why did I spill the coffee? Because that is what was in my cup. Whatever is in your cup is what will spill out. If you bring the weight of all of your outside problems into battle with you, when someone bumps you even by coincidence, that’s what is going to spill out.’
From the moment my eyes met the dawn of Grey Cup Sunday, my cup was filled with calm serenity. Like you, I held hopeful anticipation of what it would be like to walk home champions that cold December night – cheering through the seasonal lighting of my neighbourhood. The thought of it had my heart racing for the last 20 minutes of the game.
I stayed back for a while after that heartbreaking overtime interception and absorbed the energy of victory both on the faces of my new friends from Edmonton and Winnipeg, and in the embrace of family, teammates, and coaches down the field on the big screen.
I was devastated by the outcome but sport as a youth taught me to look over at a good friend celebrating a Super Saturday win and to see the delight in witnessing others realizing their dreams.
Seeing the quick and silent exit of fans reminded me of when the New England Patriots lost Super Bowl 42. I was at The Fours in downtown Beantown watching a great game to cap off a season that was under two minutes from being literally perfect – until it wasn’t; until the fans cleared the streets in droves past law enforcement on every corner anticipating chaos. From the morning news to the Patriots store in Foxborough, televisions everywhere focused on defeat.
I titled that piece The Road to Perfection, which was about the stories that are meant to be like Payton Manning hugging his little brother after the game and saying ‘I love you, man’. I still well up typing that.
Tim Horton’s field looked much the same post game but I wasn’t ready to leave. I still loved a good celebration and hey, the Grey Cup was only 110 yards from where I was standing and I had never been present for its presentation. It wasn’t the story I had anticipated once again but I have grown to love finding the joy in imperfection.
I was so busy admiring how beautiful Tim Horton’s Field and the surrounding area looked on this day, talking with my new friends from around Canada, and enjoying this time with my wife and my family, that the game was just where the lights were shining.
The image on the right is a family we met before the game. I said if we lost, I would pose for this photo.
This was the first major event I had been to since COVID began and most of all, I had missed this place – the roar and laughter: the sea of black and gold, and the creative ways we dress. The high fives, the Oskee Wee Wees, and Argo’s suck even after the Bomber’s just beat us in the Grey Cup. This was the story I needed most.
Nothing in life is guaranteed but if you look beyond the game – in the heart of what really makes these moments special, it isn’t about the battle before you, but the love we all bring to the moment.