See the grey-haired, gooey-eyed teenager on the right? That’s my husband Andrew blushing like a school girl in the presence of Toronto Argonaut Quarterback and Grey Cup Champion, Ricky Ray.
For you American gals without “Argo Awareness” as a clause in your marriage contract, here are some cross-border football equivalents, as offered by a cross-borderline Canadian fan:
CFL = NFL (ooo, ouch … sorry ardent football fans)
Grey Cup = Superbowl (not just a post-toilet cleansing observation)
Football = husband inaccessible for 4 hours, no matter what country you live in.
Andrew took me and the kids to an Argo practice last Tuesday, which, despite the heatstroke-inducing 44ºC humidex, was a pretty cool outing. For him though, it was a bucket list moment to stand on the same field as his beloved team, let alone meet the players afterward. Here are a few prom date photos of Andrew and the boys (oh yeah, plus his kids). Doesn’t he look stunning in his double-blue jersey and football boutineer?:
Here he is again, two-timing Ricky with Argo receiver and kick returner, Chad Owens (again with those darn kids!…)
I’m completely onboard with the Argos now, 21 years in, not just because
I have to they’re Toronto’s only winning sports franchise besides the ’92/’93 Blue Jays World Series Champions (thanks Google), but seeing the joy on that man’s face just makes me happy. Besides, I could be dealing with worse male-midlife distractions, so it’s all good.
At least the team offers some pretty amazing role models. At the risk of sounding like Grandma Moses, the Argonauts really are “such lovely boys”. We were the only fans at the practice that day, and everyone was so welcoming and polite, graciously posing for pictures and signing autographs, even General Manager Jim Barker:
I even heard one player reprimand his teammate for his colourful language, saying “come on guys, there’re children here!” Good on ya’ man. Though I have to say, if I were doing medicine ball-passing drills in the blinding heat, I’d have dropped to the ground with a few potty-mouth-bombs myself, I’m quite sure.
Anyway, thanks so much for the great afternoon Argos … or as Andrew would be proud to hear me say, “AAAAARRRRR—-GGGOOOOOOOOOOOS!” (Too much, right?)