The Good, the bad, and the Ugly v2.0

Once before, I used Clint Eastwood's iconic Spaghetti Western, "The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly" as a theme for a post, so I guess it's appropriate to label this as v2.0 or the sequel. As I write this, the dusty recollection of the theme song bubbles up from my Hippocampus, it's memorable shrill whistle and waa waa immediately taking me back to my youth. The entire thing surrounds a mostly wonderful road trip to Kingston recently, and while the overall grade was a stellar 98%, that nagging 2% still takes a wee bit of the shine off thanks largely to the frustrations created by the folks in the Big Smoke.

This past winter, I was approached by an old Queen's team mate to consider becoming an Era Captain to assist the new head coach, Steve Snyder, in establishing a more significant connection between football alumni and the present program. The idea was to be the funnel that information would stream through from coach Snyder to what would hopefully be a wider audience about initiatives, programs and events with the goal to bring the past closer to the future, allowing his 2021 players to enjoy the benefits that alumni could bring. At the same time, coach Snyder was spearheading the organization of the 2021 Queen's Football Hall of Fame dinner after a Covid induced delay from it's scheduled 2020 timeline, and I was honoured to be invited to become a part of the selection committee.

Following the theme, this would be considered GOOD!

A consequence of this enhanced commitment to my alma mater, I immediately felt a strong connection to coach Snyder's dreams for my beloved Gaels, making the urge to take in the live action almost unescapable. After a failed attempt for the Gaels visit to U of T's Varsity stadium, I convinced Joyce that a road trip to Kingston was needed, and after tickets were purchased, I was happier that fat kid at an all-you-can-eat buffet. 

This would also be considered GOOD!

As the departure loomed, my mood soured slightly as the weather forecast signalled the building of an ark, with predictions of 100% chance of 25-40 mm of rain at game time. For the record, I dearly LOVE my Gaels, but that was a bit dour, even for me. Holding off to make the final decision until 9:00 am on the day of the game, the subtle shifts in the forecast begged for a YES, and we eagerly set off, back to our old digs. For those that don't know, or may have forgotten, Joyce and I met in Kingston while working together at the then named Firehall Restaurant, and once the spark of romance was ignited, lived together for a few years in our beloved limestone city. Thankfully, as the relatively painless drive ticked off the km's, the horizon seemed to be lightening, and with it, our fears of getting drenched. 

Again, this is GOOD!

Just passing Napanee on the 401, the heavens opened and a biblically proportioned deluge ensued, and a scan of the horizon showed dark and angry for as far as our eyes could see. Like troopers, we steeled ourselves to the possibility with a nervous giggle and a shrug, silently offering prayers for a break in the inevitable. Pulling off the highway and heading south toward the stadium, we were delighted to see some hopeful streaks of sunshine peeking through the canopy. Since we were an hour early and bathroom facilities were paramount with our morning coffees fully transitioned through our systems, we chose to brave a quick bite at a local Harvey's, something very out of character for us! We do not choose Fast Food very often, and it is almost never burgers and fries, but hunger and bladder pressure won out, so a couple of original combos please and thank you!

This would fall under BAD!

Bladders vacated, belly rumbles silenced, we arrived at Richardson Stadium, parked the RAV, and were basked in several golden beams of sunlight as the clouds dissipated in a Moses-inspired parting around that portion of the city. After the vaccine protocols, the ticket checking and finding our seats, I was grinning like a Cheshire Cat at the prospect of the game proceeding in favourable weather. The new Richardson in no, way, shape, or form resembled the old Richardson of my memory! If you haven't seen it live, you're missing out. This is a state-of-the-art facility that must be the envy of many universities in the OUA, and since my former team mates and I had assisted with the fund raising for it, I felt a little pang of pride at how it turned out. The fortunate dissipation of the clouds continued throughout the game, at times bathing the stadium in brilliant sunshine, making the iconic yellow jerseys pop with colour. 

Just to be clear, this would all be GOOD!

The game turned out to be a fan-friendly affair when, after a slow 1st quarter, my Gaels exploded on route to a 45-0 rout of a floundering Carleton, but the nature of the scoring was easily one of the queerest affairs I have ever been witnessed. The 45 points included 4 safeties (2 points each), 3 field goals (3 points each), and some spectacular defensive execution leaving Carleton shooting blanks all game. As the clocked inevitably counted down, I yearned for the defence to be rewarded for their Heculanean efforts by notching their own score, and as LB #54 provided their 4th interception and lumbered toward the end zone, I raised out of my seat in anticipation. Unfortunately, the young man couldn't get the piano off his back and was caught on the 3 yard line, leading to one of the easiest TD's that star running back Rasheed Tucker would ever be gifted. In the end, while elated with the outcome, both Joyce and I felt for the Carleton player's obvious frustrations over their lack of execution.

Most definitely GOOD, but the lack of bums in seats despite Homecoming Weekend was BAD.

A fringe benefit of a career in education is the networking that takes place with people from all corners of the province, so once the roadie plans were firm, I reached out to an old friend with an offer to commiserate after the game. I was thrilled when the reply was YES, and we set off for the Loyal Oarsman Pub to meet Dale Huddleston, the unofficial mayor of Kingston, to reconnect, reminisce, and laugh our way through the evening. Dale is salt of the earth, knows a million people, is one of the kindest / compassionate / friendliest people I know, and is just plain fun to share a drink + meal with. Between smiles, belly laughs, and stories, we enjoyed some pretty tasty pub-style offerings, and were delighted to be joined by Dale's son, Jeff, a Kingston police officer, who shared his dealings with the hoard of homecoming revellers that were making a mess of the Queen's student ghetto ... again.

Despite the frustrations surrounding the students, the night was most definitely GOOD!

As with all great events, the end was inevitable, so following a restful night at a local hotel, we grabbed a Tim's for a memory-prodding stroll around the Kingston downtown and Queen's campus. We were amazed at how much still remained, stalwarts of our years from over 30 years ago, and were in awe of the incredible limestone architecture throughout, sharing dozens of stories that were percolating up from deep inside our brains. We visited old workplaces, old halls of study, old neighbourhoods, and thoroughly enjoyed a relatively tepid October morning. Of course, the talks certainly included the potential of a return to the Limestone City in our futures, but it's all just air, at least at this point. It's not a NO, more like a NOT YET.

Since this is easily GOOD ... Where's the UGLY?

The drive home was definitely not on par with the weekend's brilliance! Since we decided that retirement afforded us the opportunity to brave the 401 all the way back to Guelph by eschewing the lure of the costly 418/407, we shrugged off the first traffic jam just outside of Oshawa that, once cleared, looked to be the only issue of the trip. Unfortunately, we should have known better and the 2 hour stop-n-go across the Big Smoke was the consequence. Easily the most frustrating thing that almost all can empathize with was the fact that when we finally arrived at the source of the congestion, it was nothing more that a cruiser with flashing lights signalling a single lane merge. Toronto drivers are curious, that's for sure! After finally relenting to our frustrations, we took the senile route home for the final 30 km, and arriving at the condo, were dismayed that the normal 3.5 hour trip had taken 5.5 hours all in. 

Absolutely and frustratingly UGLY!

Ah well, as I said, 98% great, and who wouldn't take a 98%?