My neighbours across the street, who we have since coined “The Rider Fans” began wearing their Rider shirts for game day. It’s a tradition they still have and now include their two little children. They are much bigger supporters of Tim Horton’s than myself and coming home with a round of Double Double’s work for them but just doesn’t have the same impact for us. Rider fans aren’t just a little ‘stitious…..we’re SUPERstitious.
At the grocery store people began to wear their green and white proudly. We’d talk to each other…..”Nice jersey” “Thanks” “Where’d you get it?” It was just the beginning of a new kind of gang where Next Year Country was becoming This Year Country. It’s not uncommon to see people in Rider garb along with decorated businesses, car flags and license plates. We began to wear our hearts on our sleeves and indeed prove that pride does live here.
My neighbourhood is usually quiet. People stick to themselves except for the slight neighbourly hello from across the street. On this Labour Day we were all tucked into our houses in wild anticipation of what the Classic would bring. I don’t remember much of the game, to be honest. I remember we did have a knack for pulling out a win in the last minutes…..seconds of any given game and that’s exactly what happened when then quarterback Kerry Joseph ran the ball in for the winning touchdown.
Afterwards we headed out into the yard to give our lilac bush a hair cut. Everyone else was spilling out into their yards and street. Lawn mowers started, cars drove away and down the street a little boy tossed a football to an adult. “Do you like football?” he asked. Yes, indeed we liked football. It connected us all if only for a time or moment.