◄ Continued fromon FB5

That was why I found it hard to be depressed when, upon graduating from McMaster University with Honours, I was faced with the harsh reality that the only job I could get, was pumping gas.

   At the same time, the Tiger-Cats were having their worst season ever. Ownership had simply run out of money, and our fates seemed intertwined again. I was lost and so was my team, but being lost didn’t seem so bad when  you weren’t alone.

   I continued to believe in the long shot. The underdog. The million-to-one chance. Both for me, and for my team. I had to.

   Which brings me to July 2004.  To paraphrase Dickens, ‘The best of times, and the worst of times.’

   The Cats were purchased by Bob Young, and things began to change. Meanwhile, I was about to be married and start graduate school, and my life too was changing. In both cases, no one was really sure what the future would bring.

   For me, it brought relocation to Victoria, BC and the biggest challenges of my life. That story is better left for another time, but suffice to say, everything up to that point in time had simply been preparation.

   For the Tiger-Cats, the changes were similarly sweeping, and their challenges equally as daunting. But from my vantage point, one thing changed that was a clear break from the past. When the lights came on and crowds filed in to Ivor Wynne that July, someone else was in my seat.

   I watched the Labour Day Game that year – a choppy, jury-rigged, web cast – from a lonely concrete residence room in Victoria. It was the first Labour Day game, and one of the few home games overall, that I had missed in my entire adult life.

   I have not been back to Ivor Wynne since. I have struggled, succeeded and failed for the past four years — just as the Tiger-Cats have, but I have done so without the connection that taught me so much. The reminder of why I have to keep the faith; even without something that has been very  meaningful to me.

   I haven’t smelled the air under the north stands, or felt the sun hit my

face as I climbed the steps up to my seat. Nor have I heard the roar of the crowd during the player introductions. I haven’t shared the suspense, the heartbreak, and the rare glory with the other fans. I haven’t looked past the scoreboard towards a perfect sunset as the final minutes of a game ticked away.

   The memories I have are strong, but memory without reminder always fades. I fear the day I will begin to forget what I’ve learned. To drift. To become something else. But everyone has to come home sometime; everyone has to find their way eventually.

   I believe that the Tiger-Cats, after many changes and challenges over the past few years, are finding their way home. There are so many reasons to stand by this team, and I feel it in my heart, that they will justify the faith that so many of us have had in them over the years.

   I believe that you can come home again; even if home means a different team, with different players. Some things and people come and go, but there is so much more to ‘home’ than the product on the field.

   I believe my story and the Tiger-Cats’ story are in many ways, one in the same, and that what I have lost – my connection to the dream that is this team – can only be found in one place.

   And so, I’m coming home too.

   On Monday, thanks to a partner who understands that my identity and my culture are defined by the word “Hamilton”, I will walk through the gates of Ivor Wynne for the first time in many years. I’ll probably fall to my knees and kiss the concrete. Then, when I can, I’ll walk up the stairs to Box J and only then, will I be home.

   I won’t be the same person I was when I left in July of 2004, but that’s okay. I was hardly the scared boy then, that I was so many years before.

   What matters is not what I have done, but what I will do; not who I am, but what I stand for. For the Tiger-Cats, it’s the same, and I have faith in this team. As I did before; as I will tomorrow.

   To anyone who has drifted away over the years, I can only tell you that nothing is worse than having the

choice removed from you. My ticket still remained, but I was gone, and I

could not support the team because my life led me down a different path.

   On Monday night however, I’ll do everything I can to express how a very important part of me, never really left.

   I’ll be animated in my support; even if the going is rough. Just like the players will give everything they have; the score be damned.

   Will you do the same? You who have the choice, week after week, to renew your faith or let it fall. Will you choose to come home again? If you do, I’ll see you there, and a heck of a homecoming party we’ll have.

   Eat ‘em raw, my friends.