The 112th CFL Grey Cup logo adorns midfield at Winnipeg’s Princess Auto Stadium.
I grew up in a suburb of Detroit, MI, and – as such – benefitted from the ability to occasionally tune into Windsor, Ontario, television Channel 9, CBET.
It was, essentially, the same as the National Football League, but radically different all at the same time. There are 12 players on offense and defense, forward motion is allowed prior to the snap of the ball, the field includes a Center/55-yard-line meaning it’s 10-yards longer than the NFL, the goal posts sit on the goal line, the endzone is 20 yards deep instead of the 10 in the NFL, and the field is nearly 12 yards wider than an NFL field, the ability to score single points (aka rouges), and – oh yeah – the offense has only three downs to achieve a first down (e.g. failure to gain 10 yards in two downs usually led to a punt).
It was good fun to tune in on occasion, witness the exotic rules by which it operated, and swap stories about the legend of Dieter Brock and others with my neighbor Jim from down the street whenever a game of side yard football would break out on Junior Street.
So when I began charting my course for Around the World in 80 Sporting Events, the CFL Grey Cup (the league’s annual championship game) was not high atop it, but after tuning in to the 2024 final, won by the Argonauts over the Blue Bombers (41-24), it moved up … way up.
And when I found a willing travel partner in my friend Wayne, well, it was settled.
We planned to be in the Winnipeg’s Princess Auto Stadium on Sunday, November 16, to see the CFL equivalent of the NFL’s Super Bowl … the 112th CFL Grey Cup.
The Journey North
It was a gorgeous day to travel from Fargo into Manitoba. (Photo by Wayne Wilson)
As noted in Event No. 31 (Where the Bison Run Free), flying from Detroit to Winnipeg and then staying in Winnipeg during Grey Cup weekend, was cost prohibitive.
That said, Wayne and I put on our cartography hats and began searching for relatively nearby that we could travel to and then drive to Winnipeg.
Fargo, ND, came back the hands down winner in terms of cost (under $300 round trip) and proximity (under three hours drive time), and a bonus event that was most assuredly not on my original list of 80 – a North Dakota State Bison home football game in the Fargodome!
So Sunday morning, following the Bison’s shellacking of the University of Northern Iowa, 48-16, Wayne and I climbed in our rental and began the journey straight up Interstate 29.
When I say there was not much to see along the way, I really mean there was not much to see along the way.
Once we passed Grand Forks, home to the University of North Dakota, it was pretty much prarie and farmland for as far as the eye could see.
It did dawn on me though – about halfway into our journey – that this plan to fly into Fargo and drive to Winnipeg could have gone sideways in a hurry had an early-season blizzard descended upon this part of the country. As with many highways throughout the Great Plains, I-29 featured gates on nearly every entrance ramp and even a few on the highway proper, to close it down in the event of unsafe traveling conditions.
Fortunately for us, we had bright sun and cloudless skies for our journey into Manitoba.
Speaking of Manitoba, shortly after we crossed the border near the community of West Lynne, MB, I spotted what appeared to be a Manitoba Welcome Center. To my eyes, at least, it appeared closed as no cars appeared out front, though upon circling the facility we found one in the back.
Wayne agreed to run in and see if it was open. He sent word that it was and ambled in.
Greg, the elder of two employees who were manning the operation, was delighted to engage us in conversation, give us his tips on Winnipeg, and who his favorite CFL team was (the Blue Bombers, naturally). He did let us know, however, that – unlike the American Super Bowl that prices many out of attending – we’d likely see fans of all nine teams and maybe even a few fans of the Baltimore Stallions (the only non-Canadian team to ever win the Grey Cup in 1995) who still make the annual pilgrimage to the event.
Before we parted ways, Greg handed us several pins (Canada, Manitoba, and Churchill, [home to the polar bears]) and even tossed in a custom-made key chain that Greg told us he fashions himself and wished us a safe journey.
The Forks
Clockwise from upper left, the we were gifted a sample of the cold lemon-pepper pickerel bites from Fergies Fish & Chips were delightful in the Market’s food hall; I did not return home with this fox hat; table tennis was an option for visitors off the food hall; the park offered terrific views of the Canadian National stage, museum, and Winnipeg sign; speaking of which, I am in this photo, though difficult to see; a look across the Red River at the grounds of Saint Boniface Cathedral.
We didn’t have much time to see central Winnipeg, but the handful of people I’d talked to who had visited prior, suggested a stop at The Forks as a sort of quick-hitter.
With limited time, we realized a worthwhile tour of the museum was out, so we focused our efforts on the park area and the market.
Though an overcast and generally grey day (I wonder why!?!) it was not terribly difficult to see how the park area would be lively in the summer months (and, presumably, winter too). It offered views of the Red River, plenty of pathways, and open spaces for picnics and the like.
The Forks Market was, primarily, food-based, with purveyors encircling a dining area to create a thriving food hall. As we peered into Fergies Fish & Chips display case, one of the employees graciously provided us with samples of the cold lemon-pepper pickerel bites: Delish! There were a handful of shops as well, but Wayne and I weren’t on the lookout for exotic fur hats, sundries, or any new books so it was a quick stroll through those areas.
Princess Auto Stadium
The exterior of Princess Auto Stadium in Winnipeg.
While the campus was quiet when we arrived a few hours before what we thought was kickoff (5 p.m. CST), the area surrounding the stadium was hopping.
And, as our man Greg at the visitor’s center predicted, it didn’t take long to spot the colors of all nine CFL teams in the crowd as we queued up to get into the official tailgate area.
That’s when we really experienced the largese of the crowd.
As we stood shoulder-to-shoulder with a crush of people listening to a band we were unfamiliar with, we quickly abandoned the idea of those promised inexpensive drinks and hot dogs and began working our way to the upper level and the entry gates.
Clockwise from upper left, the entrance gate into Princess Auto Stadium; various views of the crowd at within the official CFL Tailgate area … and a selfie while waiting in line.
Countdown to Kickoff
We were in the upper reaches of Princess Auto Stadium which seats 32,343. I’m happy to report there were a few seats behind us … but not many.
As is, seemingly, the case with any major standalone event such as this, there was a pre-game on-field concert; this time by the Canadian band, Our Lady Peace (I was unfamiliar with the setlist). Likewise, there were plenty of dignataries introduced and, because Canadian sports leagues hold their trophies in high regard (see the NHL’s Stanley Cup, sports’ oldest trophy), a pair of Canadian Mounties stood sentry near a goal line with the Grey Cup (sports’ second oldest trophy).
Beyond that, and – of course – a ceremonial coin flip featuring Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney (who, as is a global phenomenon apparently, was booed), there was a flyover featuring the Royal Canadian Air Force’s CF-18 fighters (which we could not see due to the stadium’s overhang), the run up to kickoff was not unlike the many other football games I’ve attended.
Some of the sites during pregame inside Princess Auto Stadium. From left, a Montreal Alouettes fan was ready for action as was this Saskatchewan Roughriders supporter; onfield fireworks highlighted the pregame introductions; and I discovered this jersey was not an homage to me, but rather for Winnipeg Blue Bomber linebacker, Adam Bighill.
Manitoba country music singer, Catie St. Germain, performs “O Canada” prior to kickoff.
The Game
Like I noted at the top, once the game began, it was not unlike the many other football games I’ve seen through the years … except I got to witness a rouge/single when Sakatchewan punter Jesse Mirco‘s 69-yard boomer was not returned, continued to marvel at the forward motion on a field that was both wider and longer than those found in the States, and had to keep reminding myself that second down acts like third down in America, which – combined with the other differences – makes for a more free-wheeling style of football.
Wayne and I were rooting for the Roughriders.
Similar to the NFL’s Green Bay Packers, the Roughriders are community-owned, that is, by community members and fans who are shareholders. Widely considered one of the most financially successful and stable CFL franchises, it was hard not to rally behind the ‘Riders.
About a 6-hour drive along the Trans-Canada Highway from Regina to Winnipeg, there was a strong presence in Princess Auto Stadium’s stands for Saskatchewan as well.
And if that wasn’t enough reason to get on board the Roughrider bandwagon, this was the franchise’s 20th appearance in the Grey Cup. It had only won four of the previous 19.
I’m pleased to report our team won.
After Montreal took a 7-1 lead near the end of the first quarter (remember those singles!), Saskatchewan scored the next 24 points before the Alouettes cut the deficit to 25-17 midway through the fourth quarter.
That’s the way it ended when the Roughriders’ defense stood firm on a final minute drive by Montreal that began at the Als’ own 23-yard-line with 57 seconds left and ended on a Hail Mary attempt from the Saskatchewan 53-yard-line as time expired.
Clockwise from upper left, the Roughriders scrimmage from deep inside their own territory; this Saskatchewan fan was so stoked following the win he lost his shirt; this trio who sat next to me were three generations of Roughriders’ fans and they’d attended every home game this season; the names Dieter Brock and Bud Grant on the Blue Bombers’ ring of honor brought back some memories; Wayne was splitting his attention between the action on the field and the Detroit Lions’ game in Philadelphia on his phone; the formation just before Montreal’s final play of the game.
You can imagine our general indifference when it was announced about a month prior that MGK, formerly known as Machine Gun Kelly, was scheduled to appear.
Neither Wayne nor I were familiar with his body of work nor did we devote much time in studying up beforehand. I recognized one tune, “Lonely Road,” and I dare say that was only because the hook he samples on the track (which was recorded as a duet with Jelly Roll) is John Denver‘s “Take Me Home, Country Roads.”
A portion of MGK’s “Lonely Road” during the 112th CFL Grey Cup halftime performance.
Speaking of Lonely Roads
Once we cleared the crazy post-game traffic in and around the stadium and made our way onto Manitoba Highway 75, Wayne and I enjoyed a few hours of a lonely road.
Wayne watched the Lions’ game (another in a season-filled with frustrating losses) until the stream konked out on his phone and we enjoyed – thankfully – a worry free and relatively quiet drive the remainder of the way back to Fargo.
If I don’t make it to a Super Bowl (a real possibility due to the high-cost of tickets) I’ll walk away from my Around the World in 80 Sporting Events project content that I did, in fact, experience a professional football championship game where it was accessible to fans from across the country at a price point that made it affordable for families to attend and experience the joy of seeing their team win in person, together.
This was my first full year on the road in pursuit of my Around the World in 80 Sporting Events goal of reaching 80 iconic venues and/or events by the time my biological clock hits 60 in June 2027.
As such, I saw a lot in 2025.
In total, I traveled 53,982 miles, set foot on two new continents (Asia and South America), witnessed 26 events, and spent many nights not in my own bed.
Here are my highlights from the year that’s about to have been.
Number 5 – A December Sunday at Green Bay’s Lambeau Field
Packers’ fans celebrate a score during their 28-21 victory over the rival Chicago Bears.
My final event of 2025 was just about everything I could have hoped for.
The visiting Chicago Bears and host Green Bay Packers were playing for the NFC Central Division lead, both had winning percentages of over .700 this late in the season (the first time that’s happened since December 11, 1932), the skies were clear, and the temperatures felt like single-digits by the time the late afternoon game concluded.
The fact that the game came down to the penultimate play, a Caleb Williams pass to the end zone was intercepte by Keisean Nixon sealed the Packers’ 28-21 victory.
The only things that would have made this a game 10-out-of-10 would have been that final Bears’ drive heading into the endzone we were seated in and an occasional snowflake falling to create a total commemorative snow globe moment.
All the Content from Event No. 34 Still Needs to be Created. Stay Tuned:-)
Number 4 – Lionel Messi’s (Likely) Final Competitive Home Match for Team Argentina
This sums up, perfectly, the adoration the Argentine fans have for Lionel Messi.
It’s widely assumed that the 2026 FIFA World Cup will be the final international go-round for Argentine soccer legend, Lionel Messi.
If this in fact remains true, then I’m able to say I was among the 77,000 spectators in Buenos Aires’ Estadio Mas Monumental for one of the game’s greatest of all-time’s final competitive home match when Argentina defeated Venezuela, 3-0, in CONMEBOL’s Matchday 17.
I understood next-to-nothing the public address speaker said throughout, but what I did understand the unmitigated affection that crowd had for Messi. From the standing ovation he received as he stepped off the bus in the loading dock, to his first appearance on the pitch, to the two goals he scored (and even the one that was disallowed by an offsides call), to his exit from the pitch following post-match media.
That no one in the stadium considered leaving until he was off the field is a visual I’m unsure can ever be erased from my mind.
Check Out All the Content from Event No. 24 at this link.
Number 3 – Arkansas Pitcher Gage Wood No-Hits the Murray State Racers in the MCWS
Arkansas pitcher Gage Wood celebrates a big out during his 19 strikeout no-hitter of Murray State during the Men’s College World Series in Omaha.
Like so many, I walked into Omaha’s Charles Schwab Stadium that steamy June 16 afternoon pulling hard for the Cinderella team of the Men’s College World Series, the Murray State Racers.
By the fifth inning, however, allegiances were subtly shifting.
Arkansas Razorback starting pitcher Gage Wood was DEALING! It looked like the Racers’ batters were swinging wet lasagna noodles against Wood as the strikeouts mounted.
By the seventh inning, I’m fairly certain everyone in the park knew what was happening.
That it happened was too cool for school.
Wood threw the first no-hitter in MCWS play in 65 years. His 19 strikeouts were the most in a 9-inning MCWS game … ever.
That I was there and, through the generosity of a stranger, had seats behind homeplate, is truly remarkable.
Check Out All the Content from Event No. 19 at this link.
Number 2 – Indiana Class 4A High School Sectional Final in Historic Muncie Fieldhouse
The opening tip between Greenfield-Central (white uniforms) and Mt. Vernon in the Indiana Class 4A High School Sectional Championship at Muncie Fieldhouse.
I was born and raised in Indiana and, as such, have a special fondness in my heart for high school basketball.
It was a fairly regular part of my weekly life as a youngster before my family moved to Michigan before sixth grade.
So, of the many events I planned to witness in 2025, I eagerly anticipated taking in some Indiana high school tournament basketball action. The first round is known as Sectionals in the Hoosier state and I was underwhelmed by the competitiveness I saw at the first two sites visited.
But on Saturday of Sectional Week … well I saw a gem.
I went with my cousin, Brandon, and his daughter, Calah, to see the Class 4A Sectional Final at historic Muncie Fieldhouse on a warm March evening. That there was a line to get in boded well and that the favored team, Greenfield-Central, was a among the top five teams in the state also provided optimism.
What none of us knew until the game began is who, exactly we were seeing.
Greenfield-Central’s star, Braylon Mullins, would go on to win Indiana’s coveted Mr. Basketball honor a few weeks later. He was a 5-star recruit who was destined for Storrs, CT, and the then 2-time defending NCAA Champion Connecticut Huskies. Mt. Vernon’s standout was a junior who’d already committed to Purdue named Luke Ertel.
The two duked it out all night, Mullins scored 38 and Ertel 36, but the upstarts from Mt. Vernon came away with an 83-76 double-overtime win. A thriller to be sure and a terrific way to cap off my week feasting on basketball in hoop-crazed Indiana.
Check Out All the Content from Event No. 14 at this link.
Number 1 – Witnessing the Setting Sun at the Rose Bowl on January 1
The golden hour at the 2025 Rose Bowl. What a view!
Odd, isn’t it, that I traveled nearly 54,000 miles in 2025 and my most memorable moment came on the very first day?
Never mind the football game (which The Ohio State won in a rout over Oregon), I was there for the environment, the pagentry, and the sunset.
I got it all!
The Tournament of Roses Parade shortly after dawn, the B-2 bomber flyover at the conclusion of “The Star-Spangled Banner,” the ceremonial coin flip featuring the Grand Marshal (Billie Jean King), the Goodyear blimp hovering overhead throughout, and, of course, the sunset that was appointment viewing for me during my youth and – who am I kidding?!? – adulthood.
I won’t lie, it was a long day – especially considering I participated in the Run with the Roses 5K at midnight – but it was the best day of the year by a long shot.
Check Out All the Content from Event No. 11 at this link.
The view from a soft seating area inside Fargo’s West Acres Mall.
When I realized my flight home from Fargo would depart mid-afternoon on Monday, I decided to pay a visit to the West Acres Mall.
Now, before I go on … yes, a mall. A bonafide, functional, and dang-near fully occupied mall.
I know, I was amazed as well when my traveling buddy, Wayne, and I took a lap to see what was what in this spot situated near the junction of Interstates 94 and 29. We saw only two storefronts that seemed to be between tenants. And, might I say, for a Monday late morning, it was hopping!
Though it was still 10 days before Thanksgiving, the holiday decorations were hung with care in hopes that oodles of shoppers would soon be there. And, again, on this Monday morning, quite a few were there.
But I digress.
The reason I wanted to pay a visit to West Acres was to visit one wing in particular at the southeast corner near the Best Buy store. That’s where the Roger Maris Museum was.
This sign hanging in a hallway of the West Acres Mall welcomes visitors to learn more about one of Fargo’s favorite sons.
Maris, whose birth name was Maras before his father changed the family surname in 1955, was born in Hibbing, MN, in 1934, but his family moved to Grand Forks, ND, when he was four and then on to Fargo when he was 12. He’s a graduate of Fargo’s Bishop Shanley High School.
Maris played 12 seasons in the Majors for four teams. Most notably among them, the New York Yankees, when, in 1961, he engaged in an epic season-long home run derby with fellow outfielder, Mickey Mantle. Maris wound up winning that derby and, in so doing, bested Yankee legend Babe Ruth‘s single-season MLB home run record by one, 61-60. Notably, of course, was that during Ruth’s era teams played but 154 games and in 1961 they played 162.
What I found when I made my way down by that Best Buy was small but tastefully done display that seemed to keep with both Maris’ persona and his wishes.
By all accounts he was a no-frills fella who never really wanted to be in the glaring spotlight he found himself in back in 1961. A sort of lunch pail type of player who simply wanted to play the game and head home. In fact, one of the items on display underscores Maris’ wishes for the museum.
My favorite part of the Museum was Roger’s insistence that it be “put in a place where people from all walks of life will see it, and where they won’t have to pay for it.”
Beyond the 70 or so feet of artifacts in a few showcases out in the mall’s hallway, there is also a small room that runs a video about Maris on a loop. It’s decked out with old Yankee Stadium seating and provides a lovely spot to get off your feet for a few minutes and be transported back to the 1950s and 60s.
Sadly, thieves made off with his 1960 and 1961 American League MVP Awards in a brazen middle-of-the-night break in back in July 2016. The museum curators call them out on the display of photos of said awards and plea for them to be returned to their rightful home.
And, yes, odd as it might seem to have a museum for a baseball legend in a shopping mall, it works. If you find yourself in Fargo, pay the West Acres Mall a visit. Come for the Orange Julius, stay for the Roger Maris Museum.
Clockwise from upper left, a photo of the 1960 AL MVP Award; one of two Babe Ruth Sultan of Swat crowns that are displayed; a replica of his Yankee Stadium locker; the Museum’s dedication stone; Fargo’s Roger Maris Day (June 27, 1998) Proclamation; a replica of his tribute in Yankee Stadium’s Monument Park; the centerpiece of the Museum’s display; a look inside the film room, complete with Stadium seating; all 61 of his 1961 home runs have a pennant with the date and opposing pitcher highlighted; Maris spent his final two seasons with the St. Louis Cardinals, winning another World Series there in 1967; and the Museum’s welcome sign.
A look at Gate City Bank Field in the Fargodome before November’s Northern Iowa-North Dakota State game.
My pants would be BLAZING if I tried to tell you with a straight face that when I sat down and began crafting a list of 80 of the most iconic sporting events and venues to experience during my journey Around the World in 80 Sporting Events, that a visit to the Fargodome for a North Dakota State Bison football game was on that list.
It was not!
In fact, until I began shopping airfares from Detroit to Winnipeg, Manitoba, with an eye toward attending the 112th CFL Grey Cup (which is Event No. 32) a trip to Fargo was never a consideration.
And then I saw the airfare to Winnipeg!
As I searched for nearby airports my options were, um, extremely limited. In fact, Fargo was pretty much the beginning and end of the list. Located a mere 3-hour drive from Winnipeg’s Princess Auto Stadium where the Grey Cup was scheduled.
As a happy bonus, there was a flight out of Flint, MI, through O’Hare in Chicago to Fargo that was rougly a 67% discount on what it would be to fly directly into Winnipeg. Lodging costs, as one might expect for the Canadian equivalent of the Super Bowl, were considerably higher in Winnipeg that weekend than Fargo as well.
Having settled on flying to Fargo and renting a car then the curiosity in me checked to see what else might be occurring in North Dakota that weekend.
There were a couple of options that leapt off the page:
The defending FCS National Champion and top-ranked Bison had a mid-afternoon Saturday game against the University of Northern Iowa.
Now, I love college hockey – heck, covering it was one of my former jobs! – but the opportunity to see one of college football’s most successful programs, regardless of division, was too good an opportunity to pass up.
The Tipping Point
Erv Inniger, at right, was all too happy to play the role of host during my visit to NDSU.
Any lingering doubt about adding a NDSU football game to my 80 events was dismissed following a text exchange with Erv Inniger.
If the name Erv Inniger sounds familiar, there are several possible reasons for that:
Back in the early 1960s, Erv helped lead tiny Berne (IN) High School to three sectional titles, two regional championships, and a semi-state crown;
He played three years at Indiana University and was a captain on the 1966-67 Big Ten Champion Hoosiers’ squad;
He then coached at Golden Valley (MN) Lutheran College, Augsburg (MN) College, and NDSU, where he remains the career leader in coaching victories with 244;
He is a past-guest of Conversations with Sports Fans (S:1, E:30).
When I texted Erv to see if he might be able to help Wayne and I secure Bison tickets he seemed eager to assist. The fact that he’s a former schoolmate and longtime friend of my father, Jerry, might have greased the skids on my request, but after meeting Erv at the Fargodome prior to the NDSU-UNI game, I suspect he’d have assisted if I was some rando who stumbled upon his phone number.
Following his coaching days, Erv moved into the role of Associate Athletic Director for Development, which meant he, basically, worked the greater Fargo business community for donations to the athletic department.
That was evident as he took Wayne and I around the tailgate lot outside the Fargodome meeting folks such as Bison Bob, the Milkman, and myriad others who he grew to know during his 33 total years with the University.
Mid-November Tailgating in Fargo
The tailgating scene in Fargo mid-November was lively. Clockwise from upper left, some had buses, others had enclosed tents with plenty of weights or trailers to haul their supplies; the wind was stiff on this sunny November afternoon (check out those flags!); my buddy Wayne laughs with the locals.
The 40-degree temperature that day in Fargo was actually above average and the sunny skies only didn’t hurt either. What did hurt were steady winds that early afternoon in excess of 20 miles per hour. It certainly put a bit of a bite in the air as we sampled the fare at a few tailgates.
That got me to thinking about the conundrum that is dressing for the outdoor tailgating weather but also for attending a game indoors where the promised temperature is 70 degrees? I’m sure Detroit Lions’ fans and any other northern domed cities can help with this, but it was rather new to me.
Much like my time spent in Fairbanks, I found these Fargonians prepared for the elements. There were tents with plenty of weights to help anchor and prevent the wind from recreating scenes from The Wizard of Oz. Several set ups that we saw had some version of propane-fueled portable heaters and many had grills for the preparation of their protein of choice. And, yes, as you might have expected, there didn’t seem to be any problem keeping beverages chilled.
Easily the coolest cat we met during Erv’s tour was the previously mentioned, Bison Bob.
Bob Clark is a fan … a big fan … a rabid fan … a well-traveled fan.
When we met Bob, the sandwich board out front of his tailgate proudly announced that “Today was Bison Bob’s 560th consecutive game,” which means – as you read this – Bison Bob is at 561 consecutive games and holding because the Bison season has ended. The streak began in 1982 and he perservered through the COVID-19 pandemic and its wonky rules about fan allotments and who was allowed to attend.
That’s me and NDSU superfan, Bob Clark (aka Bison Bob), whose now witnessed 561 Bison games in person (Photos by Wayne Wilson).
A Visit to the Field
The view from the field, Wayne and I, a wide shot from the field, and a look at the pylon. (Photos by Troy Goergen and Wayne Wilson)
In his unofficial role as Hospitality Hank, Erv set up an opportunity for Wayne and I to get on the field pre-game with Senior Associate AD, Troy Goergen (my guest on a recent bonus Conversation about NDSU).
As Troy walked us down to field level we learned a bit of the history of the Fargodome.
Despite being built on the NDSU campus, it’s owned and operated by the City of Fargo;
It’s a multi-purpose venue and has hosted major concert acts, basketball games (including NBA exhibitions), commencement ceremonies, as well as football through the years;
The artificial turf is actually one continuous piece of turf that can be rolled up and housed inside one end of the facility, e.g. Magic Carpet system;
Due to static electricity potentially building up, groomers of the turf include some diluted fabric softener as they prep the field prior to games;
It’s purported to be the largest indoor event space between Minneapolis and Seattle.
From the outside, the facility is rather unassuming, and even once inside, it doesn’t seem all that large. However, from the field level, it’s a different perspective. Wayne and I are both veterans of many big stadiums and even we had to admit it was an impressive venue, especially when one considers its location … Fargo.
Equally impressive was watching Bison sophomore placekicker Eli Ozick go through his pre-game work. He was easily booming field goals from over 60 yards. If you’re an NFL general manager looking for your next kicker, you could do a lot worse than Eli.
Bison kicker Eli Ozick is about to nail a 46-yard field goal.
NDSU’s Storied History
Perhaps there’s not enough room to hang all of the banners? The Fargodome just includes years on existing banners (make room for 2025 for Conference Championships).
When I mentioned near the top that North Dakota State, historically, is one of college football’s most decorated programs I don’t believe I was exaggerating.
The school first fielded a football team in 1894 and, beginning in 1921, joined the now-defunct North Central Conference and played at the NCAA Division II level. During these 83 seasons, the Bison won eight national championships (1965, 1968, 1969, 1983, 1985, 1986, 1988, and 1990). In 2003 they, along with South Dakota State University, made the athletic jump to the NCAA Division I level, though each play in the Football Championship Subdivision.
While it took the better part of a decade, the Bison became a major factor at the FCS level beginning in 2011. Since its first FCS Championship that year, its won nine more – including five in a row (’11-’15) and three in a row (’17-’19). Those 10 titles are the most in the history of FCS which begin in 1978 as NCAA I-AA. At one point during that stretch in mid-2010s run which included victory at Iowa, the Bison were receiving votes in the AP Top 25 polls and reached as high as No. 27.
Oh yeah, during its history, NDSU has won outright or shared 39 conference titles, including 12 of the past 15 in the Missouri Valley Football Conference. It won the 2025 title by defeating intra-state rival, North Dakota, 15-10, the week prior to our visit.
As we heard plenty of times during our day at the Fargodome, NDSU fans are more-than-a-little spoiled by the success. That was evidenced by a less-than full house during our game (14,736 out of a possible 19,000) and a crowd that largely made its way to the exits following the halftime festivities with the Bison leading 31-2.
The Game
Clockwise from upper left, Thundar gives the fans the heart sign following the victory; the scoreboard says it all; the Bison take a knee post game at midfield.
As noted previously, this one was over pretty early.
North Dakota scored on two of its first three possessions, then crazily yielded a safety, before adding 17 more points before halftime for that 31-2 lead. It grew to 38-2 early in the third quarter when Bison quarterback Cole Payton busted off a 64-yard touchdown run.
By that time, NDSU began providing its bench players with plenty of opportunities to gain experience and showcase their wares en route to a 48-16 final score that really didn’t seem that close. The Bison outgained the Panthers 477-201 yards and had nearly twice as many first downs (24-13).
Me prior to the start of Game 6 of the World Series in Toronto’s Rogers Centre.
As regular readers of this space likely know, I have a goal to attend 80 of the most iconic sporting events and/or venues the world has to offer by the time I turn 60. So, as Mona Lisa Vito (aka Marisa Tomei) famously stated in My Cousin Vinny … “My biological clock is tickin’ like <foot stomp> this <foot stomp>!” (See the scene here.)
Because of this, and because my hometown Detroit Tigers, the Seattle Mariners, and the Philadelphia Phillies all flamed out of Major League Baseball’s post-season short of the World Series, I made a decision based largely on finances to attend Game 6 of the 2025 World Series in Toronto.
I had lodging lined up in those other cities and even had someone who’d likely be able to secure me a ticket for a reasonable rate in Philly, so if it were any of those squads, I’d have attended a game.
Admittedly, I was asleep at the wheel for Games 1 and 2 of the Series and didn’t even examine too carefully what the cost of attending in Toronto might be. I did, however, look at Games 4 and 5 in Los Angeles and while they were more affordably priced than Toronto’s Game 6 and 7 (the curse of success, I suppose) there would also be airfare, ground transportation, and lodging costs involved.
Potentially, none of that would exist by traveling a few hours north. I could take the VIA Rail train out of Windsor, Ontario, directly to Toronto’s Union Station, walk a few blocks to the Rogers Centre, watch the game, celebrate (fingers crossed) a win with the locals, hang out in Union Station through the night, and return home on the first train to Windsor the next morning. And, despite paying more than three times as much as I’ve paid to attend any of the previous 29 events, I’d still manage to come in under my total budget for attending a World Series.
Plus – the whole biological clock thing – I only had one more crack at a World Series before June 2027 and there is no guarantee the Tigers, Mariners, Phillies or even the Guardians or Blue Jays would be there in 2026.
So the afternoon of Game 5 I booked my roundtrip train ticket and found the best deal I could on a single seat for Game 6 and made the purchase.
I was going to the World Series!
Here’s my own personal version of notable Canadian actor Kiefer Sutherland‘s show, “24” (without all the violence of course;-).
Friday, October 31, 10:30 a.m. EST
A previously scheduled haircut now complete, I swung back by home to pick up a few things I’d failed to pack and began the journey to the Detroit-Windsor Tunnel.
Was I surprised when I got to the border control booth and, upon telling the Canadian customs officer why I was entering the country, he asked to see my ticket?
Perhaps.
Was I all too willing to seek permission to pull out my phone and show it to him?
Absolutely!
Was he a touch jealous?
I believe he might have been.
Satisfied I wasn’t an ugly American entering his homeland with ill intent, he told me to enjoy the game and let me pass.
Picture the largest pavilion in a municipal park you’ve ever visited, put four walls around it, a couple vending machines inside, a small ticket counter, and two restrooms and you’ve got a pretty good idea of the relative size of Windsor Station.
Being Canada and all, there was a small display case touting the Hockey Hall of Fame (Event No. 27, by the way) filled with goalie masks.
Hockey Hall of Fame goalie masks on display at the Windsor Train Station.
I decided I’d try to do a video log to chronicle my travels. The first installment was filmed outside the Station.
I’m still fresh and full of anticipation.
Friday, October 31, 4:45 p.m. EST
We’d just pulled out of Oakville Station and I exchanged a pleasant goodbye to my seat row mate, a twentysomething who operates his own hardscapes business. He was traveling back home to visit family and friends for a long weekend and Halloween party.
Yes, he planned to watch that night’s game, as was 75% of Canada I was thinking. Especially the fella four rows in front of us who, donning a Blue Jays jersey and cap, was a LOUD TALKER. The 12-pack of Molson he brought along when he boarded in Brantford (hometown of Wayne Gretzky, BTW) did nothing to soften his tone.
I was able to glean that this fella is now divorced, the father of two, had some substance abuse issues in his past (and maybe present based upon an empty 12-pack I noticed when we disembarked [disclosure: he did give some to his row mates]), works on power lines, lost some friends who plummeted to their death after not harnessing in correctly, and wasn’t sure where he was going to stay that night, but had some buddy whose flat he’d probably crash at.
He was stoked for Game 6 and felt it would be over after tonight.
That made two of us!
Anticipation builds in the final stretch of my journey to Toronto.
Somewhere following the departure of my pal who left me in Oakville, I figured it’d be prudent to look to see what the Union Station hours were. I’d just assumed that in a city of nearly 3 million people and close to 8 million in the immediate area that it’d be open 24/7.
I was wrong:-(
The website indicated it closes at 12:45 a.m.
Surely that’d change following a Blue Jays’ victory, I figured.
Should I tell my wife that I might be facing several overnight hours on the streets of Toronto? Beyond making her worry was there any point in that?
I chose not to and began researching 24-hour diners … just in case.
Friday, October 31, 5:40 p.m. EST
The main hall at Toronto’s Union Station.
Our train pulled into Union Station about a half hour later than scheduled and as I disembarked the first order of business was to scope out the place, find a spot for hunkering down later, and confirm with someone that it does, in fact, close its doors.
It does, I was told, typically by 1 o’clock each morning, but because of the game tonight – as well as Halloween – those hours might vary.
Here’s hoping!
Fresh off the train and preparing to follow the crowd.
From Union Station I simply needed to follow the Blue Jays-clad crowd and, it appeared, that could all be accomplished without going onto Front Street. Following the SkyWalk over the various rail tracks we ultimately spilled out near the Ripley’s Aquarium of Canada where it seemed like everyone was posing for photos in the fading daylight with the Rogers Centre and CN Tower for backdrops.
Why would I be any different, well, accept for the striking a pose thing?
The inside of the SkyWalk (left) as well as a shot of the CN Tower at sunset (Rogers Centre partially visible behind it) through an extremely dirty window in the SkyWalk.
Friday, October 31, 6:15 p.m. EST
Some sights from outside, clockwise from upper left, one of the oddest pregame giveaways I recall … bread; Katrina was hoping Marlins Man had a hook up for her; the Rogers Centre marquee says it all; even the side of the marquee had Blue Jays’ fever; a spot for fan photos in a random corner outside Rogers Centre.
By the time I made my way to the plaza surrounding the Rogers Centre, it was clear these Toronto fans were more than ready for this game.
The crowd – some costumed thanks to it being Halloween night – was festive and plentiful. There were even folks around without tickets who were just there to experience the vibe. I overhead a mother telling her two children that they were just looking around and then they’d head back to Scotiabank Arena where they had tickets for a watch party.
Yes, you read that correctly. The game was being played four blocks away with 45,000 people in attendance and another 18,000 or so would take it in via videoboards just down the street.
Two things I observed while milling about the area:
First, in one of the all-time strangest pre-game giveaways I can remember, I was handed a 4-pack of King’s Hawaiian Sweet Rolls. I’ve seen energy drinks, canned cocktails, tobacco substitutes, and the like given away before events but never did I receive a package of slider buns. What the heck were folks supposed to do with those, considering they wouldn’t be allowed in the stadium? Consequently, the few trash receptacles nearby were overflowing with packages of King’s Hawaiian.
Second, I spotted a woman @Katrinaisnice holding a sign that wanted @Marlins_Man to have her join him at the game. The Marlins Man is a fella who sat behind homeplate at the first five games decked out in Miami Marlins’ garb. He’s been doing it for several years. I actually learned just a day or two earlier that I knew a fella who knew him. I texted Ryan who, first laughed, and then told me he didn’t think Marlins Man would be at tonight’s game. I hope Katrina found a taker.
Friday, October 31, 6:45 p.m. EST
Entering the Rogers Centre.
Lots of people on the concourse.
I’m in!
Suprisingly, entry into the Rogers Centre went as efficiently as I’ve seen at a major event such as this. Perhaps it was due to me walking to the opposite side of the plaza where all the people were congregating, but I had – essentially – next-in-line service, scanned my ticket and was now attending my first World Series since Game 3 of the 2012 Tigers-Giants Series at Comerica Park.
And it wasn’t as though I was among the earliest entrants.
I quickly ascertained that Torontonians were FIRED UP for this possible clincher. The concourses became increasingly more and more crowded until, as I took a lap, I discovered a choke point in left-center field where the Fox Sports Studio team was set up. Whether it was due to the space it was occupying, the number of gawkers watching A-Rod, Papi, and Jeter, or something else, we were essentially at a standstill for several minutes. Which afforded me a glance at the World Series Trophy and – for reason’s known only to him – A-Rod clenching his pen between his teeth.
Eventually, I made my way up to my seats in the 500 Level. And if you think that sounds like a long way from the field of play, you’d be right. It was borderline vertigo-inducing and the players appeared somewhere between ant- and mouse-sized below.
But I was in the building and had a chance to witness a season-ender.
Clockwise from upper left, the Fox Sports desk with A-Rod, Papi, Jeter, and a bit of the World Series Trophy; this fan was predicting the future; a look at the sea of fans on the Rogers Centre concourse; the MLB Tonight studio desk at field level; and a random oversized Blue Jays hat was available for photo ops along the ramp to the 500 Level.
Friday, October 31, 7:30 p.m. EST
Yoshi Yamamoto’s insanely long, long-toss.
As I settled into my seat in the next-to-last row I took it all in. The grandeur of this stadium, of the crowd that was beginning to fill up the seating areas a solid 45 minutes before first pitch, and of Dodgers’ starting pitcher Yoshi Yamamoto who was beginning his pre-start routine with an unfathomable long-toss regiment from deepest center field to the wall in right field. The distance was so great the fella who was returing his throws needed to 1-hop them to the Yamamoto.
From there, it was time for pre-game falderal.
The ceremonial first pitch came courtesy of Devon White who made a whale of a catch in 1992’s Game 3 against Atlanta. And, yes, it should have been a triple play!
White’s 1992 Game 3 catch.
White’s Game 6 first pitch.
From there it was anthem time (both the U.S. and Canadian), an obligatory hype video for the home team, and the taking of the field by the Blue Jays.
Finally, it was game time!
Friday, October 31, 8 p.m. EST
The Blue Jays take the field.
Game 6 could hardly have started better for the host Blue Jays. Pitcher Kevin Gausman struck out the side in the top of the first and then followed it up with another perfect inning, fanning two more.
Alas, Yamamoto was every bit his equal, facing the minimum six batters through two innings as well.
Los Angeles scored three runs in their half of the third, but Toronto countered with one its own to narrow the gap, slightly. From there it was Nervous Nellie time for the majority of the 44,710 fans.
A few observations from my spot amid the Rogers Centre rafters’ riff-raff.
I purposely selected my headwear for the game – Montreal Expos hat – as a nod to Canadian baseball. I’m still bitter enough about Toronto’s George Bell winning the 1987 American League MVP over Detroit’s Alan Trammell that there was no way I’d wear a Jays’ hat. But the Expos, a team yanked from the country by MLB and wealthy owners – yeah – I can get behind that. Surprisingly, I received plenty of compliments about my headwear, including a hat tap from another Expos’ wearing fan during my walk around the concourse earlier.
Knowing what I paid for my seat, I was aghast to overhear the fella to my right explaining baseball to his female companion. Did he really just drop the better part of $1,500 CAD and bring someone with him who didn’t know a thing about baseball!?! As I overheard her sarcastically say to the person to her right, “Nothing like learning baseball at Game 6 of the World Series.” Oy vay, he had!
Converserly, four adult family members and massive Blue Jays’ fans, were seated in single seats throughout my section. They found four seats in the last row that remained vacant following the third inning and rejoined together there. I spoke to one earlier in the evening and they’d just driven eight hours from Sault Ste. Marie, ON, to Toronto for the game.
Though I’m guessing it wasn’t them, I swear the person a row below me to my left was Jeopardy! Super Champion, Mattea Roach. A Canada native, Roach went on a month-long winning streak the spring of 2022 and amassed over half-a-million U.S. dollars in winnings. If, in fact, it was Roach sitting in front of me … they enjoy cold beer (or four!)
Was this person seated a row in front of me to my left Jeopardy! Super Champion, Mattea Roach? I think it’s entirely possible.
Friday, October 31, Sometime Around 10 p.m. EST
The Blue Jays began running out of time. After leaving runners at first and second in the sixth inning, about the only positive to come from that was Yamamoto’s exit from the game to start before the seventh inning.
My thoughts after six innings.
My thoughts after seven innings.
Friday, October 31, Approximately 10:45 p.m. EST
The Dodgers shake hands following the stunning conclusion to Game 6.
With Yamamoto out there was a sense of hope among us fans in the outer reaches.
That a 2-out double was wasted in the seventh inning and runners at first and second with one out in the eighth went without a run certainly tempered that optimism.
But Blue Jays’ fans from Halifax to Whitehorse dreamed the impossible dream in the bottom of the ninth when Toronto catcher Alejandro Kirk was hit by a pitch to lead off. And when Addison Barger striped a 2-2 pitch to the base of the wall seemingly scoring pinch-runner Myles Straw, the Rogers Centre was ready to lose its roof.
Alas, what I was able to see from my vantage point, but fans behind me or those potentially looking at the runners couldn’t see, was that Barger’s line drive was wedged between the base of the wall and its padding. Dodgers’ center fielder Justin Dean raised his arms immediately to indicate it was unplayable which meant Straw was returned to third base.
Still, the crowd was crackling as, with tying run on a second, nobody out, and the line up destined to turn over to lead off hitter and ALCS hero, George Springer.
Then, in a decision that our high school baseball coach, Larry Weis, is no doubt still angry about, Clement did the unthinkable. Not only did he swing at the first pitch against a starting pitcher coming out of the bullpen, he popped out to second base, thus not advancing the Blue Jays’ cause whatsoever.
When light-hitting shortstop Andres Gimenez then hit a sinking liner to left-center on the second pitch he saw and Kike Hernandez leapt, caught, and threw in one motion back to second to double off Barger, the nearly euphoric crowd was gobsmacked into stunned silence.
The entire sequence played out on the field directly below my vantage point and no matter how loudly I yelled “BACK!!!” to Barger, it did no good. He violated one of the earliest rules of baseball: see the ball hit the ground before taking off. He took a couple of hard steps toward third before realizing he needed to get back.
And, just like that, the Blue Jays went from 180-feet away from extra innings to – three pitches later – having to face the World Champions in a deciding Game 7 a day later.
Do I look gobsmacked? I know I felt gobsmacked after that finish.
Friday, October 31, 11:15 p.m. EST
Clockwise from upper left, at the back of a bar in left-center field is the distance, presumably, to hit one there; a shot in the 200 Level of Rogers Centre; this mural adorns a wall in the concourse; the Sportsnet postgame set on the field; and the scoreboard lets folks know the World Series continues.
Like many of my 44,000-plus fellow fans, I was in no mood to leave.
I sat and surveyed the scene around me: The fella in front of me called a buddy to talk it out; my family from Sault Ste. Marie began exploring tickets for Saturday night; the Mattea Roach doppelganger finished their last beverage, gathered their belongings, and began descending the stairs; and that guy and his female friend who’d, apparently, never seen a baseball game before … yeah, they weren’t even in their seats for that fateful ninth inning.
As I slowly steeled myself for what lie ahead – six hours on the streets of Toronto – I came to grips with the fact that my shot at seeing one of only 121 final games of an MLB season had been dashed in a matter of three pitches.
Three stinking pitches!
Extra innings would have certainly been nice for my situation. I figured the longer I could stay in the Rogers Centre the better. So I took the long way out of the stadium, stopping to examine some spots I’d not seen on my way in.
And then, I left the climate controlled confines of Rogers Centre for the cool Halloween Night air of downtown Toronto.
Friday, October 31, 11:50 p.m. EST
Clockwise from left, I got up close to the CN Tower; and was reminded of how soon the 2026 Milano-Cortina Games are; there was a healthy supply of law enforcement ready for something that didn’t seem to materialize.
As me and thousands of others sought solace with each other on Front Street, a few things popped into my head.
Thank heaven it’s not raining;
The city was ready for a victory (or righteous rage) based upon the volume of police in riot gear along the street;
As a man with a megaphone railed against Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney for all to hear, it seems everyone, everywhere has something to complain about;
The CBC advertisement for the 2026 Milano-Cortina Winter Olympics made me realize I’ll be there in fewer than 100 days;
I wasn’t familiar with Sportsnet’s Tim Micallef, but I walked a block with him and chatted him up about all things Canada, including any pointers he had for my coming trip to the 112th CFL Grey Cup;
Finally, the Los Angeles Dodgers wasted little time in getting out the Rogers Centre. By the time I’d made my way to Front and Lower Simcoe streets, the Dodgers’ team buses were rolling through the intersection.
The Dodgers’ buses roll by the gathered throng of fans at Front and Lower Simcoe streets.
Saturday, November 1, 12:15 a.m.
I arrived back at Union Station where I witnessed an odd amalgamation of baseball fans and Halloween revelers co-mingling in search of transportation out of the city center.
Many of the costumed seemed to lean into the Joker and Suicide Squad franchises. I saw countless iterations of Harley Quinn (the Joker’s girlfriend) as well as the Joker himself. To say I had my fill of white face paint with bright red lip gloss would be an understatement.
As many of the Halloween party goers skewed younger (think teens and early twenties), there were more than a few who were – shall I say – underdressed for the early morning hours of November 1. Somewhere there were parents who would not have approved of their costume choices, methinks.
Anyhow, I approached a uniformed security guard and asked if there was, in fact, a designated closing time for the station. He said that there was (1:30 a.m., he’d heard) but that the bus station’s doors stay open later. He also tipped me to an all-night A&W Restaurant a few blocks down on Front Street that might provide me some shelter and sustenance during the overnight hours.
I found a comfortable seat out of the way in the station, took out a notebook I’d brought along, and began jotting notes down about my experiences to the moment.
All was well until about 1:45 a.m. when more security began doing a sweep of the area I was in. They noted the last trains were soon to depart and we should all get to our spots. I asked for directions to the bus station (also part of the Union Station complex) and made my way there.
Saturday, November 1, 2 a.m.
To give you a sense of some of the folks hanging with me in the Bus Station. On the plus side, the vending machines offered some fine fare that reminded me of the convenience stores in Japan.
The bus station was bustling (see what I did there;-). It seems many of the Halloweeners planned to party until they could party no more. Buses, it appeared were the preferred mode of transportation out of Toronto, with the last one scheduled to depart shortly before 4 a.m.
This boded well for me wandering the streets. It would, in effect, be only about an hour and a half that I’d have to kill outside the cover of the station.
I attempted to find a seat out of the way but was unsuccessful. Apparently, I was a magnet for others to sit near. Mainly it was 17-to-20 year olds who’d not fully thought through returning to their homes from whatever party they’d attended.
As I went into full eavesdropping mode, I inferred that many had not purchased a bus ticket prior to arriving at the station (they were now sold out) and were suffering from sticker shock on the cost of rideshares on such a busy night. The rate I heard time and again was $300 to get them to their destination, something this crowd either would not or, more likely, could not pay. Others, it seemed, felt Halloween night would be treated the same at New Year’s Eve and trains would run later than normal … which they did not.
Finally, I could take it no more, and put on my dad hat and addressed the five who were seated directly behind me.
I suggested that their parents would probably like to know where they were and that they were safe (if they’d not already been in contact) and that if they were tired of sitting around here waiting for Uber rates to drop, perhaps they should go to the A&W a few blocks away, get something to eat, and try again in an hour or so when they’d likely become more affordable.
They politely thanked me for my thoughts and before I knew it had left (either to get away from dad or to get a few orders of fries and a root beer).
Meanwhile, I went back to checking out the scene around me which continued to amaze at how many people had, apparently, not thought through how they’d get to their homes.
Eventually, a little before 4 a.m., the final bus left the station and security paid us a visit asking where we were headed.
I proudly responded, “A&W!”
To which he chuckled.
By 4 a.m., I headed out into that chilly, dark Toronto night.
Saturday, November 1, 4:15 a.m.
Perhaps I was expecting, nay, hoping for an American A&W experience where I might be able to get a chili dog and a root beer float to wash away my cares at a quarter past four in the morning. Alas, what I found was more closely related to a McDonald’s or Wendy’s.
Sure, there was root beer and fries, but the sandwiches were limited to burgers and chicken. I went with the Chubby Chicken Burger with fries and root beer and looked for a seat.
What I saw were several, rapidly hanging over post-adolescents in all manner of face paint and costumes, congregating at various tables among discarded bags, wrappers, napkins, and cups festooning much of the rest of the seating areas. I cleaned off a spot on the counter facing out the front window and awaited my number to be called.
As I claimed my order, I noticed a sign posted behind the counter: “Maximum 30-minute seating time.” I looked at my clock and figured I’d need to be on my way by about 4:45 which would mean a 45-minute walk around downtown.
I sipped my soda and munched on my fries and got a jump start on some of my New York Times games.
Saturday, November 1, 4:45 a.m.
Clockwise from upper left, the exterior of the Hockey Hall of Fame from across Front Street; a display of the commemorative coin from 1972’s Summit Series; the Eaton Centre is all in on the Blue Jays; the exterior of Union Station; the workers and customers at this Starbucks were away so the mouse came out to play; this sculpture of young hockey players is in front of the Hall of Fame.
As I made my way back to Yonge Street, I was far from the only one out. Many that I saw were still in costume and, apparently, decided to do what I was doing: biding their time until public transportation began again. I saw only a few folks who appeared to – maybe – be baseball fans. The lion’s share of people out were those getting their Saturday started and a few from the unhoused population who were doing what they’d likely be doing 364 other nights of the year.
It was an invigorating walk about half a mile up Yonge Street to the Eaton Center. Along the way, I spotted a mouse running laps around the dining area in still-closed Starbucks (perhaps it had a nip or two of one too many espresso beans?), walked by a few folks laying face down on the sidewalk’s steam vents seeking warmth, and found a couple of active construction sites.
Besides watching the rodent races at Starbucks, I spent a bit of time at the exterior of the Hockey Hall of Fame, a spot I’d visited just a few weeks earlier as Event No. 27. Previously, I’d not taken the time see the sculpture out front or note the 1972 Summit Series remembrance.
Before I knew it, I was approaching Union Station and stood off to the side waiting for the doors to open shortly after 5:30 a.m.
A few thoughts during my walk about in Toronto.
Saturday, November 1, 5:35 a.m.
Union Station was much quieter in the early morning than it was in the late afternoon.
Back in the comforts of Union Station, I proceeded to my VIA Rail gate and got comfortable, awaiting my scheduled 6:50 a.m. train to Windsor.
It was a much quieter trip back to Windsor. Mercifully, my loud-talking, beer guzzling passenger mate did not return to Brantford at this early hour (color me shocked!). Most of us who made our way onto my car either closed our eyes or pulled out a device to wile away the hours until we arrived at our destination.
For me, that was Windsor and I was back by …
Saturday, November 1, 11:45 a.m.
My final video diary installment from the Windsor Train Station.
As I climbed in my car and began heading toward the Detroit-Windsor Tunnel for my hour or so commute back home, I realized I had to make one final stop. Thought it’s literally an hour from my driveway, I don’t make it to Windsor … ever.
So as I drove down Riverside Drive, I pulled into a parking lot near the Bert Weeks Memorial Gardens and took out my phone one more time to capture an image I’ve rarely seen in person: The Detroit skyline from the Windsor side of the Detroit River.
The Detroit skyline (and a few gulls) as seen from the Windsor side of the Detroit River.
Me in front of the Word of Life mural (aka Touchdown Jesus) on the south side of the Hesburgh Library.
As a youngster growing up in rural Indiana during the 1970s it meant I pretty much had my pick of teams to root for.
The Hoosier State had no Major League Baseball team (and still doesn’t), no National Football League team, no National Hockey League team (and still doesn’t), and a nascent National Basketball Association team.
(Side Note: Sure the Indiana Pacers were a dominant force in the upstart American Basketball Association [three titles in nine season], but after joining the NBA as part of the merger before the 1976 season, the Pacers didn’t participate in post-season basketball until 1981 and then not again until 1987, by which point I was all in on the Detroit Pistons, having moved to Michigan in 1978.)
Living in a professional football vacuum like we did, I primarily turned my gridiron focus to Saturday afternoons. And to most rationale Indiana youngsters in the mid-to-late 1970s that meant casting an eye to the northcentral part of the state and the campus of the University of Notre Dame.
Admittedly, I was probably a bit too young to remember the Coach Ara Parseghian era (1964-74), but I surely remember Coach Dan Devine‘s six seasons, especially 1977 when the Fighting Irish finished the regular-season 10-1 and then upset top-ranked Texas in the Cotton Bowl, 38-10, to secure the National Championship.
Perhaps it was the ubiquitous “Word of Life” mural (aka Touchdown Jesus) always looming beyond the north endzone, but I always imagined attending a game at Notre Dame Stadium as akin to a religious experience.
And it probably was that frigid mid-November Saturday afternoon 41 years ago when my high school buddy, Jack, and I made the road trip from suburban Detroit and used a pair of tickets my father had somehow procurred for what should have been a marquee matchup (Penn State was in town), but instead featured a pair teams heading nowhere fast. By the time the Irish won, 44-7, both stood at 6-4.
Beyond being woefully underdressed and peering through the occasional snow flurry, I remember next-to-nothing from my only Notre Dame football game.
Therefore, it was with a fair amount of certainty that a Notre Dame football game was going appear on my list of 80 for the Around the World in 80 Sporting Events project.
Which one?
As I surveyed the Irish’s future schedules during planning back in the winter of 2024, there was one game in South Bend that rose above the rest: the University of Southern California at Notre Dame, October 18, 2025.
Why the Trojans?
A Spirit of Troy twirler and Tommy Trojan during the Notre Dame game.
Simply stated, one of my core sports fan memories as an Indiana youngster was the afternoon of October 22, 1977, when the Notre Dame hosted USC.
The game was telecast on ABC and I recall sitting transfixed in front of the television as a roughly constructed horse (a Trojan Horse, if you will) was wheeled out in front of the tunnel and there came the Irish … in green jerseys! Never had I seen it before and 11th ranked Notre Dame rode the emotional boost of switching to green following warm ups (and quarterback Joe Montana‘s hot hand) to a 49-19 romp of the fifth-ranked Trojans.
Irish players from that era discuss the Green Jersey Game vs. USC from 1977.
The series dates to 1926 and has been played every year since with the exception of 1943-45 due to World War II and 2020 because of COVID-19. It is also not scheduled beyond 2026 in Los Angeles.
All the more reason to attend this year.
Logistics
Indiana’s Oliver Lake shortly before departing for South Bend.
I may be an Indiana native, but my connections to Notre Dame football are limited.
The one person I knew who attended Irish football games was my cousin Michelle’s husband, Todd. He grew up around South Bend and he and a longtime friend, Brian, get to a few game’s annually.
I reached out to Todd who promised to see what he could do.
In the meantime, I booked a room in Angola, IN, which was about as close I could get without risking a missed mortgage payment and kept an eye on the secondary ticket market, just in case. By mid-May, Todd let me know they had a ticket for me. By mid-July, he mentioned that we might be able to use a family cottage on Oliver Lake in LaGrange, IN, for our post-game respite.
Without digressing too deeply, spending the night at Oliver Lake was something I hadn’t done in close to 30 years, so – regardless of how the game might turn out – it would be a memorable night, regardless.
Unlike the previous college campuses I’d visited for football during the AtWi80SE (Ole Miss and Alabama) project, there is no tailgating on the campus quad or parts of the academic grounds. Rather, the tailgating is reserved for the lots surrounding the stadium.
This allows for unencumbered touring of the campus and an opportunity to linger at the spots noted above. Though, fair warning, if the weather’s nice you’ll have plenty of company strolling this picturesque campus.
While tailgating isn’t permitted in these areas, various student groups do have grills and/or food trucks set up to sell food and soft drinks to the fans who are getting their inner-Rudy on by wandering about and taking in the sights.
This walkabout is what I know I didn’t do those 41 years ago during my previous visit. I would have certainly remembered the lengthy line of fans queued to light a candle and say a prayer at the Grotto or the hushed whispers and ornate stained glass witnessed in the Basilica.
Clockwise from upper left, many Irish fans visit the Basilica of the Sacred Heart before home games; a look at the rear of the Basilica and the organ pipes; the Irish Green was active during my walkabout; below the Basilica is the Grotto of Our Lady of Lourdes; Knute Rockne may be the most-famous Notre Dame coach; the Word of Life mural on the side of Hesbergh Library; one of about eight bagpipers on entertained visitors; the Clarke Memorial Fountain honors over 500 ND alums who perished in WWII and the Korean and Vietnam Wars; the Rev. Robert Dowd’s message in front of the golden dome; the Lou Holtz statue; the Frank Leahy statue; the Ara Parseghian statue; fans line up to light a candle at the Grotto; an exterior view of the Basilica.
The Tailgate
As the rain increased in intensity, our parking lot neighbor’s tent became a gathering spot for several well-served USC students who made the trip to South Bend for the game.
My game is lacking in this area, but Todd – an ex-Navy submarine cook – handled the cooking and even mixed me a Canadian whiskey and ginger to feel a part of the crowd. (The crowd being me, Todd, and his longtime tailgate mates Ed [an Illinois grad] and Lynne [a Notre Dame grad].
With some heavy weather in the area, we eschewed the tent but were all too willing to utilize the one our neighbors had set up.
This was an interesting group. The host was a long-time Notre Dame fan whose daughter attended the school, but during a study abroad her senior year met her future husband, who was a USC student. So the father, his son-in-law and his younger brother and father (all from San Antonio) occupied the parking spot next to ours.
They shared their ice and we shared some of our chicken and adult beverages. Their tent came in handy as well when the skies opened up about two hours before the 7:30 p.m. kickoff and became a magnet for many of the rain-soaked USC students who’d made the trek east for the game.
The Game
A soggy Doug and Todd during the fourth quarter and a view of Notre Dame Stadium from our seats.
I shouldn’t say it was everything I’d hoped it would be (I could have done without the persistent rain;-), but it was pretty dang close.
The game was competitive into the fourth quarter, we had the opportunity to witness the power and speed of Irish running back, Jeremiyah Love, up close (he finished with 228 yards and a touchdown on 24 carries); the gun-slinging offense of Trojans’ head coach Lincoln Riley and his junior quarterback, Jayden Maiava (328 yards with two touchdowns and two interceptions); one of the most exciting plays in sport when Notre Dame return man Jadarian Price answered USC’s lead-taking third-quarter TD with a 100-yard kickoff return for a score; and Notre Dame ultimately won, 34-24.
A Few Final Looks
Clockwise from upper left, fans in the stands now do pushups for each point ND has following scores ala the way the Leprechaun mascot has done for years; the concourses under the stadium are eerily empty while the game is ongoing; there was a crush of people attempting to get in about 45 minutes prior to the start of the game; the Irish offense sets up deep in USC territory; this Spirit of Troy drummer passed some peace to me; Notre Dame Stadium during quieter times early in the afternoon.
Me and the two Carlton the Bears, representing both the Maple Leafs and their predecessor, the St. Patricks.
As I explored a travel partner for the 30-hour jaunt to Toronto for both a visit to the Hockey Hall of Fame (Event No. 27) and an NHL Opening Night Original Six Matchup between storied rivals the Toronto Maple Leafs and Montreal Canadiens, I wanted to ensure it would be someone who would appreciate the history of both the Hall and the Leafs-Canadiens game.
Hands down, my first choice was Paul, my long-ago work colleague at the Ypsilanti Press. I’m unsure why, but this metro-Detroit native – who now resides in Birmingham, AL – lives and dies with the Maple Leafs every season. He and I traded a series of texts but some recent unforeseen expenditures precluded him from traveling north. Which turned out to probably be a good thing because he encountered a medical issue the day before we would have departed.
I next turned to Jim, one of my first co-workers as as middle school teacher. Jim retired in June and we’ve discussed going to a game together. Why not an international one, I figured! Sadly, the game conflicted with both Homecoming Week for his youngest child as well as his anniversary.
That led me to another Jim whose son, Andrew, and my son, Jake, have been best buddies since kindergarten. A lifelong Detroiter, Jim knows his sports and sports history. Plus, as a bonus, he’s a Teamster (he drives for Tri-County Beverage) and it never hurts to have a Teamster with you, right?
Jim was in! And, as a happy bonus, the professional driver even volunteered to drive!
With the the Hall of Fame visit in our rearview mirror all that was left was to make our way to Toronto’s Scotiabank Arena … or not.
But First … Detroit Tigers’ Baseball
You can take this pair of Detroiters out of Detroit but you can’t take Detroit fandom out of this pair of Detroiters.
Game 4 of the American League Divisional Series between the Tigers and Seattle Mariners was scheduled to begin shortly after 3 p.m. With Seattle leading the series, 2-1, seeing as much of this potential season-ending game was a priority for us two Tigers’ fans.
As might be expected from someone who chauffeurs cases and kegs of beer around the metro-Detroit area, Jim had identified a brewery/restaurant nearby for just such an occasion. Fittingly, the place was named Beertown.
We told the hostess straightaway what our intentions were: An early dinner, a few beverages, and watching Tigers’ baseball. We all agreed the bar would be the best spot for the only two Tigers’ fans in the place (The Blue Jays and New York Yankees played their Game 4 that night).
So we settled in and watched Seattle administer what seemed like hundreds of paper cuts en route to a 3-0 lead heading into the bottom of the fifth and were probably three outs away from asking for our bill, settling up, heading over to the arena, and leaving the Tigers to their own devices.
Then the bottom half of the Detroit’s batting order produced a 3-spot in the home half of the fifth and we were suddenly ordering another round.
Four more Tigers’ runs followed in the bottom of the sixth and – as we nursed our beverages through another inning – Detroit scored another in the seventh. We asked for the bill and watched Detroit rookie pitcher Troy Melton face the minimum again in the eighth. We caught a Tigers’ add-on run in the bottom of the eighth as we headed for the exit, feeling pretty secure in how it was going to end.
Detroit eventually won, 9-3, to force a deciding fifth game in Seattle two nights later.
My Third-ever Opener
Scotiabank Arena sits in downtown Toronto and is connected to the Union Station complex.
As I’ve documented pretty much ad nauseam, I’ve been a sports fan for well over 50 years.
However, during those 50 odd years, prior to attending this Leafs-Canadiens game I’d been to exactly two openers as a fan:
Detroit Tigers vs. Cleveland Indians, April 8, 1985 – I peered through intermittent snowflakes from the centerfield bleachers on this blustery 40-degree first pitch to watch the Tigers open defense of their World Series title.
Colorado Rockies vs. Montreal Expos, April 9, 1993 – This was the Rockies’ franchise home opener. We were in the right field of the old Mile High Stadium where I was none-too-pleased to see Dante Bichette starting instead of Dale Murphy whom I’d never seen play prior. (Murphy did enter the game as a defensive replacement and notched a RBI single in the seventh inning.)
This was my first-ever NHL opener.
Back home in Detroit it’s become a big to-do with a red carpet entrance for the Red Wings’ players to walk down complete with fans and waiting cameras and reporters to interview them as they strut their stuff. If such a moment occurred in Toronto I’m afraid our Tigers’ fandom prevented us from witnessing it.
We did stumble upon an emcee outside the main gate who was hosting a trivia contest with fans for giveaways and former Maple Leaf winger Rick Vaive was present to greet the fans, pose for photos, and sign autographs. (Disclosure: I had to ask a Torontonian who the player was.)
‘Canada Nice’ is Very Real
Entering the Scotiabank Arena left no doubt who was playing on this night.
From the random fan who informed me that was Rick Vaive, to the ticket scanners at the main gate who welcomed Jim and I, to concessionaire who informed me as a first-time Maple Leafs’ attendee I was eligible for a commeorative lanyard, to our section’s usher, to our rowmate who offered up a few peanuts in the shell as he walked by, I dare say everyone we interacted within Scotiabank Arena was endearingly pleasant.
I’m sure there were some yutzes among the 19,037 who packed the place, but I was hard-pressed to find them.
Which made for a lovely environment, though not entirely what I expected for such a rivalry as Leafs-Canadiens. There were no shortage of red, white, and blue jerseys with the C on the chest in the building, but if there was bad blood between fans that too went unnoticed. Mainly they sat side-by-side, drank their beers, and enjoyed the game.
Perhaps it was the Blue Jays’-effect.
We Went for Hockey but a Baseball Game Broke Out
Fans were provided frequent updates on the Blue Jays from Yankee Stadium.
Make no mistake, we were there to see the Maple Leafs take on their countrymen from Quebec, the Montreal Canadiens. By the way, the nickname Canadiens is spelled with an ‘e’ rather than ‘a’ because it is the French spelling of Canadiens e.g. le Club de hockey Canadien. Thus the difference between Candiens and Canadians (English spelling). Also the ‘H’ on the jerseys is not, as commonly misinterprested, for les Habitants but rather for Hockey.
Sorry for the digression:-)
As I was saying, we were there for hockey but many of those gathered had at least one eye on their devices most of the night checking the score from the Bronx where the Blue Jays were trying to eliminate the Yankees.
The scoreboard operator got into the act as the games went on, showing portions of the Jays-Yankees game during media timeouts in Scotiabank Arena.
Ultimately, following the Maple Leafs’ 5-2 victory, the baseball game was broadcast on the over-ice video board as well as the concourse monitors (Rogers Communications owns both franchises). I’d estimate 8,000 or more fans remained to see the final innings of the Blue Jays’ game.
And There Was Hockey
The Maple Leafs’ celebrate Morgan Rielly’s eventual game-winning goal during the third period.
And it was a good one!
The teams traded goals in each of the first two periods before the Leafs’ Morgan Rielly scored the eventual game-winner about nine minutes into the third period. Toronto’s Auston Matthewsand William Nylander added empty-net goals in the final two minutes to complete the scoring.
Much like the Hockey Hall of Fame where it hits the right notes for fans of all ages, the staff at Scotiabank Arena understand its audience as well. While Carlton the Bear mascot is here, there, and everywhere – including up on a scissor lift waving a flag – there’s not too much schlock involved with the overall production. The main thing (hockey) was the main thing as I’d think is probably the case in Montreal, Ottawa, Winnipeg, Calgary, Edmonton, and Vancouver.
Sure, this is entertainment, but it’s also the beloved national sport of Canada and there seemed to be some intentionality – at least on Opening Night – to ensure hockey was the focal point.
Well, at least when baseball wasn’t;-)
A Few Final Shots
Clockwise from upper left, Carlton the Bear on a scissor lift getting the crowd fired up; the view of center ice; Leafs’ goalie Anthony Stolarz puts his hand gear back on following a break; my traveling partner, Jim, mugs for the camera with Carlton in the background (note the Olde English D); the Maple Leafs with a third period power play; the Maple Leafs share Scotiabank Arena with the Toronto Raptors, who’ve won more titles this century (one) than the Leafs; Hall of Fame Canadiens’ goalie Ken Dryden, who went on to serve as GM of the Maple Leafs was honored with a video tribute prior to the game following his death on September 5.
The capstone of any trip to the Hockey Hall of Fame is a visit to the Great Hall where all of the trophies are housed and the enshrinees are highlighted. I plan to see the Stanley Cup once more during my Around the World in 80 Sporting Events project, when its presented to the 2027 NHL Champion’s captain during my 80th and final event. (Photo by Jim Livingston)
Hockey is not my native sport.
You see where I’m from – Indiana – we melt the snow and ice in our backyards and driveways so that we can shoot hoops all winter long. And then, during the summer, we squeeze in some of America’s Pastime, while the hardwood or blacktop is being resurfaced.
But hockey, nah, not really my thing.
Sure, we had the Fort Wayne Komets in our backyard and we’d go to games occasionally, but it was a sport I simply didn’t understand nor did my father or mother or anyone in my extended family that I can recall.
So when we moved to suburban Detroit during my 11th year, I was going to need to become a quick study. Afterall, our new home was in St. Clair Shores which billed itself as “Hockeytown USA” long before the Detroit Red Wings co-opted the moniker. Two years later, a SCS kid – Mark Wells – was beating the Soviet Union in what is still probably the most-watched hockey game in the history of the United States.
And yes, I too was glued to my television the evening of February 22, 1980, for ABC’s tape-delayed broadcast of that miracle on ice.
If I wasn’t a hockey fan by then I certainly was afterward.
So when curating a list of 80 iconic events and/or venues to visit during my Around the World in 80 Sporting Eventsproject, a visit to the Hockey Hall of Fame was never in doubt. While my hockey fandom only dates to the late 1970s, I can still appreciate a museum that honors its past while celebrating its future.
That my visit to the Hockey Hall came directly on the heels of my time in Cooperstown, NY, at the Baseball Hall of Fame is a bit of divine providence. I’ve always contended these two shrines hit all the right notes in honoring their nation’s most historically significant sport.
I’m going to give the Hockey Hall the same treatment as I did for Baseball. A few photos that sparked some recollections of my time as a fan. You’ll be able to see the rest of the photographs and video on the full page for Event No. 27 which is found here.
Grand Palaces
From left, artifacts from the Toronto’s Maple Leaf Gardens, Detroit’s Olympia Stadium, and Chicago Stadium.
For the hockey unfamiliar, the NHL was comprised, originally, by six franchises (the Boston Bruins, Chicago Blackhawks, Detroit Red Wings, Montreal Canadiens, New York Rangers, and Toronto Maple Leafs) for 25 seasons (1942-67). These sextet became collectively known, historically, as “The Original Six.”
Each of the Original Six played in grand old palaces (or barns if that’s your style) that are given proper recognition in the Hall’s hallowed halls. Of those six, amazingly I was was able to see hockey played in three of them: Chicago Stadium, Detroit’s Olympia Stadium, and Toronto’s Maple Leaf Gardens. Here are my memories of each:
Chicago Stadium – My memory is haziest about this one, but I believe it was circa 1991-92 season and the Blackhawks opponent was the post-Gretzky and Messier Edmonton Oilers. My lasting memory is of the famous Barton pipe organ and Wayne Messmer‘s singing of the “Star-Spangled Banner.” There was a Chicago fan in the stands who white-knuckled a railing, veins popping in this neck, and screamed the anthem in conjunction with Messmer.
Olympia Stadium – My first-ever NHL game was the Atlanta Flames at Detroit Red Wings on January 20, 1979. It was the final full season of Olympia and I recall being seated in the upper level that featured steep seating and incredibly sticky floors. My 11-year-old self had issues lifting his feet off the floor in the seating area to move, it was so sticky.
Maple Leaf Gardens – My buddy Wayne was working at the now-defunct Sport Detroit Magazine in 1988 and one of his assignments was a feature story on the Red Wings’ recently acquired winger, Miroslav Frycer, who’d previously defected from the former Czechoslovakia and played for a time for the Maple Leafs and Coach John Brophy. Wayne had requested, and received, a pair of press passes for a Red Wings-Maple Leafs preseason game in Toronto. He invited me to join and we had seats in the press box which was in a gondola high above the ice. Afterward, Wayne went to the press scrum with Brophy to ask about Frycer and received the following quote: “#&*% Mirsolav Frycer!” And that was the end of the interview. We got in Wayne’s car and drove four hours back to Michigan.
Paul Kariya, University of Maine
Paul Kariya was the face of the Mighty Ducks of Anaheim for the first half of his career and has some memorabilia included within a larger display about the the movie, “The Might Ducks.”
I was the beat writer for the University of Michigan Wolverines’ hockey team for two full seasons, 1991-92 and 1992-93.
The M-Icers, as they were sometimes referred to by a certain sportswriter, were on the ascent during this era. Head Coach Red Berenson, himself a former Wolverine, decided to forego professional coaching where he won the NHL Coach of the Year honor in 1980-81 season with the St. Louis Blues, to set up shop in Ann Arbor and rebuild the Wolverines. It took longer than he’d have liked, but in Berenson’s seventh year the team reached the NCAA Hockey Championships where it advanced to the quarterfinals. The next year it reached the Frozen Four as it did the year after that (my final year on the beat).
The Frozen Four in 1993 was in Milwaukee and Michigan’s opponent in the semifinals was the University of Maine Black Bears which was rated No. 1 the entire season. Leading the charge for Maine – a team loaded with talent – was a hotshot freshman from British Columbia named Paul Kariya. Just 18-years-old during the season his on-ice skills were unequaled. He finished the the year with 100 points, scoring 25 goals and assisting on 75 others in just 39 games en route to winning the Hobey Baker Award.
Maine won that game 4-3 in overtime – and the championship two nights later against Lake Superior State – to claim its first-ever NCAA title and finish the season 42-1-2. It’s considered by many to be the greatest college hockey season in history.
Less-than-a-year later I saw Kariya again, on my television, as a player for Team Canada in the 1994 Lillehammer Olympics where Canada lost 3-2 in a shootout to Sweden for the Gold Medal. Kariya’s shootout attempt was stopped in the seventh round by Swedish goalie, Tommy Salo, allowing Sweden the victory.
I then watched him for the next 15 years in the NHL with the Ducks, Colorado Avalanche, Nashville Predators, and St. Louis Blues. He was a 2-time Lady Byng Memorial Trophy recipient (most sportsmanship and gentlemanly conduct combined with a high standard of play) and a 2017 inductee in the Hockey Hall of Fame.
He was the first hockey player I could say, “I saw play back when they were just starting out.”
“I was just trying to capture the spirit of the moment.”
“Slap Shot” was a cult classic for those of us in the pressbox at the University of Michigan’s Yost Ice Arena.
I noted that I spent two-plus seasons on the University of Michigan hockey beat for the Ann Arbor News.
While the hockey team was on the rise during my era on the beat, it was certainly no U-M football or basketball team in terms of media coverage, so we who trudged up the staircase to the pressbox high atop Yost Ice Arena each weekend were a close-knit group.
And because we were fairly well removed from the spectators, we found a certain level of, shall I say, latitude with the conversations we were able to engage in. One of our go-tos during this era was almost a choral recitation of scenes from the minor league hockey-based cult movie classic, Slap Shot. Though I’m not sure any movie starring Paul Newman could be considered a cult classic, it sure as shootin’ wasn’t mainstream any longer. The fact that it had been released in the theaters 15 years earlie meant that most of us in the press box had only seen it on VHS tapes.
Anyhow, one of us with mutter a line from the movie and away we’d go with the scene.
Our favorite, of course, was Dickie Dunn (played by M. Emmet Walsh), the local sportswriter whose go-to line was always, “I tried to capture the spirit of the moment.”
I’m willing to bet that by me writing: “I am personally placing a hundred-dollar bounty on the head of Tim McCracken. He’s the head coach and chief punk on that Syracuse team.”
Someone reading this will be able to complete the scene with broadcaster Jim Carr’s line and the response from player/coach Reg Dunlop (Newman’s character).
A Golden Moment
The goal, stick, and puck from Sidney Crosby’s “Golden Goal,” the Gold Medal game-winner of the 2010 Vancouver Olympics over the USA.
Beyond the USA-Soviet 1980 Lake Place Olympic semifinal, perhaps one of the greatest hockey games I ever watched was the Gold Medal Game between the host Canadians and the USA in the 2010 Vancouver Olympics.
Team USA won the pool play match, 5-3, and forced Canada to take the long road to the Medal Round. The rematch was a beauty. Canada jumped out to a 2-0 lead by the midpoint of the second period before the United States got on the board later that frame. With the U.S. goalie, Ryan Miller, pulled Zach Parise scored an equalizer with 25 seconds left in the third period to force overtime.
That’s when a kid named Sidney Crosby scored 7:40 into the extra session to walk it off … a Golden Goal as it was.
During my Conversation with Mike “Doc” Emrick, he said this was his most memorable moment on the microphone as he called the game for NBC Sports.
If it was good enough for Doc, well, it’s good enough for me.
Hear Doc Emrick’s call of Crosby’s Gold Medal-winner.
Doc Emrick in the Hall
Doc Emrick’s Foster Hewitt Award honor in the Hockey Hall’s Great Hall.
During the past three-plus years I’ve hosted my podcast, Conversations with Sports Fans, I’ve published 225 episodes as of this writing. Along the way, I’ve had the pleasure of speaking with all variety of sports fans and/or folks connected with the sports industry. Hands down, however, I was never more anxious/nervous/eager/worried (choose the descriptor of your choosing) than I was when my old pal, Ken Kal, was able to put me in touch with Doc Emrick.
To me, a relative newbie to the world of hockey, Emrick is hockey broadcasting royalty. His equivalencies across the broadcast spectrum in the U.S. would be the likes of Bob Costas, Jim Nantz, Verne Lundquist, or Brent Musburger. All icons in their own right.
He was, as some say in the business, a big get.
He afforded me a half-hour of his time and as we began our chat it became apparent he was a bit off. He had a tickle in his throat and a scratchy cough he could not shake. It seemed he scheduled the bulk of his media appearances on the same day of the month and I came near the end of several hours of speaking. His voice was fading and, as he profusely apologized, he let me know he wouldn’t be able to continue.
I was, understandably, crushed. However, no sooner did he say he’d need to go, he also gave me three possible dates for a re-recording. We found one that worked for both of us and he could not have been a more generous guest who leaned into what I’ve always tried to do at Conversations … learn how my guest became a sports fan and take them on a journey through their lifetime highlights.
And let me tell you, Doc Emrick has some highlights!
He was my first and, hopefully, not my last Hall of Fame honoree from the four major North American sports. So, yeah, I lingered a bit longer in front of his glass plate recognizing him as the Hockey Hall’s 2008 Foster Hewitt Award Recipient.
If you’ve not yet listened to the Doc Emrick Conversation, I invite you to do so at this link. It’s a half hour well spent.
A Final Look
It’s incredibly difficult to capture the beauty of the Hockey Hall’s Great Hall with a camera phone. This is my best shot.
As I bide my time overnight in Union Station waiting for my 6:50 a.m. to Windsor, I figured I’d get a few photos out to you.
It was a wild day to be sure: Train from Windsor to Toronto, an hour of pregame atmosphere soak within the stadium, a tense 3-hour game, and the letdown from what might have been … in just three pitches.
Anyhow, some of what my bleary eyes liked the look of are below. (Formatting tol get cleaned up on a computer later.)
And, before you ask, the current get-in-the-door for Game 7 two sections over from where I was for Game 6, currently lists for $800 Canadian more than what I paid for this one. My budget doesn’t allow for a repeat:-( If you’d like to Venmo me however …
The CN Tower post-game.Me on the 200 Level.Dodgers shake hands. Light show before the bottom of the 9th. The flag for “Oh Canada” was massive. A more subdued look for “The Star-Spangled Banner.”Me on the 500 Level. The FOX Sports fellas and the trophy. The fans were optimistic pre-game. My passerby photographer did not pass the assignment:-(I reached out to a guy I know … The marquee out front. My first look at the CN Tower and Rogers Centre through a dirty skywalk window.
Dad and I out front of the National Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, NY.
I made mention to a friend recently that if I lived about three hours closer, I’d probably visit the National Baseball Hall of Fame monthly.
A bit hyperbolic?
Perhaps, but I can assure you if it wasn’t an 8-hour drive from where I reside, I’d be there at least quarterly. And if I lived within a couple hours I’d seriously consider volunteering.
And it’s not just the Hall of Fame – my own personal version of Shangri-La – it’s the entire village of Cooperstown, NY, that I adore.
It’s the single stoplight town, the flag pole in the center Main Street that passes for a roundabout, the (mainly) baseball-themed shops up and down that same Main Street, the quirky – and delicious! – diners and restaurants throughout, the scenery around Otsego Lake.
It’s all of it!
When plotting my Around the World in 80 Sporting Events project there was never a doubt a visit to the Baseball Hall would make the list. Never mind that I’d already been there four times previously.
And that’s my message to anyone reading this today: Go!
If you’ve never been … go!
If you have been before … go, again!
The exhibits are constantly being refreshed, the movie in the Grandstand Theater changes fairly regularly, and each July new inductees are enshrined.
There, I’ll step off my soapbox and share a bit of my recent visit as Event No. 26 of this long and winding road of sports fandom I’ve chosen to undertake. And, because I could write a fairly lengthy post about this place, I’ve decided to post a few of the many images I captured that sparked something in me and reflect on those. Don’t worry, I’ll post the rest of my photos and a couple videos soon on the full page of Event No. 26.
HoFer Stemware
Ryne Sandberg’s stemware at The Otesaga. It features a white rose because Sandberg passed away the day after the most-recent Induction Ceremony.
During each successive visit to Cooperstown I try to do something new.
This year, because we had a bit of time Friday following our drive from New York City, my dad and I decided to save the Hall of Fame visit for Saturday and do the other things we hoped to accomplish that afternoon.
Among our stops were many of the shops along Main Street, a visit to the Leatherstocking Golf Course, and an early dinner in The Otesaga Resort Hotel‘s Hawkeye Bar & Grill. It was our first time inside the venerable old inn that houses all the living Hall of Famers each July during Induction Weekend.
Both my father and I enjoyed the showcase (two, actually) featuring personalized stemware with the name of each living Hall of Famer and their number inscribed on the glass. There were three glasses with a white rose in the bowl. Each member of the Hall who died between Induction Ceremonies is honored with a white rose in their glass before it’s retired and, presumably, given to the family. There were roses in the glasses of Rickey Henderson, Dave Parker, and Ryne Sandberg. In Sandberg’s case, he died the day following the 2025 Induction Ceremony.
As we enjoyed our sandwiches and some Ryder Cup action in the Hawkeye, it wasn’t too difficult for dad and I to wonder what stories those walls would share if only they could talk.
“The Captain’s” High School Hat
The ballcap of Derek Jeter from Kalamazoo Central High School in western Michigan.
I walked by this artifact thinking it was some Kansas City hat from long ago before doing a u-turn to more closely examine something else in the showcase. That’s when I discovered this hat was actually that of lifetime New York Yankees’ shortstop Derek Jeter‘s from his high school, Kalamazoo (MI) Central.
This is the sort of quirky stuff that I notice during visits that keeps me coming back. If it had been displayed previously I missed it and if it hadn’t, it made me wonder what prompted the curators to put it out now.
A recording of Bob Sheppard introduces Derek Jeter at the 2010 MLB All-Star Game in Anaheim.
And then I thought of the legendary Yankee Stadium public address announcer Bob Sheppard introducing Jeter and how, for the final five years of his playing career following Sheppard’s death in 2010, he still used his recorded introduction during home games.
Duty Calls
St. Louis Cardinals’ player Curt Flood’s letter to then-Commissioner Bowie Kuhn challenging what was known as the “reserve clause.”
The final 14 years of my professional life in K-12 education were spent as my local union’s elected president. When I saw Curt Flood‘s letter to then-Commissioner Bowie Kuhn challenging his ability to be free to play where he wanted following the expiration of his contract it sort of stopped me in my tracks.
I don’t claim to be familiar with all the intricacies of the Flood case, but I do know what it means to take a principled stand for what you believe is right. These 128 words likely cost Flood the remainder of his Major League Baseball career (he sat our the entire 1970 season during the litigation and only played 13 more games in Washington the following the season).
The sad reality is that he lost his case before the U.S. Supreme Court (5-3), but the Court noted that MLB’s “antitrust exemption was tenuous” and, in so doing, helped set in motion widespread free agency in MLB during the next decade.
When I first visited the Hall as a teenager I would have carelessly walked by this letter. Now, however, to be this close to a piece of labor rights history was awe-inspiring.
Perfect No More
The Comerica Park bag from first base of the missed out call by umpire Jim Joyce that cost Tigers’ pitcher Armando Galarraga a perfect game.
June 2, 2010 was a Wednesday night and, as a fourth grade teacher, I was working through finishing up grading work and getting things situated for the final couple weeks of the school year. As always during that era the Detroit Tigers’ game was on the television in the background.
As the game moved forward, I noticed the line score after – I believe – the sixth inning and saw Tigers’ journeyman starter, Armando Galarraga, hadn’t allowed a hit. Suddenly, my work rate slowed in direct relation to my game attention rate increasing.
And then, it happened, in the top of the ninth inning, Cleveland’s Luke Donald hit a slow roller wide of first base, Miguel Cabrera nabbed it and tossed it to Galarraga who was covering the bag.
Out! A perfect game! The 21st in MLB history and the second within a week (Phillies’ pitcher Roy Halladay tossed one May 29 against the Marlins).
The footage of the final non-out of Armando Galarraga’s imperfect perfect game.
Yes, inexplicably as replays showed over – and over! – Joyce called Donald safe in the days before instant replay challenges existed and Galarraga’s perfecto was kaput. He then retired Trevor Crowe on a groundout to finish the 3-0 victory.
And there, in front of me behind glass at the Hall, was the base from that game. Sure, there are other artifacts from perfect games, but none is as unique as this one from a uniquely imperfect perfect game.
The Voice of My Adolescence
Radio broadcaster Ernie Harwell was – and is to this day – a Detroit treasure.
The Hall is comprised not just of on-field artifacts, there’s a small wing devoted to the journalists who cover it, both print and broadcast.
Longtime Detroit Tigers’ broadcaster Ernie Harwell was the 1981 Ford C. Frick Award recipient for his broadcasting work – and he still had 21 more years to go!
He was, in many ways, the voice of my adolescence as I’d listen to he and longtime partner Paul Carey tell stories and describe the action from whereever the Tigers’ happened to be playing send off to slumber more times than I can recall.
Having the opportunity to caddie in a foursome that included Harwell and Tigers’ manager – and Hall of Famer – Sparky Andersoncontinues to be a memory I hold dear from the magical summer of 1984 and wrote about here two years ago.
Sho-Time
This lenticular-style display shows Shohei Ohtani from all angles and on all teams.
I’ll leave you with this one from the newest exhibit to open, Yakyu-Baseball.
Yakyu, which is Japanese for baseball, is a big salute to baseball on both sides of the Pacific Ocean and how those two worlds have merged during the past half century.
One of the centerpieces in this area is an oversized lenticular-style card (e.g. motion) of current Los Angeles Dodgers’ superstar, Shohei Ohtani. In the middle is his No. 17 Dodgers’ jersey and Angels’ hat, but as you look at it from the left, center, and right, you see three different images: the first is of him for Team Japan during the 2023 World Baseball Classic, the middle is of him as a Dodger mid-swing, and the final is of him as an Angel pitching.
The display fascinated me for multiple reasons. First, it was a throwback to my days of youth when I’d encourage mom to buy Kellogg’s brand cereals in order to nab one of their lenticular-style cards. Second, it allowed me to marvel for a moment at what Ohtani is accomplishing in real time before my eyes. Finally, because it was a topic of conversation when I visited Tokyo in May and watched a Nippon Professional Baseball game, how much better was Ohtani compared to his leaguemates in Japan when he was playing there?
A Final Look
Don’t forget to head to the east side of the Otsego Lake for the chance to see the setting sun, here from Lakewood Cemetery.
