Since Grey Cup Week is upon us, I would like to relate a CFL story that happened to me in the mid-1980s.

Back then I worked for the Ontario Provincial Government in its Sports and Fitness Branch. Though I mostly dealt with fitness, every spring when the Ministry had its annual Sports Awards Banquet honoring Ontario’s amateur athletes. I was called upon to help set up the banquet at the Four Seasons Sheraton Hotel on Queen Street, opposite Toronto City Hall.

Stuff for the banquet would be stored in my office the night before, and the next day I had to load it into a van and accompany it to the hotel where I would unload it and help set it up.

At the end of the banquet, I would help dismantle the exhibits, load them back in the van, and the next day unload the van and store the stuff in my room until whoever the stuff belonged to came and took it. In return, I was allowed to attend the banquet.

Though the banquet was to honor Ontario’s amateur athletes, sometimes members of one of Toronto’s professional sports teams were asked to be head table guests.

Because the Maple Leafs were bad through most of the 1980s, it was usually members of the Blue Jays or Argonauts who were asked to participate. In this particular year, two members of the Toronto Argonauts were to be head table guests.

The day before the banquet, the stuff for the exhibits was brought to my room. One curious item was a rickety, old, taped-up, cardboard box, about two feet high with a square base.

It looked like it was ready to fall apart, and I figured it couldn’t hold anything heavy, but to my surprise, it weighed 10 or 20 pounds when I picked it up.

I thought, “What the hell is this thing?”

I grumbled to myself because it would be an uncomfortable burden to lug around. I wondered why it was so heavy and tried to see what was inside through the clear tape, but I couldn’t make out what was in it. So I shrugged my shoulders and forgot about it.

Next day, I brought up the cart and started loading it. I remember sighing with relief when I lightly tossed that box on to the cart. As I had thought, it was the most awkward and uncomfortable thing of everything I loaded.

I took the cart down to the garage loading dock and tossed everything into the van, including the box. Then I dropped off the cart, got my suit, and rode in the van down to the hotel. After checking my suit into one of the Ministry’s rooms, I went down to the banquet area, unloaded the van, and brought the stuff into the banquet hall. The room was huge, holding enough tables for 1,200 people.

I began to unloading the cart, placing the different parts of the exhibit where directed. When I asked where the box was to be placed, to my surprise, I was told to put it on the stage.

I frowned with annoyance. There was no way I could push the cart through the dinner tables to the stage, so that meant I had to carry the box instead, which meant walking about half way across the width of a football field.

Reluctantly, I picked up the heavy thing and lugged it to the front. I tossed it unceremoniously and with gratitude on to the stage, to the relief of my aching arms, and muttered “good riddance” to myself.

Then I stalked back and finished my setup work, and then my duties were done until the banquet began. I went back to the Ministry’s rooms, changed into my suit and relaxed and socialized with a few drinks until dinner time.

Then I went down to the banquet, did a few final jobs and ate.

After dinner, the speeches began. The Minister was host and the Master of Ceremonies was the Assistant Deputy Minister, Bob Secord. He made a long speech, relating all the achievements Ontario’s amateur athletes had performed in the past year, and all the things that the Ministry was doing to assist and promote athletics.

Then he said something like this:

“Not only are our amateur athletes performing well, but our professional teams are doing well now, with the exception of those who toil at Church and Carleton. But the Blue Jays are now contenders! (applause) And the Argonauts won the Grey Cup!”

And while everyone was clapping and cheering, he pointed across the stage, and there on a table, under a spotlight, in front of the stage, was the Grey Cup. The Argonauts at the head table had brought the Grey Cup with them.

After the speeches were concluded, everyone stood up, walked around, and stretched their legs. Lots of people went over to the table where the Grey Cup was and some began to pick it up. Seeing this, I lost no time going over and picking it up myself. This was in the period before the CFL put a big base on it. It was still fairly heavy, but I didn’t care because I was so excited.

I thought, “Wait till I get home and tell everyone I picked up the Grey Cup!”

I wondered if anyone would believe me, but I couldn’t wait to tell them. I wished I had brought a camera with me.

Anyway, once the dinner was finished, I had to take all the stuff that I had brought and load it back into the van. As I went to get the cart, I thought, “There’s one thing I want to see. I want to see who comes for the Grey Cup. I want to see the security measures for it. I want to see what they keep it in.”

Every time I had seen the Grey Cup Game on television, it was carried into the stadium by Mounties, so I was curious to see what would happen to it. I was expecting reverential treatment and tight security. I wanted to see the fancy case they kept it in.

Well, you can probably guess what happened.

Somebody came out on the stage with that rickety, old, taped-up cardboard box, pointed to the Grey Cup, and said, “You! Come and get this thing.”

Yes, CFL fans. For several hours, I had been the possessor of one of Canada’s two most famous trophies. All along I had been its guardian and I didn’t even know it. I had picked it up and lugged it begrudgingly around the banquet hall. I had tossed it without a thought onto carts, and off again. I hadn’t cared whether there was anything valuable in that box that could break or not.

I was expecting Mounties. I was expecting a fancy travelling case. Instead there was only a rickety, old, taped-up, cardboard box. So much for being a Canadian icon.

You can bet I loaded that box with a lot more care this time. I placed it, instead of tossing it, on the cart and in the van. And next morning, I placed it on the cart again when I unloaded the van and placed it in my room. And I untaped the box and pulled it out occasionally to have a few final looks at it. I never did see who eventually came and got it.

After it was gone, I also reflected what I could have done. If only I had owned a car.

You see, the Grey Cup stayed in that box in that van wherever it was parked for the rest of that night until I unloaded it the next morning.

But if I had known that it was going back to my room the next morning directly without any inspection, who would have paid attention to someone getting on the Queen streetcar with a rickety old box and a suit?

It would have been tough to do, but who would have been any wiser if the Grey Cup had spent the night at my house and was brought back to my room the next morning?

I would have placed it reverently in a place of honor on my dining room table and started taking pictures.

Even though it was late at night, I would have called up everybody I knew and told them to get down to my house right away.

But it was heavy and it would have been tough to get it home while also carrying my suit and tough to get it back next morning while carrying it up and down subway stairs.

Of course, if the alarm had sounded, I might have been accused of kidnapping.

But I did something most CFL fans and ex-players never got to do and what most current CFL players continue to dream about. I have many fond CFL memories but the one I have a special sentiment about was the time, without playing a single CFL football game, that the Grey Cup was awarded to me.

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