Okay so my dad has this thing where he won’t talk to his brother for a full week after the Bombers beat the Riders. Grown man, sixty-three years old, successful accountant, refuses to answer phone calls from his own sibling over a football game. I used to think he was being ridiculous. Then I moved to Winnipeg for work and accidentally became a Bombers fan and now I completely understand. Last Thanksgiving was awkward as hell. We ate turkey in silence while my uncle wore his green jersey like a protest sign.
That’s CFL fandom though. It gets under your skin in ways that don’t make logical sense. The league is small, the budgets are tight, half my American friends don’t even know it exists. But the people who care? They care with an intensity that borders on concerning. And lately I’ve noticed the competition spreading way beyond just watching games. Fantasy leagues, prediction contests, the whole betting scene that’s taken off since legalization. My roommate can’t watch a single play without his phone out tracking odds and checking his picks. He’s gotten really into swiper over the past few months and says the thrill of having something at stake makes even boring Thursday games feel electric. I get it honestly. When there’s competition involved – real stakes, whatever form that takes – your brain locks in differently. You’re not just watching anymore. You’re participating.
Rivalries here actually mean something
I need to explain something to anyone who only follows American sports. NFL rivalries are mostly marketing. Cowboys versus whoever, it’s manufactured drama for TV ratings. CFL rivalries? These things are real. They’re geographic. They’re personal. Your cousin married someone from Calgary and now Christmas dinner is a battlefield.
Labour Day weekend is basically a religious holiday in Saskatchewan. The Banjo Bowl the week after is its angry sequel. Families plan vacations around these games. People call in sick to work. I watched a guy propose to his girlfriend at halftime of Riders-Bombers last year and half the crowd booed because she was wearing blue.
MatchupThe real beefHow fans actRiders vs BombersPrairie supremacy, family divisionsNine hour drives to away games, silence at holidaysArgos vs Ti-CatsToronto versus Hamilton class warfareHighway tailgates, actual fistfights reportedStampeders vs ElksAlberta oil money ego battlesCorporate sponsorship becomes personalLions vs the entire leagueWest coast persecution complexConstant defense of why CFL matters
You can’t manufacture this stuff. Decades of close games, shared geography, intermarried families. The competition isn’t just on the field. It’s woven into how people relate to each other.
Everyone’s running a side competition now
Here’s what changed in the past five years or so. Used to be you’d watch your team, celebrate or complain, move on with your week. Now everybody I know has some kind of parallel competition running. Fantasy CFL is huge now. My office has a league that’s been going for four seasons. The guy who wins gets his lunch bought for a month. The guy who loses has to wear the winner’s team jersey to work. Sounds dumb but people genuinely study for it. I’ve seen spreadsheets. Actual spreadsheets tracking receiver targets and weather patterns.
Pick’em pools are everywhere too. My family group chat runs one where you predict every game against the spread. No money involved, just pride. Somehow that makes it more intense? My mom talks trash now. My sixty-year-old mother sends GIFs mocking my picks. The competition infected everyone.
The stadium thing is its own contest
Going to games has competitive layers. Tailgate setups compete for attention – people bring smokers, projection screens, elaborate tent cities. Goal isn’t just to party, it’s to have the best setup in the lot. Fan sections try to out-noise each other. Winnipeg had that sellout streak. Rider fans invade opposing stadiums in numbers that affect home field advantage. These become bragging points lasting years. Even social media turned competitive. Best fan video, loudest crowd moment, most creative sign. Teams encourage it with hashtag contests. Everything feeds the competitive instinct.
Why this actually matters
CFL isn’t competing with NFL. The money isn’t there, star power isn’t there, Americans barely acknowledge it exists. Fine. That’s not the point. What CFL has is this dense competitive ecosystem where everything feels personal. Your team, your fantasy squad, your predictions, your tailgate, your section’s noise. Layers stacked creating engagement that viewership numbers can’t capture.
My dad still won’t talk to his brother after Rider losses. Probably not healthy. But it means something. The competition matters in ways beyond entertainment. It’s identity, family history, geographic pride wrapped into football. CFL fandom in 2025 is competing on every level. That’s what keeps people coming back when bigger leagues are one click away.