Watching a Winter Olympics men’s hockey game that set ablaze my central nervous system, I was reminded of a 1977 cinematic classic — Smokey and the Bandit.
Burt Reynolds (playing the role of the Bandit in Oscar-worthy fashion) had some unanticipated company for a cross-continental car ride, in the form of a runaway bride named Carrie (Sally Field).
In a moment of unease, Carrie lit a cigarette, prompting The Bandit to dispense some sound advice: “You ought to give up smoking. That’s bad for your health.”
To which Carrie responded: “But I (cough) enjoy it (cough) so much (cough).”
Welcome, dear reader, to a Sunday morning in the life of the Saskatchewan Roughriders’ resident Senior Journalist (translation: old) and Historian (very old).
As Canada opposed the United States with a gold medal at stake, I squirmed and sighed and gasped and groaned … and ultimately lamented the Americans’ 2-1 overtime victory.
Several hours elapsed and I could still feel the tension in my shoulders, the ache in my increasingly conspicuous forehead, the disappointment that reflected the deflation of a nation.
At point, I asked myself: “Why do I watch sports when it can do this to me?”
Because I (cough) enjoy it (cough) so much (cough).
Just like that, I was reminded of Nov. 16, 2025.
On that Sunday in Winnipeg, the Roughriders defeated the Montreal Alouettes 25-17 to win the fifth Grey Cup championship in franchise history.
It was a spectacle to savour — beginning at 9:46 p.m.
Until then, I was a nervous wreck. The fingernails were gone by the third quarter. So was most of the halftime press-box pizza, shamelessly Hoovered by yours truly at Princess Auto Stadium.
The tension did not abate until the final play, when Roughriders cornerback Marcus Sayles punctuated his practically perfect post-season by knocking down the Alouettes’ final, desperation pass.
Absolutely spent at that stage, I couldn’t do anything but exhale and check my pulse.
Since then, life has been a dream. (Yes, even including Sunday morning.)
Riding the Grey Cup high for nearly 100 days — for the first time as an employee of the Roughriders — is an experience like none other.
The excitement is partially attributable to the recognition that the pendulum can so easily swing in the other direction.
Roughriders fans do not have to be reminded, having endured heartbreaking Grey Cup losses such as those of 1972, 1976, 2009 and 2010.
The combined margin of defeat in those four games: 10 points.
So close.
The same refrain was heard in 2025, when nine of the Roughriders’ 12 regular-season victories were by margins of eight points or fewer.
Then came the Western Final — in which Saskatchewan defeated the visiting B.C. Lions 24-21 thanks to a last-minute, three-yard touchdown pass from Trevor Harris to Tommy Nield.
The ensuing for-all-the-marbles matchup with Montreal also went down to the wire … of course.
The emotional rollercoaster took me all the way back to Nov. 26, 1989, when the Roughriders defeated the Hamilton Tiger-Cats 43-40 in the most exciting of all 112 Grey Cups.
Included was the unquestioned best second quarter in the history of football.
Saskatchewan and Hamilton traded touchdowns over a span of five consecutive possessions.
The Tiger-Cats and their devotees were still celebrating a touchdown by Derrick McAdoo when Saskatchewan began (and ended) the next series with a 75-yard touchdown bomb from Kent Austin to Jeff Fairholm.
Halftime provided a much-needed respite for the players and attendees.
Until intermission, it had not occurred to me that I was squeezing a protective metal bar that was in front of my seat.
My knuckles were white.
The first attempt at flexing my fingers was futile.
The second one was painful.
Circulation was restored just in time for the second half.
The back-and-forth affair culminated in a 35-yard, game-winning field goal by Dave Ridgway.
Only then could I sit back and enjoy a game that cost well over $1,000, factoring in the cost of flights, accommodations, meals (alas, no free pizza) and a ticket.
But here’s the thing: I have been enjoying the result ever since.
Thirty-six years and counting.
Rewind even further and you have Paul Henderson’s Summit Series-winning goal from Sept. 28, 1972.
A black-and-white photo (see again: old) of that magical moment in Canadian history appeared on the TV screen as part of the preamble to Sunday’s gold-medal final.
If you were alive at the time, you remember exactly where you where, and exactly what you did, when Foster Hewitt memorably exclaimed “Henderson has scored for Canada!”
The passage of time does not alter the clarity of recollections pertaining to Henderson’s heroics, Ridgway’s field goal, Sidney Crosby’s “golden goal” (as described by Chris Cuthbert), et cetera.
Decades from now, Harris-to-Nield will still be replayed. It will still produce goose bumps.
So will the image, or even the slightest reminder, of that final deflection by Sayles.
Yes, Sunday’s outcome took the wind out of Canada’s sails, and there will be a recuperation period for those of us with allegiances to the Maple Leaf.
That is part of the bargain for anyone who follows sports with some ardour.
This isn’t Hollywood. A happy ending — such as the satisfying conclusion to Smokey and the Bandit — doesn’t always materialize.
But when your side does prevail, one is reminded of Jackie Gleason (who played Sheriff Buford T. Justice in the aforementioned motion picture) and his signature phrase.
“How sweet it is!”