I once served as MC at a local fundraiser in my village that featured a comedy act, a hypnotist and a another lady who told fortunes by reading tea leaves, by examining palms and interpreting earthly fate, through the magic of tarot cards.
In my self deprecating style I was a hit, after initially telling a white lie that I had been to the mind reader years ago and that she predicted I would get fat, lose my hair, get laid off by my company and watch my wife trade me in for a subscription to the Oprah magazine. I had them rolling on the floor until I forgot to introduce the special guest, who would leadus in prayer before dining. I quickly recovered by covering my butt with "that's what you get for hiring a hungry Protestant" in a roomful of devout Catholics. I was not hit by lightning and the evening was a rousing success.
If you have followed my sports columns you will long since noticed a trend where I like to pick winners and support my theories with trends, stats and the intuition that only we stroke victims possess.
I knew with every fibre in my being the Stampeders would gun us down like I would if a rabid coyote was munching on my house cat, but I forgot the intangible part of what makes sports so intriguing and unpredictable.
It's called heart. I am the ultimate Devil's advocate at times - especially when it comes to the Riders, but when the smoke cleared in Cow Town, Durant had once again made me look foolish.
Anyone who has ever played organized football, or any other sport for that matter, knows there are moments in the game when you dig down for something that is hidden deep in your core. A pass that is seemingly going to be well over-thrown sends you into "automatic cruise control" and while you thought you were running full bore suddenly you find another gear and make the catch. Or maybe that's just me.
The Riders have revenge on their mind, which is an honest emotion after such an unsettling loss to Montreal last year. We blew it. Protestants get second chances at redemption like everyone else.
Much like the match up against Calgary, the Alouettes' roster suggests they should dominate us. The weather is supposed to be a balmy -5 C so there is no need for fur lined jock straps, but even the pleasant forecast means the ground game will be crucial, and with all due respect to Wes Cates - most CFL experts and journalists place Montreal's Avon Cobourne one notch above Cates in most categories. FYI, a little known stat shows their individual average gain per carry is identical and Cates puts more total yards on the board.
Cates also has clairvoyance about him and picks up an invisible blitzing safety like he might be reading tarot cards in the off-season.
Fantuz will not be shut down two games in a row and Clermont and the sensational Cary Koch are big plays waiting to happen. Add in Getzlaf and diminutive Weston Dressler and Durant has ample targets. Dressler reminds me of one of my son's pals, who needs a booster seat to see over the steering wheel, but would kick your rear end if you ever mentioned it.
Last year, we beat ourselves and if we lose it this year it will all rest on the philosophical world view of my dear friend, teacher mentor and CFL hero Ronnie Lancaster, who once said to me after a tough high school loss-"Hammer you never lose a game sometimes the clock runs out before you have time to beat 'em."
It is my firm belief the Rider fan base is like an electrical conduit to the engine that drives the team - like a turbo charger on a pimped up muscle car. When the time comes our prayers, hopes and spirit will play a role. Send out your vibes - you gotta believe before you can succeed
