Ah, football season is well underway, and I can't help but be pleased with how things have gone so far.
I didn't think the Lions could do it again this year, but they've surprised me. With November just around the corner, they lead the league with a highly respectable 11-3 record, and the relatively inexperienced Jarious Jackson has valiantly filled the shoes of superstar quarterback and former league MOP Dave Dickenson.
Of course, the arrival of commissioner Mark Cohon and his crackdown on player misconduct have ruffled some feathers, but most would agree the season has gone smoothly so far. With some tight divisional races and only four weeks left, it looks like we can expect some exciting matchups and a gem of a championship game on Nov. 25.
Wait.
If this portrait of your beloved football league sounds a bit off, it's probably because your league is not my league.
Your league thinks small. Mine thinks big.
Your league shuns creativity and expressive behavior. My league embraces 12-player touchdown celebrations and unlimited pot-smoking.
Your league's team names are highly offensive to Native Americans. My league's team names are only moderately offensive to Native Americans, and we have brands of beer named after ours to make up for it.
Your league is slow, dull and infantile. My league is fast, exciting and rich with history.
My league is the Canadian Football League.
Now before you pass judgment on the brand of football that predates and out-rates the petty excuse for sport you call the NFL, let me explain to you why your northerly neighbors have the right stuff.
The CFL field is longer, wider and populated by more players - that means more complicated plays for longer yardage. The defense lines up one full yard from the line of scrimmage, making thrilling last-and-one conversions more common. Add that to an offensive backfield that can move however it likes before the snap and you've got yourself one thick playbook.
In the NFL, touchdown celebrations lead to yardage penalties and heavy fines, stifling player expression; the CFL allows theatrics involving the entire team. Chad Johnson's famous Riverdance looks like your sister's ballet recital next to Jeremaine Copeland's five-man receiving corps simulated bobsleigh run, and both pale in comparison to the Toronto Argonauts' "grenade" throw and ensuing 12-man "death."
NFL coaches are hacks, and your spineless rules don't call them out on it. When they're not cheating, they're delaying games with excessive timeouts and running out clocks by taking knees. Not in the CFL. With only 20 seconds before the snap and three downs instead of four, even the most cowardly CFL coach can only run off 40 seconds without gaining a first down. And with a three-minute warning at the end of each half during which the clock stops after every play, CFL endgames are infinitely more exciting.
The CFL, like the rest of Canada, is tolerant of all people, regardless of ethnicity. The NFL has 68 Redskins, 64 Chiefs and no shame. Granted, the CFL does have the Edmonton Eskimos, but we've also got the Winnipeg Blue Bombers, whose name inspired Labatt Blue, the most popular Canadian beer in the world. Somehow, "Cowboys Light" doesn't sound as ... appetizing.
And then there's Ricky Williams. Not only did the Toronto Argonauts sign your tired, your poor, your huddled running back yearning to puff free, they benched the Heisman-winning, NFL-rushing-yard-leading Pro Bowl MVP, who scored two touchdowns in 11 games and still praised the city of Toronto. That same season, talented Argo quarterback Damon Allen broke Warren Moon's all-time passing yards record at the ripe age of 43, making Brett Favre look like a spring chicken. And you were going to say the CFL had no talent, eh?
So get in your car, cross the border and head to the Rogers Centre in downtown Toronto. Exchange your Benjamins for some now-stronger Loonies, buy a six-pack of Blue - it's legal in Canada at age 18- and watch pro football's oldest and winningest team take the 110-by-65 yard field.
Forget all aboot the Not-Football League.
Chaz Firestone '10 is the great, white north.
