Blue Jay Beginnings: the Jerry Garvin Jersey

As the 2021 Toronto Blue Jays continue their quest for a playoff spot, I've been revisiting my roots with my home team. I've been a fan from the very beginning, and attended that first game in the snow on April 7, 1977. I was in Grade 10 at the time, and my friend Dan and I both got notes from our mothers allowing us to miss an afternoon of school.

I sat in Section 5, Row 5, Seat 27, and the ticket price was $3. To give you an idea of how lousy our seats were, I present the Exhibition Stadium seating chart:

This chart must be from the early '80s sometime, as you can see the price has gone up. Regardless, these are wretched seats. We're just behind the right-field fence; not terrible in and of itself, but because of the stadium's oddball configuration, we're facing the left-field bleachers, not the action. And yes, those aluminum benches weren't exactly comfortable on a zero-degree day in early April.

As befits an expansion team, the 1977 Blue Jays were abysmal and would stay that way for the rest of the '70s. Our heroes were zeroes, but hey, they were ours. A star-crossed Texan named Doug Ault was the franchise's first poster boy, belting two homers in the Jays' 9-5 win over the Chicago White Sox on Opening Day. (He retired in 1980 with a career .236 average and 17 home runs.) Ault was joined by luminaries like Otto "The Swatto" Velez, Sam Ewing and Jeff Byrd, who went 2-13 in his only season in the majors. That '77 team finished 54-107, 45 1/2 games behind the first-place New York Yankees.

Now, for years, I've wanted a powder blue (road) jersey from 1977, with the name and number of a favourite also-ran. I settled on lefty pitcher Jerry Garvin, a career Blue Jay (1977-82) who pitched fairly well in 1977, finishing 10-18 with a 4.19 ERA. Garvin won his first four starts in his rookie season and had a terrific pick-off move. I wanted to commemorate someone who wasn't famous—that part was easy; none of them were—but not completely obscure, either. Somebody who had modest success but wasn't a star, and spent his entire career with the Jays. I also wanted an original Blue Jay, selected in the 1976 expansion draft. Garvin fits the bill on all counts.

The best the Jays Shop (the official team store) could do was a home jersey, early '90s vintage, with player name and number. That wouldn't do. Alas, as I did my research I came to realize that the jersey I'm after never existed historically. Player names didn't appear on the jerseys until 1980. I didn't care. One of my zero-heroes was destined to live on in infamy, and Theodore Jared Garvin was my choice.

But where would I find such an obscure jersey? Obviously it'd have to be custom-made. I thought I had a lead with The Dream Shop, a one-man operation in Pennsylvania who clearly does meticulous and exquisite work. Unfortunately he needed me to provide a blank jersey of the right vintage in my size, which wasn't feasible. I didn't want to hold out for the slim chance that such a rare bird would pop up on eBay. Even if it did, it would've involved more effort and expense than I was willing to put in.

Enter the fine folks at Custom Throwback Jerseys, who were able to deliver a jersey that's very close to the real thing. Here it is (the blurring is an artifact of me not knowing how to use my new phone's camera):

I think you'll agree it's a great-looking uniform. The material is high-quality fabric (100% polyester, double-knit, says the website) and all the details are sewn on, not printed. Even though CTJ is located in Canada, they charge in US dollars, and if you're in Canada HST is charged, also in US dollars. Bit of a bummer, that, but for just over $250 Cdn., I own a very special relic from a bygone era of Blue Jays baseball. I'll wear it to a game for the first time next week, and the first Blue Jay nerd who spots it and knows who Jerry Garvin is gets a free bag of popcorn on me.

The Westbury Wolves Official Playbook

After the frenzy of the CD release, I've been spending my much-needed downtime watching classic Grey Cup games from the '60s and '70s on YouTube. The '60s games were educational because I'd never seen them, but the early '70s are where the memories really start to kick in. The first CFL game I ever watched (on TV) was the 1971 Grey Cup. We had a new colour TV and rotary antenna, and Dad patiently explained the rules to my brother and me as we watched our hometown heroes, the Toronto Argonauts, snatch defeat from the jaws of victory in a heartbreaking 14-11 loss to Calgary.

Fast forward through a lost 1972 season to November 11, 1973 and the Eastern Semi-Final at CNE Stadium. This was my first live game, again with Dad and my brother. Toronto, having finished in second place with a 7-5-2 record, hosted the Montreal Alouettes. We sat in the Grandstand, Section P, I believe, about 20 rows up. With two minutes left in the fourth quarter and the score 10-7 Montreal, the Argos have the ball on the Alouette 24. QB Joe Theismann, in what would be his final game in the CFL, drops back to pass. He finds rookie tight end Peter Muller open at the goal line—for the game-winning touchdown—and Muller drops the ball. The Boatmen tie the game on a field goal, but Montreal rolls over them in overtime, eventually winning 32-10. (Saving grace? The Als would lose the following week to the eventual '73 Grey Cup champion Ottawa Rough Riders.)

Around this time the neighbourhood kids and I started playing touch football, on the street, with modified CFL rules. For one, your average city street lacks goalposts, so we used the hydro wires attached to the telephone poles in lieu. (They were way up there and we were all lousy kickers, so I doubt many field goals were made.) Said telephone poles, about 30 yards apart maybe, also demarcated the goal lines, so our "field" was a tad shorter than the CFL's 110. A regulation CFL field is 65 yards wide; our street, including the sidewalks, might have been 10. If I recall correctly, the sidewalks were in bounds. Mrs. Shaw's lawn was definitely not, as she took great screeching pains to point out whenever the ball landed on it. (Hey, cool it, Mrs. S. At least we never broke your window.) I couldn't throw or kick, but had good hands and was a reliable tight end. Why, in my 12-year-old mind, I could've shown Peter Muller a thing or two.

All our offensive plays were pass plays. Running wasn't allowed, mainly because it would've been pointless in such a confined space. We mostly played against each other but on rare occasions, we'd challenge the kids who lived east of Bicknell Avenue. For these games we had to call ourselves something, hence the Westbury Wolves. And despite the sheer brilliance and cunning of our playbook (see below), as I recall we got our butts kicked whenever we ventured outside the neighbourhood for a not-so-friendly match.

So gather round, kids, and listen carefully, for Grandpa here is about to reveal the best-kept secret in the history of touch football—the Westbury Wolves Official Playbook. If you or your kids play touch football, give these a try. One or two of them might even work once in a blue moon. And if you've never heard of the CFL greats who are their namesakes, do look them up.

And speaking of namesakes: Hedge, Ec, Birdeen, Kojak, Cyc, Stick, Fuzz, the One-armed Bandit, The Ed, Dan & Don, this playbook is dedicated to you. (Yes, one of these is me. No, I'm not telling you which one.)

• Mike Eben: Run forward seven yards, then back two or three.
• Zenon Andrusyshyn: Line up wide left or right. Run forward seven yards, then cut outside.
• Peter Dalla Riva: Run a curl pattern in the shape of a question mark, starting from the bottom.
• Johnny Rodgers: Run forward three yards, stop, jump, then streak downfield.
• Tom Campana: Run forward five yards, cut in sharply for two yards, then cut back out (like a T-shape).
• George McGowan: Similar to the Dalla Riva, but instead of closing the question mark by curling in, run straight across the field.
• Rhome Nixon: Run forward two yards. Accept the short pass from the QB, lateral back to him, then streak downfield.
• Tom Forzani: Line up wide left or wide right. Run a 45-degree slant about five or six yards.

Fast forward, oh, 44 years, and the Argos are back on the CNE grounds, their new home a stone's throw from long-since-demolished CNE Stadium. What's more, the Double Blue are your 2017 Grey Cup champions, victors over Calgary, who themselves snatched defeat from the jaws of victory with a series of improbable blunders. I've rekindled my passion for football and splurged for a season ticket in the cheap seats. See you next June, Section 220! And, um, Coach Trestman? Feel free to borrow from the best.

Summer Potpourri

This month's post is a bit of a mish-mash, as none of what's on my mind merits a full-blown screed. So, in no particular order:

New Covers. "God's Children" (The Kinks), "Late Night" (Syd Barrett), "Lightning Rose" (Jefferson Starship—ongoing Paul Kantner tribute). Coming soon to an open stage. I'm also working up "Moments of the Soft Persuasion" (Peter, Paul and Mary), but not for live performance. Oh, I can get through it okay but this tune, which has an absolute killer chorus, falls flat without harmonies. If I could find a Paul and Mary to sing it with me, I'd sing the Peter bit. In the meantime, I aim to record a version by overdubbing all three vocals. In trying to work through the changes I kept getting stuck on this one chord. Had no idea what it was. I finally isolated what the singers were doing and figured at the very least, those three notes must be constituent parts of the mystery chord. Those were A, C# and F#, all on the second fret. I then randomly wrapped my thumb around the bottom strings on the same fret and as soon as I strummed, I knew I had hit on it. But what was it called? Since my last "secret chord" post I've discovered a handy chord namer. But if you punch in this chord—a shape that frets everything at the second fret but leaves the D-string open—check out the unwieldy names it generates! That's why I call my chords "Am funny," "Fmould" and so on. That said, "Bm9/F#" was both pithy and accurate, so Bm9/F# it shall be. The magic chord occurs between F#m and G at the start of the killer chorus. Try it, you'll love it.

Brexit. David Cameron will go down in infamy as the British PM who irreparably fractured not one but two long-standing geopolitical alliances—the European Union and the UK itself—all for the sake of quelling internal party squabbles. A bit drastic, no? It's also cost him his job, which may not be a bad thing.

Populism. I've had a couple of people tell me that Donald Trump is eminently qualified for the US presidency because "he's not a politician." You've heard these arguments too, I'm sure. Here's what I find odd: if you wanted someone to train your prize race horse and ride it to victory, would you hire an accountant? Is a jockey your go-to guy when preparing your year-end financials? I'm guessing not. So why does prevailing wisdom tell us that politicians are corrupt, incompetent and unfit to govern simply because they're politicians? And were we to elect a plumber, beautician or snake-oil salesman, would he/she not be tarred with the same brush after a term or two in office anyway? I don't get it.

BMO Field. My tailgating concerns aside, the Argos' new home is a winner even if the team isn't yet. I missed last night's opener but took in the preseason game a couple of weeks back, and I loved it. The seating is cozy, intimate and, for those of us old enough to remember CNE Stadium pre-baseball, a throwback to a golden era of Argonaut football. (Pedantic aside: we football fans never, ever called it "Exhibition Stadium." The Blue Jays brought that moniker in 1977. It was and shall forever remain CNE Stadium. More pedantry: the new place is pronounced BEE-mo, not B-M-O.) I've lately been looking at aerial maps, present and historical, to determine where the CNE's north grandstand was in relation to the new digs. We had season tickets for a few years in the '70s and I recall them being in said grandstand, Section D, Row 33. Seats might have been 3 and 4. As far as I can tell, the old grandstand would cut across the south end of BMO Field on an angle of, oh, 60 degrees or so, meaning my CNE seat would be floating in space somewhere around what's now the 20-yard line, near the west sideline. You see, BMO faces directly north/south; CNE Stadium had a broadly NW/SE orientation. That alone made my first visit to BMO a bit jarring, because there I was, in essentially the same place watching the same team, and the views, the atmosphere, everything is almost-but-not-quite like I remember it. We are, after all, talking 40 years later. It's kind of like looking at an old family portrait on a funny angle with 3D glasses, and there's a blank space where Uncle Ted and Aunt Bertha used to be.

CNE Stadium is now a parking lot, with a cracked marker in the middle of it that says "Exhibition Stadium - Home Plate." Useless if you're trying to locate the grandstand, which was so far from the plate that it may as well have been in the next county. Anyway, I dream that someday the city will create a proper memorial for CNE Stadium, even as revisionist historians decry it as the Mistake by the Lake. (Pedantry, final instalment: whatever its flaws, not a soul called it that during its lifetime. The revisionists have borrowed/appropriated the nickname of Cleveland Municipal Stadium.) In the meantime I'll learn to love BMO, tilted angle, missing persons and all. Whether or not you're all misty-eyed over CNE Stadium, BMO Field is a marked improvement over the Argos' former home, the cavernous and sterile Rogers Centre. Which, by the way, I think is an okay venue for baseball. Not stellar, but serviceable.

By the way, here's a fabulous photo of CNE Stadium in its pre-baseball configuration. This was taken on November 25, 1973 at the Grey Cup, two weeks after my first game there, the Eastern Semi-Final between the Argonauts and Montreal Alouettes. And here's the football field in 1976, during the facility's conversion for baseball. I guarantee I would have been at this game, but am not in the photo. Section D was about 15 yards deep in the near end zone and is cropped out of the shot.

Grammar. In the space of 24 hours I've heard two football commentators say something like "The training staff is going to be very precautious." The adjective is "cautious," guys. Sufficient in and of itself; no need for a prefix. You can be very cautious and take precautions, though.