TFC! TFC! TFC!  - plus Butter Tarts and Bowmanville Beer

"Let's go to the TFC game," my buddy Steve asked. "Champions League match, man. Against Tigres."

I hesitated, if just for a moment. There's nothing I wanted to do more than see Toronto FC, fresh off their historic MLS Cup win last year, against the powerful Mexican clubs in North America's top level of soccer competition.

But I had to say no. "I can't do it Steve. I'm flat broke."

That part was painfully true. These are lean times in the landscaping business and I've had to borrow two months in a row to make rent. Any and all major expenses - you know, like beer and food - go on the credit cards, helping to balloon my crippling debt to almost overwhelming proportions.

And as much as I love TFC and want to go to this game, I couldn't justify the expense.

And then Steve threw in the kicker. "I'll buy the ticket," he said.

"You'll buy?" I answered, a bit sceptically. "Yeah," he added, "with the $40 I owe ya."

TFC! with the boys

Now my pal has been good about bringing down a small loan I provided him a while back, chipping in with a few bucks every few weeks or so, but it was always a bit unexpected when I got paid. Kind of like found money, really.

But it was good enough for me. "I'm in," I said.

The easiest way to get the tickets (practically the only way these days) was with a credit card, and as I was the only one with one of those things it was left up to me to make the transaction.

I should point out that technology and I are not best friends (we're barely on speaking terms) and that lack of expertise extends to credit card purchases. Especially if I'm using my phone to do the deal.

But after one misfire - I was almost at the point when the card info would be provided when a second 'service charge' clued me in that I was not on an official site but some sort of StubHub-type web page - we eventually secured three tickets in the southwest corner of the main grandstand (upper level) for me, Steve and his son Mike.

(And yes, Steve gave me the cash for all three, which I immediately - okay, the next day - deposited in the bank in my Presidents Choice Financial account. Most of it anyway.)

The cheapest option was to dispense with printing the tickets and to simply show the tickets at the stadium, where they are scanned and you're in. It's what all the kids are doing these days.

Simple, right?

Except when you're talking me and technology, nothing is simple.

I was told I could view the tickets after 8 pm on Monday - 48 hours before the event - so I had plenty of time to 'practice' locating the tickets on my phone. The last thing I needed was to be struggling to find them in front of a bunch of impatient soccer fans.

It took me four friggin' minutes the first time. I had to find the email, hit the 'view tickets' button and then punch in my password. I was able to remember my password (yay!) but my fat fingers were giving me troubles hitting the keys properly.

You have no idea what I go through every day. Seriously.

At this point Steve was getting a bit worried but I assured him everything would work out on game day. "Easy peasy," I said.

He did not look assured.

Two days later we picked up Mike and headed down to the GO Station; me with $10 in my pocket (for food) and my credit card in my wallet (for the train tickets and beer).

And the whole hour-plus ride to Exhibition Station I practised on my phone and I kept running into the same problem: I would try to punch in my password and I would instead enlarge the address bar, causing me to tap harder (and repeatedly) before my phone would co-operate.

"No worries guys. I got this," I would say after each attempt, with my false sense of bravado doing Steve's confidence levels no favours.

Mike would just laugh.

And then we were at BMO Field and in line to get in. And I had my phone ready for the moment of truth. And I tapped the 'view tickets' button and ... there they were.

No password required. No fat finger frustration. Success.

"Here you are ma'am. For your viewing pleasure," I wanted to say to the staffer at the gate with the scanning gun. What I actually said was nothing. I just held out my phone and hoped for the best.

And we were in.

Brampton boy Jonathan Osorio was the hero for TFC on this
night with the game-winning goal in the 89th minute

After finding our seats Mike and I went for a stroll around the place. It was Mike's first time at BMO, so I wanted to give him a tour, but really, I was on a hunt for beer. I heard they had craft beer in this macro-dominated stadium but an entire circuit of the facility bore no fruit. Or real craft beer, for that matter.

I settled for a tall boy of Goose IPA ($12.25) to go with my foot-long hot dog ($10.25) and we headed back to our seats to watch the match.

'Cause that what we were there for, right?

I have been faithfully following TFC since its inception in 2007 and would go to a couple of games each season, usually because of my pal Santo, AKA Superfan. The team posted the best record in MLS history in winning its first title last season, but it wasn't just TFC's reputation at stake in this tournament - it was the entire MLS league. The CONCACAF Champions League has been won by Mexican clubs every single year and our record against Mexican elevens was dismal. And that's being nice.

So no pressure TFC.

It didn't start so well, as we barely touched the ball in the first ten minutes. The weather didn't help either, as our seats were mere metres from the open south end of the stadium and Lake Ontario was apparently in an angry mood this night.

We were freezing our asses off. Whose bright idea was it to hold an outdoor soccer game in Toronto in the first week of March?

Major League Soccer's Holy Grail:
The Philip Anschutz Trophy

But our mood improved as TFC gained control of the match and even when Tigres opened the second half with a goal and the lead we remained optimistic about the outcome.

Still, when Jozy Altidore tied the game at ones shortly after, we were accepting of a draw for the return leg in Monterrey next week, so when Jonathan Osorio scored on a cheeky back heel goal in the 89th minute we nearly brought the roof down.

High fives all 'round.

All three remaining MLS clubs in the tournament won (and all against Mexican sides), so it is looking quite rosy for this week's return legs.

But Steve's debt to me is paid, so a trip to Monterrey (temperature as I write this: 33 degrees celsius) is out. We will just have to find a local pub showing the game and watch it there.

And finding one that also serves craft beer might prove to be as tough as a MLS team winning on Mexican soil.

I'll be watching. And hoping.

Butter Tarts ... and beer

The day I ordered the TFC tickets I was indulging in another passion of mine: butter tarts.

The quintessential Canadian treat was on full display at Bowmanville's Garnet Rickard Centre for the first annual Bowmanville Butter Tart Festival and I was determined to get my fill of the ooey, gooey tart that is as Canadian as poutine and Nanaimo bars.

More so, in fact.

And while we're on the subject, I am always willing to try different variations of this delectable pastry - and did on this afternoon - but, for the record, the classic butter tart has raisins, not pecans.

Burn the Witch Again, a collaboration
pale ale with Brew Wizards

The event got underway at nine in the morning but I'm not THAT obsessed with butter tarts. Besides, I worked until nine, so it was after lunch when I rolled into Bowmanville and headed straight for ... Manantler Brewing.

What, you think I can go to Bowmanville without a visit to my once and always favourite brewery?

So I popped in and ordered a glass of Burn the Witch Again, a 5.5 per cent dry-hopped pale ale brewed in collaboration with Brew Wizards Cafe of Oshawa that I had been hearing great things about.

Dry-hopped with El Dorado, Idaho 7 and Citra, this was freakin' delicious. I left with two bottles and should have bought more.

I also grabbed a couple of bombers of Seismic Narwhal, the brewery's signature Imperial Pale Ale, along with a bottle of Lollihop - Eldorado, part of Manantler's single hop series of beers.

And I chatted with a guy at the bar, who told me his party waited for more than an hour to get in to the Butter Tart Festival before giving up and coming to Manantler instead.

Just a few of the delicious butter tarts at Bowmanville's
First Annual Butter Tart Festival

Not a bad option to be sure, but as a fellow butter tart aficionado, I could feel his pain. So I sampled the 3.8 per cent 42 Francs Belgian Table Beer (on his recommendation), gathered up my purchases and drove to the arena, ever hopeful my luck would be better than his.

There was still a lineup when I arrived around one, but it wasn't long and I was inside in about ten minutes. But there was no way organizers of this event could have anticipated the crowds that had been lining up all day. Would there be any tarts left?

The answer to that was yes, thankfully. Especially as more than 40,000 tarts were sold at the festival.

The first vendor I found was the one I was looking for: Betty's Pie and Tarts, a bakery I had discovered (during a monsoon no less) on the way back from a visit to Northumberland Brewery in Cobourg a few years ago.

Their Peanut Butter & Jam tart was to die for (I told you I was open to different varieties) but it was sold out this day. But I did buy the last six pack of their traditional (raisin) butter tart ($10), so I left the booth happy.

I sampled a Chai Tea tart at the next booth (you read that correctly) and learned later there was a butter tart made from beer (Vanilla Porter) that I missed. Next time.

I spent my last six bucks at the Carla's Cookie Box booth. Carla, a Vaughan baker who was celebrating her birthday, enticed me with a Nutella Swirl tart and a Peanut Butter tart, so I plunked down my last coins and headed for the door.

There was the small matter of free samples of maple syrup cotton candy (so good) in my way, but I eventually made it to the arena side of the building, where I sat down to watch Oshawa's Tyke (seven year-old) Rep team against the local Clarington boys (3-1 Oshawa when I left) and to devour my two tarts from Carla's.

The six-pack from Betty's? I savoured those over the next three days because I'm disciplined like that. Sometimes.

That was my coffee budget blown for the week but it was well worth it.

Cheers!