No touque for Dimitri

My cousin Steve, a TFC season ticket holder (and part-time hockey ref), wished me a happy birthday on the annointed day, and then had a moment of absolute clarity.

"I should give my pair of tickets to TFC's final game to my beloved cousin who I see every two years as a birthday present," said Steve (not to be confused with my other cousin Steve) just minutes after wishing me birthday greetings on Facebook.

The actual text of his message was actually pretty close to that: Hey, I know the season is a wash, but I can't go to the TFC finale this Sunday as I officiate hockey and have 4 games. As a BD gift would you like them cuz?

So of course I said yes. Even though it had been a hugely disappointing season for the defending MLS Cup champions - they were eliminated from playoff contention a month ago - it's still a TFC game, and I'm still a fan.

Dimitri and I at the TFC game. I may look
funny wearing glasses but damn! I look good
in my official TFC touque.

And it was Touque Day.

The first 10,000 fans get a free TFC touque. That sounded very doable and though I don't often wear hats, I'm always up for free stuff.

I asked my buddie Steve (not my actual cousin) if he wanted to go to the match - I've taken him to several previous soccer games - but he was watching his grandson. Number One Son Matt was next in the queue, but his daughter was coming over to spend the afternoon so he was out. His brother Cam? Working nights, he sadly informed me.

So I went to Plan B and asked my now former work pal Dimitri - who had never been to BMO Field - if he was up for the game. Dimitri, who was perfectly okay with being fourth - "aww, I was right after family" - said he'd love to go.

Especially after he heard it was Touque Day.

So after picking him up just after lunch Sunday and getting fuelled for the GO Train ride down to BMO 10/17-style (hey! It was an historic week), we drove down to the station. And promptly missed our train by seconds because I wasted a precious few too many of them trying to buy my ticket at one of those damn ticket vending machines.

Dimitri, meanwhile just swiped his Presto card and he's in and waiting for me, but the train started moving as we got to the tracks so we knew it was too late.

"Let's catch it at Whitby," says Dimitri, so we run (Dimitri)/hobble (me) back to my car (four hundred metres away) and I put on my racing goggles as I prepared to outrun a train.

Great plan, but the 401 wasn't co-operating and we could see the train on our left not getting any closer, so I decided to skip Whitby and head off the train in Ajax.

And missed it by seconds again.

"We could have beaten it to Pickering," Dimitri ventures, but I'm already done racing trains, I told him. "Dude. We're going to a brewery."

Cousin Steve moonlighting on
winter weekends

Can you blame me? I'm not going to beat a GO Train and Falcon Brewery was so close. And I was thirsty. We'll catch the next train in an hour, I told my young friend. Plenty of time to still be among the first 10,000 fans at BMO, right? Right?

So we whiled away forty minutes or so at Falcon, sipping on a Munition IPA while watching the whitest band ever assembled rock out a string of country/rock/folk hits at Open Mic.

It's not that they were bad - it was actually quite enjoyable - but with an average age of about 70 and the stage presence worthy of the undead it was a bit of a soulless experience. I swore the guitarist, who played in the sitting position, was either sleeping or worse until I saw his fingers move.

A bit of fun nonetheless, but with trains to catch and no luck so far catching them, we were soon on our way.

Having missed the 1:41 train to Exhibition Station, we made the 2:41 and arrived at the stadium with an hour to spare before game time; plenty of time for a friendly BMO staffer to assist me in finding our 'tickets' on my phone.

As I have said in this space before, I so need help.

Anyway, we make it inside but there was not a hat to be found. "Did we miss the touques?" I ask another friendly staffer, not quite believing we weren't among the first 10,000 fans.

TFC striker Sebastian Giovinco

"Sorry sir. They're all gone."

The look of disappointment must have been obvious, because a man to my right - possibly another friendly BMO employee, possibly just an empathetic soul - pressed a touque in my hands. "Last one," he said.

"Thank you," I said. "But you don't have another one for my friend?"

"That's it bud."

Sorry Dimitri. No touque for you.

We continued on our tour of the stadium, looking for food and more importantly, beer. Nothing but macro brews at BMO, but a Mill Street West Coast IPA for me and a Hopped and Confused Session Ale for Dimitri hit the spot nicely.

We also ran into one of those credit card people in the concourse. You know, sign up for our card - and who doesn't need more crippling credit card debt, am I right? - and we give you a gift. In this case, a soccer ball.

And I wanted a soccer ball.

So I signed on the dotted line (the card is in the mail) and turned to Dimitri. "You can get a ball too."

No ID. No soccer ball for Dimitri either.

The crowd at BMO Field on most match days

But we had beer, and settled in to our seats to watch TFC's final game of the season against Atlanta, a team that could have broken our single season points record with a victory or a tie.

So the boys had something besides pride to play for and they put together a clinic for 90 minutes, thoroughly dismantling Atlanta 4-1, thanks to goals by Lucas Janson (2), Marky Delgado and the Atomic Ant himself, Sebastian Giovinco.

Too bad they couldn't have done that on a more consistent basis during the rest of the season. And too bad New York Red Bulls - one point behind Atlanta in the race for the Supporters Shield going into the match - won their last game to eclipse TFC's record anyway.

The record lasted just one year.

But on the bright side, I have brand new soccer ball. And an authentic TFC touque.

Sorry Dimitri.