Growing up on a farm near the Qu'appelle Valley, many summer
days were spent wedged beside a tractor seat while my father did laps
around a small piece of prairie. He didn't know many jokes, so the ones
I heard tended to be repeated. A lot.
There was this one about a farmer. The farmer was in hell, naturally.
There was this one about a farmer. The farmer was in hell, naturally.
Satan
is walking around surveying the damned souls suffering in the immense
heat. Except this one farmer seems to be lounging comfortably. So Satan
goes up to him and asks why he's not in horrible pain.
"Oh," says the farmer, "I'm from Saskatchewan. This is nothing compared to the summer heat where I'm from."
Satan is a little upset by this, so he clops over to hell's thermostat, and cranks it up. The chorus of screams gets louder so Satan figures that's done the trick. But when he finds the farmer again, the farmer is barely breaking a sweat.
"Boy," says the farmer, "work all day pitching bails in the sun, then talk to me about heat."
Satan decides to change tactics. He clops over to the thermostat again and turns it all the way down. The lake of fire becomes a lake of ice. Damned souls are frozen in place like statues. Satan grins. Surely the farmer must be suffering now.
Except when he gazes over, the farmer appears to be dancing. Satan approaches, and he hears the farmer yell: "THE RIDERS WON THE GREY CUP! THE RIDERS WON THE GREY CUP!"
It was a much better joke back in the mid-to-late '90s. It had been several years since Dave Ridgeway and "the kick". The Saskatchewan Roughriders had followed up their Cup win in '89 with a long string of failures. More often than not, the team wouldn't make the post-season; quite the feat in a league of less than 10 teams.
Things weren't any better during the Danny Barrett "rebuilding" era. In 2000 and 2001, the Riders finished dead last in the CFL. They had one winning season when I was seven years old. They wouldn't have another one until I was 16.
Saskatchewan's only major sports team being terrible at sports was a pretty significant part of my childhood. Most of the discourse around the team coming from parents, uncles, the news, or other farmers was framed in disappointment, gloom, and pessimism.
It reflected our "have not" province in a way. Success seemed to eluded us during those years, be it economic or athletic.
So I ask, in what soil was a burgeoning fandom supposed to grow? Presumably, I was preoccupied with potty-training when Ridgeway booted it through the uprights. Most of what followed was a cavalcade of suck. Why would I care about a team like that?
Now though, things have changed. Saskatchewan hasn't needed hand-outs from Ottawa to stay afloat for many years, and the Riders have pulled off what seemed like an impossibility 10 years prior: a Grey Cup win on home turf. Burn in hell, farmer!
But now I'm left in a strange spot. Who ever heard of a Saskatchewan boy who doesn't care about the Riders? After all, so much of our provincial identity is tied up in this one team. If people from outside the province know anything about us, it's that trademark green and white 'S' plastered on jerseys, toques , flags, licence plates, and literally everything else. If you're from Saskatchewan, you're a Rider super fan. Period.
I've been to Mosaic Stadium. I've pounded back cans of Pilsner while Gainer pumped his furry fist from the passenger seat of a golf cart. I was in Regina when the 13th man shattered Saskatchewan's championship dreams in 2010. Then, when glorious redemption was achieved three years later, I drove down 8th Street in Saskatoon to honk at the joyous crowds of green and white.
But I didn't care. Not really. The opportunity for emotional investment had already passed.
I imagine there are many others like me; people who politely smile and nod when large-bellied men argue over the waning talent of Darian Durant. I would even wager that we're the silent majority in Saskatchewan, despite what the local media seems to believe.
Stay strong sisters and brothers. The season is only four months long.
"Oh," says the farmer, "I'm from Saskatchewan. This is nothing compared to the summer heat where I'm from."
Satan is a little upset by this, so he clops over to hell's thermostat, and cranks it up. The chorus of screams gets louder so Satan figures that's done the trick. But when he finds the farmer again, the farmer is barely breaking a sweat.
"Boy," says the farmer, "work all day pitching bails in the sun, then talk to me about heat."
Satan decides to change tactics. He clops over to the thermostat again and turns it all the way down. The lake of fire becomes a lake of ice. Damned souls are frozen in place like statues. Satan grins. Surely the farmer must be suffering now.
Except when he gazes over, the farmer appears to be dancing. Satan approaches, and he hears the farmer yell: "THE RIDERS WON THE GREY CUP! THE RIDERS WON THE GREY CUP!"
It was a much better joke back in the mid-to-late '90s. It had been several years since Dave Ridgeway and "the kick". The Saskatchewan Roughriders had followed up their Cup win in '89 with a long string of failures. More often than not, the team wouldn't make the post-season; quite the feat in a league of less than 10 teams.
Things weren't any better during the Danny Barrett "rebuilding" era. In 2000 and 2001, the Riders finished dead last in the CFL. They had one winning season when I was seven years old. They wouldn't have another one until I was 16.
Saskatchewan's only major sports team being terrible at sports was a pretty significant part of my childhood. Most of the discourse around the team coming from parents, uncles, the news, or other farmers was framed in disappointment, gloom, and pessimism.
It reflected our "have not" province in a way. Success seemed to eluded us during those years, be it economic or athletic.
So I ask, in what soil was a burgeoning fandom supposed to grow? Presumably, I was preoccupied with potty-training when Ridgeway booted it through the uprights. Most of what followed was a cavalcade of suck. Why would I care about a team like that?
Now though, things have changed. Saskatchewan hasn't needed hand-outs from Ottawa to stay afloat for many years, and the Riders have pulled off what seemed like an impossibility 10 years prior: a Grey Cup win on home turf. Burn in hell, farmer!
But now I'm left in a strange spot. Who ever heard of a Saskatchewan boy who doesn't care about the Riders? After all, so much of our provincial identity is tied up in this one team. If people from outside the province know anything about us, it's that trademark green and white 'S' plastered on jerseys, toques , flags, licence plates, and literally everything else. If you're from Saskatchewan, you're a Rider super fan. Period.
I've been to Mosaic Stadium. I've pounded back cans of Pilsner while Gainer pumped his furry fist from the passenger seat of a golf cart. I was in Regina when the 13th man shattered Saskatchewan's championship dreams in 2010. Then, when glorious redemption was achieved three years later, I drove down 8th Street in Saskatoon to honk at the joyous crowds of green and white.
But I didn't care. Not really. The opportunity for emotional investment had already passed.
I imagine there are many others like me; people who politely smile and nod when large-bellied men argue over the waning talent of Darian Durant. I would even wager that we're the silent majority in Saskatchewan, despite what the local media seems to believe.
Stay strong sisters and brothers. The season is only four months long.
