Saturday morning, I got up, tired as hell. Dressed, went to see my therapist. My session was pretty uneventful; we’re still feeling each other out, and I don’t know where things are going to go.
Walking around Midtown afterwards, I suddenly felt…lighter. I don’t know if I’d say “happier”; that wasn’t it. What it was, if anything, was gratefulness. Which, since this week is Thanksgiving, is appropriate.
I’m thankful to be alive. We’re here for such a brief moment, and for as much as I’m anxious and depressed and lonely, for as much rage as I feel at the defilement of our country currently taking place, I’m also grateful that, however insufficient though our efforts might be, we can at least do something. And so many of us are: not just on the ballot, but on the streets.
I’m thankful for my cats, Hector and Hobbes, with whom I’ll spend a few days this week. I’m thankful for the fact that, in 2019, I can literally tap into the collected wisdom of humanity, using a computer only a few centimeters thick; and have others on my wrist and in my pocket.
I’m thankful for people who care about me. It’s easy, living and spending my days mostly by myself, to think I am alone. The truth is messier, more complicated than that. I care about people, and people care about me, and my life would be infinitely poorer without them.
I am not fond of the holidays. I’m estranged from my family, and I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t jealous of people who have a family to come home to in the holidays, who have fathers and mothers and relationships that are screwed up in the normal ways that all relationships are screwed up.
But this Thursday, I will be with friends. Friends, someone once told me, are the family you choose, because they choose you for who you are and who you try to be. I will meet some people I didn’t know before, and I will know them a little better afterwards. I’ll give thanks for all that.
I hope you’re with the people you choose to be, and people who’ve chosen you. If you’re reading this, thank you. If you’re in New York City, and you’re looking for someone to spend Thanksgiving with: let me know. I’m joining a Friendsgiving in Brooklyn, and I’d love to bring you along.
Let’s roll with the miscellanies.
The Drought Bowl
Yesterday was the biggest day in football — if you’re Canadian, that is. I’m talking about the Grey Cup Final. The Grey Cup’s one of the oldest trophies in American professional sports, with a captivating history. I mean, for a moment after World War One, people literally forgot the trophy existed.
Anyway: if you’re American, you probably know Canadian football as that “weird” form of football that’s almost like American football (AKA “regular” football) but not quite. You wouldn’t be wrong, but it’s so much more than that. This video explains the differences between Canadian and American football:
Those rules mean that Canadian football games are offensive showcases. It makes for a much more entertaining product than American football, at least to me. It’s a pass-oriented game with smaller, faster players. That also means that several Canadian football quarterbacks - guys like Anthony Calvillo and Ricky Ray - are near the top of the statistical charts when it domes to QB rating, passing yardage, and touchdowns.
Beyond that, Canadian football’s routinely been a lot more forward-minded than the NFL, for decades. The CFL notably served as a platform for black quarterbacks to demonstrate their excellence — Warren Moon, anyone? — and multiple teams employ black head coaches and coordinators. The CFL was also the first major North American sports league to hire a black commissioner; hard to see that happening in the NFL.
Honestly? I love Canadian football. I love that it’s a more laid-back, quirkier cousin to the NFL, whose pompous self-seriousness is both hypocritical and wearying. I love that three of the nine CFL teams (Edmonton, Saskatchewan, and Winnipeg) are community-owned, and that unlike the NFL, that’s still an option for teams. I love that until 1996, there were two teams with the same name (the Saskatchewan Roughriders and the Ottawa Rough Riders).
People sleep on the CFL, and they really shouldn’t. If you like gridiron football, you’re missing out.
Yesterday’s edition - the 107th - featured two teams that hadn’t won the Cup in ages. The Hamilton Tiger-Cats last won in 1999, and the Winnipeg Blue-Bombers in 1990. Hence the unofficial nickname for this game: the “drought bowl”.
Going into the game, the Hamilton Tiger-Cats were clearly the favorites. They had the best regular-season record in the league (15-3), they scored the most points and they gave up the fewest. The average score in those games was 31-19, and they won last week's East Division final over the Edmonton Eskimos 36-16.
The Winnipeg Blue Bombers (god, I love these names) were decided underdogs. While they started out the season undefeated at 5-0, once quarterback Matt Nichols was lost for the season with a shoulder injury, Winnipeg stumbled to an 11-7 record.
You’d think that this would be a blowout for Hamilton. You’d be wrong. The game started out slowly - it was 8-3 at the end of the first quarter - but the Bombers were on the front foot, thanks to a couple of early turnovers by Hamilton. The score was 21-6 at halftime, and it just felt like Winnipeg was on course to win.
Hamilton had their chances, but just couldn’t capitalize on them. Late in the third quarter, Hamilton quarterback Dane Evans seemed to have thrown an almighty home run ball to leave them on the doorstep of Winnipeg’s end zone — but the pass was ruled incomplete.
Winnipeg tacked on a couple of field goals in the fourth quarter, and essentially saw out the game to end their 29-year-long championship wait. The final score: 33-12, Blue Bombers.
Sharing is Caring
Black Friday is around the corner (I’m sending out a bonus newsletter Wednesday with some gift tips, if you’re into that sort of thing). This is a fascinating look at how a lot of stuff we order online is “prepped” for shipping.
It’s finally this time of year! Also, you really can’t escape just how creepy James Franco is.
Speaking of which, this is a legitimately serious review of the NCRCU - the Netflix Christmas Romance Cinematic Universe - and how the The Knight Before Christmas, in which the characters watch Holiday in the Wild, fits in with other movies in the Vanessa Hudgens-centered universe like the Princess Switch in which characters watch A Christmas Prince. Think of the NCRCU as Marvel to Hallmark’s DC Universe, I think?
Something I’ve focused on the last year or so is trying to be a better friend, which is why I found this guide from the Times on How to Be a Better Friend extremely good. If you’re someone who struggles with making adult friends — LIKE ME — I highly recommend this.
Heather Havrilesky gives excellent advice. I love this, especially for men:
The more I write this column and also confront my own bad wiring every day, I’m astounded at how infrequently we distinguish between thoughts and feelings in our culture. I get 15 letters a day that, no matter what problems are being described, boil down to humans who don’t know how to turn their heads off and just fucking exist and feel whatever they’re feeling without running away from it.
It’s definitely one of the things that I’ve worked really hard at just…grappling with. I made a conscious choice to really lean into this during these past Days of Awe (another name for the Jewish high holy days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur).
Everyone’s talking about Sacha Baron Cohen’s keynote address at the ADL Never is Now summit — and rightfully so.
This is fun: how wide is your range? Sing to your browser, and see whether you can hit the high notes.
I love all of you. Take care of your selves, and I hope this coming week is excellent for you.