JonahKeri.com

July 1, 1997.

I’d just graduated from college and was engaged to be married two months later, on Labor Day weekend. By this point, I should have been in Washington, DC, moved in with my fiancee. Of course this assumes that I wasn’t a complete dimwit when I was 22.

Two months earlier, I’d driven to the U.S. border, my rickety old Chevy Corsica — with a driver’s side seat that leaned back, and to the right (back, and to the right) — stuffed with all my worldly possessions, which is to say a few boxes full of baseball books. Unfortunately I’d just assumed that being engaged to an American and securing employment ahead of time in the States was good enough for INS.

It was not. The customs agent, slack-jawed at my naivete, turned my car right back around and sent me back to Montreal. I would have to fill out a bunch of complicated forms, apply for a complicated visa, and eventually, when INS was good and ready, come in for what was sure to be a complicated interview.

With the immigration process crawling along at a snail’s pace, I still needed something to do to pass the time. Getting a job wasn’t an option, since I hoped to bolt for DC at the first available opportunity. To pass the time, I bolted for Toronto, where many of my friends and much of my family had moved. My buddy Jon was settling in there, and he was always up for random adventures.

With Canada Day approaching, we realized there was an opportunity for an epic day of Canadian revelry: Expos vs. Jays at SkyDome…followed by a Rush concert! I could have changed my name to Gord, slapped on a toque and inked a giant maple leaf tattoo across my forehead at that very moment.

Looking at the pitching matchup that day, we expected a mismatch. The Expos had a tall, goofy journeyman on the mound, opposing one of the greatest pitchers in baseball history. As it turned out, we were right — it was a big mismatch. One pitcher blazed through 8.1 innings, allowed just two hits, and struck out 14. The other tossed the same number of innings, but nibbled all day, laboring and yielding 10 hits.

The winning pitcher that day: Jeff Juden
The losing pitcher that day: Roger Clemens

Seriously.

Reminding Toronto fans, at least for one day, that the Maple Leafs weren’t the only Toronto team that bowed down to Montreal was sweet enough. Jeff Juden over Roger Clemens took the day 10 levels higher. If we could run down to catch the end of the Rush show, we’d reach Canada Day perfection.

But the clock was ticking. The Molson Amphitheatre (that’s how we spell it, Yanks) was a full 3 kilometers away, a 36-minute walk if Google Maps existed and could counsel us back then.

Executing the most awkward drunken sprint of all time, we made it in 19 minutes.

The concert was packed, and tickets had gone for alarming prices. Still, we found a scalper in front of the theatre, brandishing two.

(Pant, Pant) “How much for a pair?”
(Scalper, sensing the upper hand) “75 bucks for two tickets. Face value is 100.”
(Pant, Pant) “The show’s over in 45 minutes. We’ll give you 15 bucks for the pair.”
(Scalper, pissed off) “All right, fine.”

Woo! We ran, looked around frantically for seats, and realized we’d never find any, not with everyone standing and in a full lather as the concert neared its crescendo. We found a place to stand between two levels of seats. Just then, *Geddy Lee took the mic:

“This next song is called ‘The Trees’”

*(Going JoePos for a second here) One of my favorite etymology stories of all-time involves Geddy Lee’s stage name. As the story goes, Lee’s real name is Gary. But his Polish-Jewish mother, in her Eastern European accent, pronounced it as something closer to “Geh-ddy”. The name stuck, and a rock legend was born.

**Also, Geddy Lee is a gigantic baseball and fantasy baseball fan. He surely would have appreciated our baseball + concert double-header, even though my team whupped his team. In fact, I think I need to interview the guy for myself. Add that to the to-do list.

For all the Geddy Lee talk, “The Trees” is all about guitarist Alex Liefson and especially drummer Neil Peart (argue with a Canadian that any other rock drummer beats Peart and you’ll end up with a fat lip…or you would, if we Canadians weren’t so gosh darn nice). The song, which normally lasts five or six minutes, ended up going nearly 20, capped by a Peart drum solo that remains one of the best concert moments I’ve ever experienced.

Twelve years later, Rush is still going strong, and the Expos are no more. But in a couple of hours, my new adopted team will be taking on the Jays in another Canada Day matinee, and I’ll be rooting hard against Toronto again, just like old times.

It’s a great day to be Canadian.

UPDATE: OK, now I’m peeved that I won’t be back in Canada until Friday.

There’s an amazing deal happening on Canada Day (July 1) at all Mandarin Restaurants. Simply show proof of your Canadian citizenship (with your Canadian Birth Certificate, Canadian Passport or Canadian Citizenship Card) and you’ll get the famous All-You-Can-Eat Buffet (including soft drinks, coffee and tea) for Free!