The family jersey jinx is now complete: yesterday, Jesse Lumsden’s days as a Ticat officially came to an end (he signed with the Edmonton Eskimos as a free agent). Two summers ago, Spouse and I made a commitment to the team and ordered two official jerseys; I ordered myself up one of Lumsden’s 28s.
Spouse could not decide between Richie Williams’ number (she’s a sucker for the unsung hero) and that of Dwight Anderson, the scrappy cornerback (she liked his flamboyant moxie). We received our jerseys late one week and wore them proudly to a game against Saskatchewan the very next day. Anderson lasted all of three quarters; he punched a guy at midfield, got thrown out of the game and was promptly sent home for the rest of the season and told to enroll in anger management. He never played another game for the Cats.
I don’t wish Jesse ill, but I have to admit I kind of hope that he doesn’t have a breakout dominant season – the one all Cats fans fear he should have had for the Black and Gold, but which he never managed as a result of injury. He seems like a good guy, but the Ticats have had such rotten luck over the past couple of years, I just couldn’t stand it if Lumsden finally shook off the injury bug and ruled the world with a broad two-handed sword; my tolerance for “number of indignities suffered by struggling sports franchise I follow” may just be reaching my maximum operating limits given the last few years of Maple Leaf hockey.
On a positive note, I was encouraged to see that the Cats’ schedule includes fewer midweek games this year; hopefully, Spouse and I will be able to make it down to more games as a result (the midweek games made it difficult for us to work, go home, feed the dog, turn around, drive back downtown, cheer the Cats to a massive defeat and then return disheartened to Juniorvania).