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The Yellow Beetle

The first time I ever drove to Edmonton was in a pale yellow Volkswagen Beetle. I called it the baddest thing on the road because it had 8 speakers, an 8-track cassette player and the music blasting from those speakers was the best in E-town – I was cold-blooded! The problem with this vehicle, especially during the winter months, was that you got very little heat when it was moving, so I carried an ice scraper and a towel for the inside of my car. You’d be coming down the road and the windshield would begin to ice up. I’d  scrape the ice off first and then, I’d wipe the frost off with the towel so I could see.

I remember my first Western Final with the Edmonton Eskimos, the last one at Clarke Stadium. It was 1977. Before each game the team would get together for the pre-game meal, usually about 4 hours before game time. I remember walking outside to the parking lot to get to my car. Within a few steps, I had icicles coming out of my nose. I’m thinking, “Is this normal up here?” I hop in my car – back then, you had vinyl seats and with this cold weather, the seats would freeze up hard and out of shape. There’d be lumps everywhere…so I had to shimmy around and heat it up. But, before I got to that, I had to first get into the car. Somebody said that I should use a hair dryer. I said, “What the hell am I gonna do with a hair dryer?” Turns out you use the hair dryer on the lock to melt the ice so you can get the key in. I didn’t know that. Someone also said that I should get a block heater. Now I’m thinking, “block heater –what’s that?” I told people I had one – just to sound intelligent. So now, I finally get into the car, wiggle my butt to re-shape the seat, put the key in the ignition, all the while thinking this game will be cancelled: “It’s too cold to play football, and I doubt if anybody will be there to watch anyway.” 

The day before the game, the car was giving me “brrroooooomph-oooomph-oomph-I’ll-think-about-it-maybe-I’ll-start….okay….vroom.” Boy, was I happy – it was cold out there! The next day, game day, when I turned the key, it was like the car was saying to me “Whoa, what the hell are you doing? We ain’t goin nowhere today.” And we didn’t.  So now I have to cab it to the pre-game meal. How embarrassing. As soon as I get there, I’m ready for the big meal because I’m thinking, “The game’s gonna be cancelled. It’s inhuman out there!” I talk to the Canadian guys cause all the Americans up here for the first time think it’s cancelled too.

I go, “Are they cancelling the game, John?”

“What game?” he asks.

“Our game.”

“Are you serious?”

“No, I’m Ed.  Are they canceling our game?”

“No.”

I’m thinking, “You’re kiddin’!”

It was -28 C when the game started, with wind blowing 50 mph, so it felt much colder.

When the game ended, it was -34 C. We had 2 or 3 guys with frostbite. The first play of the game, nobody hit the ground. NOBODY HIT THE GROUND! I’m trying to reach over the big guys and get to the ball carrier who looked like he was running in place behind his lineman and not going anywhere. He definitely did not want to be hit or fall on the ground. That ground was frozen solid, just like concrete.

The most amazing thing about that game and that day was that I’d look up in the stands and see not one empty seat. I said, “These people are tough. Sitting out there for 3 to 4 hours in this kind of weather – these people are either tough or they’re crazy.”

We are Family

The community welcomed the ball players, no matter where you were from or what colour your skin was. There was a lot of racial tension in the States, and many of the players from there had experienced racism. The people of Edmonton welcomed us; they supported the team and the players as individuals and equals. It was a great time to be here, and still is. That’s one of the biggest reasons why I stayed. As far as my relationship with the team members – we were family. We still are today.

The guys who played for the Esks at that time treated each other like siblings. The players’ parents, both Canadians and Americans, treated us like we were their sons. My dad came to every Grey Cup game I played in – six consecutive years and five championships. He still talks about meeting the families of Danny Kepley, Dave Cutler, Dale Potter, Tom Towns, to name just a few. The dads became friends because they met for Grey Cup so often. They would be in town for 4 to 5 days, partying it up like they were 25. They still keep in touch with letters and through us, the ball players. Racial barriers were broken.

My dad met Danny's dad, Vernon, in a public bathroom, of all places. I guess Vernon asked my dad if he was up here for the Grey Cup. My dad said, “Yeah, yeah, I’m up here for the game. Are you?” Vernon replied, “Yeah, me too. My son plays for the Edmonton Eskimos.” My dad responded, “Mine does too.” They eventually figured out that Danny and I were roommates while we were both with the Dallas Cowboys.

Now this is guy from North Carolina, where racism was very strong. There were very few conversations that took place between a black guy from New Jersey and a white guy from the South back in 1977. So the racial barrier was broken because they were up here, they had a common interest with their kids being on the same team, and they got to meet all these wonderful Canadians from Edmonton. These people treated me like I was part of their family then, and still do today. I stayed in Edmonton because of the people, Edmontonians, like them.