Two weeks ago, I bought the first piece of U of T paraphernalia that I’m actually proud to own in my five-plus years at this university. It’s a blue and white scarf with the Blues T insignia on both ends, and it cost me $30, so I’m going to have to get a lot of mileage out of this one. Replacing the other scarf I had wrapped around my neck, I had a seat on the bleachers at Varsity Centre, and watched the Blues football team lose on a beautiful Saturday afternoon. Oh, man, did we get slaughtered. I had a really great time.
As I sat in the stands watching Waterloo score another touchdown, I thought about what a shame it was that in all my years here, this was the first time I was having the stereotypical university experience of attending the homecoming football game. Friends drifted in and out of the stands to say hi, and UC and Skule both had good contingents out. As we noted the number of friends who couldn’t make it because they had midterms to study for and essays to write, my fellow spectator Alix remarked how it’s too bad that you pretty much have to stop taking classes here to have the time to appreciate U of T.
It’s especially unfortunate since a Blues football game used to be able to fill up Varsity Stadium—and this was when the bleachers reached all the way around the field—with overflow onto Bloor Street. But in the modern U of T era, athletics aren’t anyone’s priority. Students are more likely to strain a muscle at the Science Olympics than on any field, rink, or court.
But if you think about it, sports actually include some of our favourite pastimes, including statistics, management, and following the rules. Furthermore, as is well known, Torontonians have no problem with—nay, have a talent for—supporting a losing team in blue and white.
We know that you don’t really have to follow a sport to enjoy a game, so why isn’t the new Varsity Centre packing the stands?
The answer finally hit me, or rather, I tasted it: a Varsity Centre hot dog. Of the true horse-knuckle variety, it looked like it had been boiled in its own sweat. There were also nachos, but I didn’t dare try those after what I had just consumed.
Beverages weren’t any better. On my way to finding a seat, I had passed by what I think might have been intended as U of T’s sad-sack beer garden, stationed in the concrete hall beneath the bleachers. It was cordoned off with one of those metal fences the police use to control pedestrian traffic, and it looked about as hospitable as it did permanent. The two lone men in their fifties that were stationed inside the kennel appeared to share my remorse for the lack of a proper place to share a pint—or whatever beverage tickles your fancy—with friends. It’s cold and grey under the bleachers.
This is what we show off to other schools when they come to Varsity Centre for a big game. I’m surprised no one at Rotman has had the good sense to recognize a demand when they see one. Maybe they haven’t been to a Blues game?
Please, somebody, anybody, fix the food situation at Varsity Centre. Do you think you could do it in time for an outdoor Hockey Classic?
