We're all for the presumption of innocence and all that good stuff. But we have to admit that when word first broke about a couple of unnamed Alouettes celebrating Lawrence Phillips Throwback Night, we had our hopes up. Maybe it was Anthony Calvillo who went postal on the cops, presumably because they failed to recognize all that he's done for Montreal. Or Etienne Boulay, finally snapping after one too many jokes about his ample bosom. Or Ed Philion diving for the cops' knees.

Sadly, it was none of the above. The alleged wrongdoers are...wait for it...Alain Kashama and Mark Estelle.

Both apparently started against the Argos in the regular season finale. But, yeah...we have no idea who they are either. Although we have to say, based on his official team photo, Kashama does look pretty pissed off. 

Yesterday's comeback was such an unexpected joy that, for once, we don't even need to belittle some other team or its fans to make ourselves feel good. And really, we have no bone to pick with Bombers backers. It's no fun having your season fall apart before your eyes, and it's not the fans' fault that they're stuck with Milt Stegall while we get Arland Bruce.

That said, one of the joys of the information age and its vast, vast array of sports-related message boards is that the emotional rollercoaster fans go through each game is saved for posterity. This is especially the case during sudden-death playoff games in which your team blows a 10-point lead in the final minutes.

And so, having had it brought to our attention by our friends at Argofans, we bring you this. You know that Simpsons episode where Lisa rejects Ralph Wiggum at the Krusty special, and Bart explains that in the slow-motion replay you can pinpoint the exact moment Ralph's heart breaks in half? This is pretty much like that, except it's Michael Bishop doing the heartbreaking.

Well, we’re almost there. We are three weeks away from the biggest game in the country. Nelly Furtado is ready. Our livers are ready, and as we speak Wally Buono is coming up with a way to muck up the BC Lions chances. Let’s see what the league has in store for us in the interim.

Rusty's Picks:

Winnipeg at Toronto

Admittedly, I can’t even begin to talk about this game in anything approaching an objective manner. So while the following might help the Argos, they certainly won’t need to follow any of these suggestions to destroy the Bombers.

Argos’ Keys to the Game:

1. Don’t Read the National Post

While the Post has excellent Argos and CFL coverage, I must caution anyone from the Argos organization from reading this weekend's sports section. As some of you may remember (OK, probably just me, because I remember useless crap like this) Post reporter Sean Fitz-Gerald picked the Argos to lose every game in the 2004 playoffs. Even the game against Hamilton. It got to the point where we knew that the Grey Cup was in the bag once Fitz-Gerald picked the Lions. In this weekend's edition, though… not good news for Argos fans.

2. Shave “Not the Real” Greg Marshall’s Mustache

If there’s anything that we’ve learned from Rod Black this season, it’s that shaving one’s mustache can have a dramatic effect on the temperature inside that person’s undergarments. (Umm…new readers may want to familiarize themselves with this.)

So, no mustache on “Not the Real” Greg Marshall equals an uncomfortable moisture situation (for all involved), which equals poor defensive play calling, which leads to an Argos victory.

Don’t thank me. Thank Rod Black’s balls.

3. Use D’Angelo to Your Advantage

Tell Frank that his new buddies on the Blue Bombers have requested to be serenaded by the sweet, sweet sounds of the Steelback 2-4 before the game. If loud, slightly tolerable noises drove out Noriega, imagine what Frankie would do to Doug Berry.

Pick: Toronto

Saskatchewan v. Calgary

This one’s too close to call, so let’s look at how Saskatchewan’s nemesis (Henry Burris) and Calgary’s nemesis (some sort of gopher) match up.

Burris:

-destroys defensive backs
- has his own SportsCentre commercial
- watches teammates' elaborate dance routines
- throws bombs to Nik Lewis

Gopher:

- destroys golf courses
- has his own movie
- started his own dance craze
- avoids bombs thrown by Bill Murray

Well, we have an obvious winner here. So despite the fact that Calgary has a better team, and has been lights-out at home…

Pick: Saskatchewan

A-Rad's picks: 

Winnipeg at Toronto 

There are many, many good reasons the Argos must win this game. For one thing, we don't want to spend the next seven months being despondent. For another, we don't want to have to bail Rusty out after he goes on a post-game rampage and throws someone out a window...unless that someone is Frank D'Angelo, who we're apparently stuck with for years to come now that Ottawa has been spared the pleasure of his company. But more than anything else, I absolutely refuse to consider the possibility of the Argos being knocked out by a team that's celebrating its first playoff appearance in years by turning its website into a Nelly Furtado fan site.

Incidentally, the immortal Marty York definitively states that this game "will draw 30,000 fans, at most." This strikes me as improbable. But even if the Argos only get 29,000 people out, the good news is that it'll still be 28,999 more than read Marty York's column. (And yes, I'm inexplicably that one reader.) 

Pick: Toronto 

Saskatchewan at Calgary

So now Ralph Klein says he's okay with Gainer the Gopher crossing provincial lines, because he's "looking forward to Ralph the Dog chasing the gopher." When you think about it, it's only reasonable that the two Ralphs would feel a certain kindship. Because if there's ever been a drunker looking mascot than this thing, I've yet to see it.
 
But to be honest, should the Argos and Stamps meet in the Grey Cup, I'm much more concerned about the Stamps' other mascot. After R. Jay Soward's alleged run-in with USC's Traveler, I'm terrified of what might if he encounters the creatively named Stampeder Touchdown Horse.  

Pick: Calgary 

Bonus pick: 

All of the Argos have been injured in practice, leaving Pinball to play the Bombers by himself. To show his support for the CFL's most controversial mascot, Pinball decides to play the entire game in a Gainer the Gopher costume. How does Pinball do?*

Rusty's Pick: Pinball 612, Bombers 0. (Upon seeing "Gainer" on the field, the Bombers assume they're at a Roughriders home playoff game - and are so convinced they're dreaming that they don't even take the field until midway through the first quarter. Pinball has already built up a 63-0 lead by that point...a pace, naturally, that he maintains even once the Bombers are on the field.)

A-Rad's pick: Pinball 412, Bombers 7 (Pinball's uncharacteristically tight win is beyond his control. Up 405-0 through three quarters, he spends the fourth being chased by a drunk Ralph Klein and an even drunker Ralph the Dog. But the real problem is that he's unable to move because he's surrounded by thousands of Saskatchewanians, all bowing down to kiss the paws of their beloved leader.)

With our four-day Winnipeg binge drawing tantalizingly, alarmingly close, there's only one way to get into the spirit - fuzzy reminiscing about drunken moments at Grey Cup parties, Grey Cup afterparties, and maybe even Grey Cup games. With gophergate dominating the nation's headlines, today's edition answers the age-old question: Can mascots talk?

***

If you know us even a bit, you know we love us our mascots. So it goes without saying that we're thoroughly enjoying the epic battle that's ensued from the Stamps' decision to ban Gainer the Gopher from Sunday's West Division Semifinal. As if the outcry wasn't enough, now we've got Ralph Klein wading in - and really, what better cause to take up in your final days in office than opposing another city's rodent. But what intrigues and inspires us most is Gainer's television appearance in which he let a provincial minister answer an interviewer's questions, refusing to do anything more than stoically shake his head.

What does this have to do with a Grey Cup moment? Well, see, we've always assumed that the mascot code explicitly forbids them from talking, which makes sense - if you're looking at a giant gopher, dog or inflatable bird, it's a little disillusioning if it speaks in the voice of the poor bastard who's stuck inside. But as we learned at Grey Cup '04, not every mascot has Gainer's admirable self-control.

Allow us to once more set the scene. Having just exited the restroom at the Spirit of Edmonton party, we're moving through a narrow throughway when the entire Roughriders cheerleading squad comes through moving in the other direction, cornering us in one spot as we wait for them to pass.

We glance beside us, and standing there is a Ticats mascot - not Pigskin Pete, sadly, but the oversized cat known as Stripes. Our eyes meet, and we nod at each other in that manly way that men and felines always do when they're surrounded by a pack of tiny women in equally tiny skirts. "Hello," we say, because we can't think of anything else to say. "Hello," Stripes replies in a decidedly human voice. And as we do some more awkward nodding, we detect a hint of shame on Stripes' part, realizing that he had violated the mascots' sacred code.

Reassuringly, we're reminded the next day that some mascots have better restraint. Striding up to the Argo Bounce (R.I.P.), we attempt to goad him into talking. When he holds firm, we inform him that the Hamilton mascot talks. This earns us only a curt nod, and the Argo Bounce promptly makes his escape, on to thrill the masses with his silent charm. And we nod, this time in approval rather than lechery, knowing that this is a mascot.

This has been your Grey Cup moment. 

With our four-day Winnipeg binge drawing tantalizingly, alarmingly close, there's only one way to get into the spirit - fuzzy reminiscing about drunken moments at Grey Cup parties, Grey Cup afterparties, and maybe even Grey Cup games. Today, we start with a particularly touching story about a retired receiver's allegedly busy hands.

***

Allow us to set the scene. It's Grey Cup '05, in Vancouver, and we're in Riderville. On the balcony, there's a middle-aged gentleman in green dreadlocks oggling unsuspecting young women entering the nightclub below, and occasionally informing them that "I've got my eye on you." In the bathroom, there's a copious supply of green vomit and a Saskatchewanian explaining that it represents "Rider pride." In the main room, the Alouettes' and Eskimos' dance teams are having some sort of dance-off that threatens to turn into a brawl. And off to the side, we're chatting with a very affable young fan who opts to tell us about his favourite Grey Cup experience - a story we have some serious doubts about, but find pretty inspiring either way.

According to this legend, he and his then-girlfriend were enjoying the Grey Cup revelry a previous year when they happened upon Darren Flutie, and decided to pose for a photo with him. In the midst of said photo, Flutie supposedly decided it was an opportune moment to grope the young lady's chest (our friend put it slightly less delicately) - and then proceded to explain that this sort of interaction between players and fans is what makes the Grey Cup so great.

Again, we have no idea if this actually happened. But it doesn't much matter. The best part wasn't the alleged groping, or even Flutie's supposed explanation of what a wondrous experience it is to be touched inappropriately by him - it's that the fan was firmly of the view that the best possible thing that could happen to him at the Grey Cup was for his girlfriend to be fondled by a CFL player. Or, as he put it: "That was the greatest picture ever."

This has been your Grey Cup moment. 

We've spent three days trying to figure out what exactly went wrong on Saturday afternoon - and how to prevent it from happening again in the East Semi-Final. Now, the so-called "experts" will tell you that the Argos' big mistake was abandoning the run in the fourth quarter, and they're probably right. (As proof the Argos have absolutely no idea what to do with Ricky Williams, the dude was playing special teams on the opening kickoff - and the Argos were the ones kicking.) But from where we were sitting, there were a couple of other factors that towered over that one.

The first, it almost goes without saying, was local man-about-town and Boatmenblog nemesis Frank D'Angelo. Forcing D'Angelo upon us once this season was more than enough. But bringing him back for an encore halftime performance - that was just cruel. And it was terrible karma - not so much because the Argos forced innocent fans to suffer through it, but because they were complicit in the humiliation of presumably innocent Steelback employees. One minute you're minding your own business, polishing your resume so you can send it to Labatt's; the next, you're being dragged up before 38,000 people to join the "Steelback 2-4" as an amateur trombonist or backup singer. It's not hard to understand why these people looked so embarrassed - even Ben Johnson apparently took a miss on this. ("Sorry, Frank...I'm happy to do those commercials, but I'm worried this might be a little undignified...")

So, yeah...no D'Angelo on Sunday, please. And you know what else? Enough with the free junk, too.

We know this sounds crazy. But if you're wondering why the whole stadium was so flat in the second half - a mood that seemed to rub off on the Argos - it's probably best to start with the avalanche of crap that began after half time and carried on throughout the third quarter.

It's well-established that even the most useless free stuff turns otherwise intelligent people into morons. (For proof, consider that day each spring when Baskin Robbins offers free ice cream. If you went up to any of those people at the back of the hour-long lineup and told them they could move to front if they paid $3, how many would turn you down?) So  for some reason, fans who've paid $40 for a ticket to a football game will happily forego watching that game in order to devote full attention to trying to catch an ugly t-shirt that they will never, ever wear.

The Argos presumably know this. They also know that an engaged, noisy crowd is a major advantage for the home team - especially in the second half of a tight game. This would be why Jonathan Brown and Michael Fletcher will likely be seeking treatment in the off-season for repeat stress disorder from all that time waving their arms in the air trying to generate noise.

So next time, how 'bout we save the t-shirt tosses for commercial breaks. Or, better, scrap them entirely. As an added  bonus, this will enable those of us actually interested in the game to watch it, rather than catching the occasional glimpse through a maze of grasping arms. And it will help prevent Maude Flanders-style tragedies, which apparently are not as uncommon as one would think.

It's the end of the regular season, and much like the end of any Rodney Dangerfield movie, we here at Boatmen Blog will celebrate the season's close with a raucous party set to the music of Journey. Hopefully, it'll be celebrating an Argos win.  That's the way we need it.

Rusty's Picks:

Saskatchewan at Edmonton

You hate to see these games at the end of the year that don’t mean anything to either of the teams. They’ll go through the motions because they’re forced to, while the fans in the stands display varying degrees of indifference or drunkenness.

Basically, this is the CFL’s version of a shotgun wedding. Hopefully, for all of our sakes, the Dannys will get an annulment on Saturday and we can forget that this one ever happened.

Pick: Edmonton

Montreal at Toronto

Wait a minute… Was the Don’s “retirement” all just a clever ruse so that he could spend the last month videotaping Argos coaches himself? Bravo, Don. You are the master.

Pick: Toronto

BC at Winnipeg

Shouldn’t someone be telling Winnipeg fans that even if the Bombers win this game, they still won’t get a home game? Crossover teams have to play on the road - it’s the rule.

Pick: BC

A-Rad's Picks:

Saskatchewan at Edmonton

You know, of all the many important things we do on this site, these blurbs for three or four games are the most challenging and the most time-consuming. And yet, somehow, both Rusty and I have managed to find something at least tangentially connected to each game to post about. But in the regular season's final week, it's time to admit I've found my Waterloo. Because there is nothing whatsoever even remotely interesting about this game.

All I can really add is that I assume the two Dannys referred to by Rusty are Messrs Maciocia and Barrett, not Eskimos alumnus Danny McManus. Because I'm pretty sure Danny Mac only goes to weddings classy enough to have an open bar and a really good buffet. 

Pick: Edmonton

Montreal at Toronto

There were many things to like about Ricky Williams' hour-long interview on The Fan on Thursday. His praise for Canadian culture...his unexpected declaration of his love for Family Guy...his telephone chat with Jim Brown, in which he informed his old friend that the Argos had "at least three, maybe four" games left - meaning the only question in his mind is whether they have to play an extra game before winning the Grey Cup. But there was also one genuinely disurbing aspect - his nicknames for his teammates.

"Crouchie"? "Brucie?" I'd always assumed that hockey players were the only guys who thought a nickname involved sticking an "ie" - or, if they're really imaginative, a "sie" on the end of surnames. Of all the things to take home from Canada, Ricky, this is what you've chosen?

Pick: Toronto

BC at Winnipeg

The common wisdom on this game is that it means a lot more to the Bombers. I'm not so sure about that. I mean, we all know how much Dave Ritchie means to the Lions. And surely nothing would please the Evil Fish more than depriving the team that unceremoniously dumped him two years ago of a home playoff game. Except, you know, a lifetime supply of this stuff.

 
Bonus pick: 

All of the Argos have been injured in practice, leaving Pinball to play the Als by himself. When he finds out about this, Jack Todd - still basking in the glory of riding Don Matthews out of town for inflicting a grave injustice upon ticket scalpers - insists on celebrating by playing against Pinball himself. The Als, tired of Todd telling them all the things they should be doing differently, decide to let him. How does Pinball do?*

Rusty's Pick: Pinball 4000, Jack Todd 2. (Todd goes back to the dressing room after the game and yells at himself in the mirror. He then calls for his immediate firing - not because of the score, but because of his hostility to the media.)

A-Rad's pick: Pinball 612, Jack Todd 0 (The score would be even higher, except for Pinball deciding to settle some old scores once the game is out of reach. Remembering Todd's suggestion that the Als would win the 2004 East Final because they had a head coach and the Argos only had a cheerleader, Pinball spends the entire fourth quarter beating Todd senseless with a pair of pom-poms.)

Today, a gentleman going by the name of "Shoomy" joins us a special guest Boatmenblogger. He's managed to score this sweet, sweet gig because he's one of our most reliably entertaining commenters (see where it can get you?), he sits next to us at Argos games, and he's almost certainly the only guy in Toronto with a genuine certified Jerome Davis jersey. In his Boatmenblog debut, he explains that last part - which, it must be said, is especially endearing to those of us who've had our very own awkward conversations with Jerome Davis.

***

I became an Argo season ticket holder for the first time this year. It wasn’t a tough decision. The tickets are reasonably priced, I enjoy football and my good friends (and Argo superfans) Rusty, A-Rad and Cowbell Jenny had a spare seat open up beside them. I jumped at the chance. A far more difficult decision - one that took me the bulk of the season - was deciding what Argo jersey to buy.

My first instinct was to go for a novelty jersey. I thought I would try to distance myself from casual fans and endear myself to my new Hard Core Argo fun tribe by not selecting the off-the-rack jerseys offered at the Argodome. Looking toward former NFL disciplinary cast-offs, I researched whether R. J. Soward did drugs. I'm pretty sure he did, but outside of killing my NFL fantasy team a few years ago, he hasn't committed any especially exotic crimes. I  secretly wished that Onterrio Smith was picked up by the Argos - then I would have the double-pleasure of not worrying about peeing myself in a fit of excitement or intoxication, since I could simply blame it on my whizzinator malfunctioning - but sadly it wasn't to be.

From NFL substance abusers, I moved to random non-import players just happy to be in the league. The Argos have some great ones, Yorga (if he has a first name, I don't want to know it) and David Azzi being my favorite. Happily, that would leave open the possibility of actually being mistaken for an Argo should I wear my jersey to a bar after the game. Okay, I'll never be mistaken for Yorga, listed as 6'7'’ and 300 pounds - but seriously, does anyone really know what David Azzi looks like? Would Spergon Wynn know? Could I tell him I was David Azzi and scoop in on some of his cast-offs at the clubs?

The plan seemed perfect, except for the very real possibility that a non-import, non-impact player might not be an Argo for very long. At least Mookie Mitchell- whose outdated jersey I was borrowing from Rusty for the bulk of the season - is still in the league. An Azzi jersey without an Azzi on the Argos would be about as dated as those original Simpsons episodes where Waylon Smithers was black.

It wasn't until the Labour Day Classic that I settled on my jersey to-be. While it was Damon’s night, there was one Argo who stood out to any fan close enough to get a good look. He was stomping around the sidelines, firing up his own teammates, encouraging Toronto fans to make noise at the appropriate times and playfully sparring with Hamilton fans. Plus, he was a bald man with a beard. I don’t know why, but that always kills me.

I did some research on this player, and found that while never drafted, he had been on and off four practice rosters before  making a few starts in the NFL. He was an All-NFL Europe selection and was converted from a defensive lineman to an offensive lineman. He also works as a financial advisor in the off-season (during the season, the money he manages is presumably on its own). In his senior season of college, he was given the Paul Giel Award for total unselfishness and most concern for the University of Minnesota. His resumé reads like his first impression - a guy who genuinely loves to play football and be a part of a football team. Unfortunately, it doesn't boast any drug convictions - but nobody's perfect.

In my fraternity we used to consult the big list of famous alums and invite them to our initiations and big events. David Letterman, Mike Ditka, John Wayne and Jack Layton (yes, Jack Layton) all declined our request. Only Tom Selleck returned out invitation, with a letter of regret and a sweet Magnum PI autographed picture (one of many reasons why I love Tom Selleck). But Jerome Davis strikes me as a guy who would come to the dance.

So I was sold. The only question left was whether he'd be around next year. Considering that last weekend he was wearing an Argo touque during an indoor game, it's probably safe to conclude that we aren’t going to lose him to Winnipeg anytime soon.

From this point forward, I'll be praying that he does stick around. For one thing, he appears to be a good player and a likeable guy. More importantly, I put way too much thought into this jersey to have it backfire on me. And unlike my season ticket, it was bloody expensive.

This is the time of year when we start to spend a little too much time thinking about the health of placekickers and/or the exact moment at which whatever team Wally Buono is coaching will begin its annual meltdown.

Now, you could spend your day browsing a dozen different websites looking for any smidgeon of information on such subjects. And admittedly, if you're in one of those jobs where you need to kill hours at a time, that's probably your best option. But if you actually have stuff to do, we heartily recommend our daily CFL newswatch.

Remember: It's all the CFL headlines you need, without Jack Todd ever rearing his ugly head. 

For those of you whose week got off to a disastrous start because you can't live without your Monday Morning Boatmenblog, we sincerely apologize. Such is what happens when we exit the weekend in a state of shock.

It wasn't just Friday night's debacle against the 'Riders, though watching Damon Allen age in front of our eyes was a pretty bad start. The thing is, we actually witnessed a more miserable game later in the weekend, when we took a trip down to scenic Buffalo to take a gander at football so bad, it would've embarrassed the Ticats.

Understand that we have no particular affinity for any NFL team, and certainly not the Bills. But when they're bad, there may be no more depressing place to be in North America than Buffalo. (There may not be a more depressing place to be in North America regardless, but that's another story.) And the Bills aren't just bad - they're awful. And they were playing the Patriots. And it was pouring rain. And, this being Buffalo, most of the fans were drunk. But they weren't even aggressive, which somehow would've been reassuring. They were more glumly resigned to their fate than anything else. When your quarterback gets hit and the fans are yelling at him to stay down, you've achieved a level of pathos rarely matched in a sports stadium.

So, yeah...there was that. And if that wasn't enough, we're also still recovering from Linda Frum's bizarro interview with Ricky Williams in Saturday's National Post. It's not so much all of Ricky's new-age stuff that weirds us out; that's pretty much old news by now. It's that he's somehow got Keith Pelley into it to the extent that Pelley now leads relaxation exercises in which he urges his followers to "push our worries and the toxins that poison our systems out of our bodies, via our scalps." So now we not only have to worry about the Argos' fate heading into the playoffs; we also have to worry that in a year's time, they're going to host one truly messed-up Grey Cup week.

As you can tell, what we needed to get us back on track was a bit of good news. Something so positive that it would push everything else out of our minds - or get those nasty toxins out of our heads, if you prefer. And thankfully, one of our favourite multi-tasking Argos stepped to the plate.

That's right...at long last, J-Dubbs is back. Now, admittedly, his review of Gridiron Gang - which apparently boasts "more than a handful of clips that will make you well up in that manly let me make sure my girl ain't looking kinda way" - didn't quite put us over the top. But then...bam! In comes the random Teen Wolf plug. And just like that, our hearts are won again.

One of these days, we're seriously going to have to host the first annual J-Dubbs Film Festival. In the meanwhile, let's just celebrate that this officially makes him the most productive running back in Toronto.