It was supposed to be like every other Toronto FC matchday. I would get excited when I wake up. I would hop on the train to BMO Field while downing a few beverages, and enjoy myself at the stadium with singing, chanting, and generally just acting a fool.
On one beautiful June day at BMO Field, things were different.
BMO Field is the one place where I can truly feel like myself. BMO Field is the place where I can get away from the pressures and stresses of life. In the real world, it may seem to someone that I am normal, but when I go to watch Toronto FC, there is a primal instinct that takes over me. Toronto FC, despite being a terrible team and organization, got me through some very bad times in my life. For that, I have nothing but the greatest gratitude. For 90 minutes, I completely block out everything else going on in the world. This was the place where I can be me, and where I won't be judged. Never would I think that the troubles in my daily life and my enjoyment of matches at BMO Field would mix in any way. It just couldn't, right?
However, on that June day at BMO Field, I knew she would be there.
She was a girl I knew from university. We would chat regularly on social media and occasionally we would meet up in person to hang out over a drink or two. She was a wonderful girl, and she was the person who I enjoyed the company of the most during my time at university. Admittedly, I did have some feelings for her, but I never confessed it to her, due to the fear that it may negatively affect our friendship. Also, around the beginning of 2014, the last time we saw each other before the June TFC match, she was going through relationship difficulties, and I was dating a girl myself. The feelings still lingered inside me, and I occasionally thought about breaking up with my (then) girlfriend for a shot at her.
I would sometimes tell her about my trials and tribulations as a Toronto FC supporter, and despite never going to a match, she seemed interested in going at some point. I was a bit taken back when she texted me that she would be going to her first TFC match on that June day. I didn't ask her who she was going with, but I did ask where she was sitting, so that I may find her during the match.
I was in a state of anxiety. As I've explained, Toronto FC is where I get away from everything in life, including speaking to her. It's not meant to be taken as an offence, but watching Toronto FC is the best place to clear my head, and it is my personal "inner sanctum" to engage in chanting, drinking, and other fun things. To have her there at the match where I get away from everything worried me greatly. When if she sees me at the match, and I'm leading or taking part in some of the chants, or drinking heavily and swearing excessively at opposing players.
Even worse than that, I was extremely worried about who she might be going with. When if it was her boyfriend, whether her old one, or someone else she met. Did I mention that I had strong feelings for her, stronger than any crush or girlfriend I ever had? For a time, I genuinely thought she was "the one". To see her cozying up with some guy at the place where I am the happiest in life would destroy me emotionally and psychologically. Guess what? I was in for a serious dose of reality.
The day started seemingly normal. I met a buddy of mine at the train station and we took the train to the match. I packed a potent concoction of Wray and Nephew and orange juice to sip on, so I was already liquored up by the time we got to BMO Field. On that train ride, I felt the anxiety build in me, which the alcohol may have made a sizeable contribution to. Of course, I had the usual pre-match jitters, but my anxiety was amplified by the fact that she was going to be at the match, possibly with someone such as a boyfriend. I had to get to the bottom of this, because it was killing me inside. I made the decision to go see her at half-time, since I knew what section she was sitting in.
I met another buddy of mine, and we all went to the north patio to watch the first-half. I remember the match quite well, actually. Toronto FC were up against the San Jose Earthquakes, and Jermain Defoe scored a penalty to make it 1-0 to TFC. That score remained until half-time. I told my buddies that I was going to see someone at half-time, and that I may or may not come back for the second half. The halftime whistle blew, and at this point, I was a dangerous mix of anxiousness and drunkenness. I left the north patio and began to walk what seemed like a never-ending staircase up to the west grandstand with my overpriced beer. I wished that staircase actually was never-ending, because what I saw shocked me.
As soon as I walked to the top of the stairs and looked over to the entrance of Section 127, she walked out, holding the hand of another man. My heart dropped, and I felt my chest get tighter. It was almost like I couldn't move, like a black hole formed inside my body and proceeded to internally tear me apart. At this point, I felt like I was on autopilot. I had to go investigate.
They were walking away from where I was, so I approached them from behind and tapped her on the shoulder. She seemed happy to see me, and on the surface I was also happy to see her, but on the inside, my pain was unbearable. She introduced me to her boyfriend, who seemed like a nice guy. He was a big Toronto FC supporter, like myself, so at least we had something in common. We made small talk, I asked them about the match and about her first experience at BMO Field watching TFC. I couldn't really remember what they said, because I was still dealing with the metaphorical kick in the groin when I first saw them.
We parted ways after some conversation and I went back to the north patio where my buddies were. I told them all about my situation, and their understanding made me feel a bit better, and to get my mind back on the match. At that point, I did everything I could to make myself forget about what happened at halftime. I drank more, I led chants, and I abused opposing players (without going overboard). It was a great short-term remedy, but when I got back home after the match, the thoughts about that moment began to creep back into my mind. I even went into a depression for a few days.
This happened about 9 months ago at the time of writing this post, and it is okay for me to finally tell this story. This is behind me now, but I still have some worries that are still lingering. I am a 2015 Toronto FC season ticket holder, and I will most likely be at all the Toronto FC matches at BMO Field. I'll be honest, I don't really want to run into them again. It's something that I am still not comfortable with, but knowing that around 30,000 people will be at the stadium for a TFC home game, the chances of me encountering them should be minimal. The girl and I also haven't really spoke since that June day, and honestly, I don't really have a desire to talk to her again. However, I am open to rekindling our friendship. I'm not sure, only time will tell. I do wish her all the best, though. I will treasure the good times we had together.
Felt good to finally get that off my chest. It felt like a huge weight lifted off my shoulders.
