Made of People

I remember rubbing my hands together over and over again, pacing back and forth near the 50-yard line, interrupted by several pauses to look around to see how fast the stands were filling up.

Anyone taking notice would have just assumed I was trying to keep warm, naturally, as it was several notches below freezing. But ultimately, I was nervous.

Grey Cup 104 was about to begin, but all I could think about was the roller-coaster of a week that was…

A lopsided match-up on paper. A race to keep up with emails, calls and voice mails. An awesomely executed CFL Awards night. The first-ever LGBTQ Grey Cup party. The hustle to sell out our championship game. The Pizza Pizza issue. The Spirit of Edmonton party, when I finally got in. The late night prep session with the Commissioner. Staff meetings and dress rehearsals to get every single detail perfect. Working with One Republic. The hangovers. Waking up to 6am notifications on my Blackberry before my alarm went off.

All of it running furiously in my mind.

I took several more deep breaths, like my Cognitive Behavioural Therapy training had taught me, and I just observed. Stay focused, my inside voice repeated.

Atmosphere mounting, the seats were getting full. Fans were drinking. Loads of colours decorated BMO Field from all nine teams (and yes, even a few Stallion fans and those dreamers reppin’ the Atlantic Schooners). Despite that array of colours, the stands behind me somehow looked, felt and sounded like an Ottawa home game.

Another breath. The deepest yet. Then, a smile. Finally, it happened. I was present. Settled. The preparations were set. Nothing else mattered at that very moment. Millions were starting to tune in. I felt the ratings pressure in my gut. Or was it my throat?

It was go time.

I looked over at some of my colleagues lining the rest of the sidelines. Discreet winks. Sudden head nods. A valiant thumbs up even. I smiled in return.

And then the cue… “Ladies and Gentlemen, please rise for the singing of our national anthem, O’Canada.”

Chills. The Tenors killed it.

Red and white placards forming our beloved Maple Leaf in the stands and on screen, the playoff beards on several players, Coach Rick Campbell looking around basking in the same moment I too was absorbing, close-up camera shots on players with that look in their eyes (you know the one that tells you they’re ready to go), that smile by Coach Dave Dickenson near the anthem’s end, and finally the perfect timing of that deafening fly over, shaking the grounds of the historic Exhibition grounds.

I had to hold back swallowing for a few seconds because I knew if I did, watery eyes would turn to tears. I looked over at one of my colleagues, wiping tears from her own eyes. This moment reiterated for me just how powerful sport can be and how incredibly special our three down game still was.

All of it together formed the perfect sports moment. And perhaps even more: the perfect Canadian moment. It was yet another reminder for me that I was one of the luckiest Canadians, not only living in the best country in the world, but because I actually got to call moments like this… work.

There were so many other amazing experiences in these past three seasons, too: announcing the Violence Against Women policy in Vancouver; tailgating with my childhood friends in a Hamilton East alleyway; seeing Jon Cornish carrying the Grey Cup into a Toronto gay bar; sitting at the boardroom table with two other colleagues as “Diversity is Strength” took form; learning from working with Commissioner Jeffrey Orridge (the first black Commissioner in pro sport); taking You Can Play into the Alouettes’ locker room with more than 50 players respectfully talking through the Michael Sam situation; having a drink in a sea of green at the old Mosaic Stadium; seeing young Winnipeg fans bringing the Rum Hut to life; the first time CNN emailed me a media request; suit shopping with Brad Sinopoli, Greg Ellingson and Mike Reilly; meeting Warren Moon; fist-pumping Pinball; and finally shaking hands with Danny McManus who I watched so often at old Ivor Wynne.

All of this and so many more moments will forever remain with me. Growing up as a Hamilton kid in the rugged streets of the North End, the CFL has and always will be part of my DNA — I wouldn’t have it or want it any other way.

And now, as I prepare to move onto my next adventure, I wanted to take the opportunity to thank everyone that I had the privilege of working with and for these last three seasons, and to let them know how much it all has meant to me.

At the heart of the CFL is one undeniable and paramount asset: its people. They are a committed calvary working every single day behind the scenes (at the League Office and in each of our markets) to preserve a great national institution; the most vocal and passionate fans (all 12 million of you across the country, no matter what colour you wear); and above all, the kindest, most accessible world-class athletes with so many compelling stories still untold.

I’m sad to be saying goodbye to friends and colleagues, yes. But I’m also really excited to just be a fan again, and that has always been a pretty amazing feeling.

So, to everyone involved with the CFL: take care of each other and thank you for always making me feel like family.

Paulo Senra is a lifelong Canadian Football fan and has been the CFL’s Director of Communications for the past three seasons. His last day in the role is October 19, 2017. He begins his new position as Head of PR for Canada at DAZN on October 23, 2017.