Calgary Stampeders are Canadian Football Softies

My father was a lovely man. He was kind and gentle to all living things. Everyone came to him for advice, not because he was so wise (which I believe he was), but because he would make you think of the other side of the coin, to consider "the other guy's feelings." He didn't tell you what to do, but let you to consider all options, then make your own decision.

I married and moved away from Nfld to Calgary, Alberta. We loved it here and thought it was the best place to raise our two young daughters. The only fly in the ointment was that my father wouldn't come visit. I believe deep down that he was afraid to fly and couldn't admit it. The only times I got to see him was when we could save up the money for the four of us to fly home to Nfld. to see him. You can imagine what that cost!

My eldest daughter started at a new school for grade one. She was a bit timid and didn't make new friends easily. Her first day on the school bus, another girl her own age got on the bus and sat across from her. They shyly glanced at each other occasionally but each didn't want the other to know she was the subject of scrutinization (you can picture it, can't you?). When they got to the school yard the other girl looked over and said, "Would you like to play with me in the playground?" That was it...they made fast friends.

Now, you are probably wondering what this has to do with my father. Does this lady go off on many tangents, you might be thinking. Hang on. It will all become clear soon. I promise.

Well, the little girl, Dayna, was all I heard about for the next few weeks. One Friday, my daughter, Stephanie, asked if she could invite Dayna over to play the next afternoon. I said that she could ask her but have Dayna to ask her Mom to call me. I knew that she probably wouldn't want her child to go visit the home of complete strangers. Well, I had a lovely chat to Dayna's mother that evening and hung up the phone thinking my child would do all right in the world if she could choose friends from such nice families. ( I was right, by the way).

The next afternoon the car pulled into my driveway and a little girl and her Dad got out. He was obviously a very fit man. In fact his shoulders looked almost as wide as he was tall. His little girl was almost a clone of her Dad. She had the most beautiful thick, curly, dark hair and the shy smile that melts your heart. He came to the door and introduced himself as Wally. When he shook my hand, it felt lost as if I were trying on a baseball glove. I thought, "Good Lord this man has huge hands, he should play football or something." He apologized for his wife, who was sitting in the car with the baby. She waved at me in a friendly fashion and again, I was left with the comfortable feeling you get when you are around kind people.

Little Dayna was a treat to be around. She was, and I'm sure is to this day, a sweet, kind girl who will go far in life.

After a few months of such play-dates, back and forth at each other's houses, Dayna's Mom called and asked if they could take Stephanie to a football game. I didn't know a darn thing about football. When I grew up in Nfld., we got two television stations and both usually aired hockey. Occasionally a football game would come on and my Dad would want to watch, but since none of us girls really knew how it was played, we usually didn't watch. Of course you know that, more often than not, we whined until he changed the channel. Poor man! So, as you can see, Stephanie was raised by a mother who was totally football illiterate and a father who wasn't much better. I agreed that she could go to the game ( I didn't want my ignorance to stop her) and she came home regaling us with wonderful stories of watching the game on the sidelines and meeting all the players. I was totally baffled until I spoke to the Mom that night to thank them for the wonderful day they had given Stephanie. Naturally, I asked how they had gotten down on the playing field. I honestly thought the Dad must have won a radio contest or something, you know, one of those "Be coach for a Day" contests or some such thing. It turned out that Dad was the quarter-back coach for the Stampeders Football Team!

I felt very embarrassed that I hadn't recognized his name when I heard it, but again, football was not part of my life up to that time. When I sheepishly admitted all of this to the Mom, Sandee, she took it upon herself that she would teach me how football was played. They invited us to games where Sandee would dutifully instruct me as to what was happening on the field and the basics of how the game was played. It was so exciting! I loved it and watching anything live is so much more fun than watching on television.

Now, back to my father. My dear old Dad had been failing over the past few years. He had undergone a quadruple coronary bypass surgery and an aortic aneurysm repair in the space of five years and was now having almost constant chest discomfort and pain through his upper back. Being a nurse, I knew this couldn't be good, but you always hope that things will "improve". Dad did like football very much and, when we moved to Calgary, he started rooting for the Stampeders. When he knew that we occasionally went to games with the Buono's, he would watch to see if he could see us in shots of the crowd. He also wanted to be able to discuss the plays of the games with my husband on the telephone. When my Dad sounded like he was getting worse chest discomfort all the time, I made the decision to take the girls and go home to visit them for Easter. My husband couldn't get time away from his medical practice at that time, but I felt that the girls and I needed to go. Since Dad was such a fan, I asked Wally Buono if he would sign his autograph on a piece of paper for my Dad and I'd bring it home to him. I hate asking for favours, but I knew my Dad would be thrilled. Wally said he would but he never mentioned it again and several days passed. Our trip was getting closer and I didn't want to push him. I knew how busy he was and I certainly didn't want to impose. The night before we left, my doorbell rang and, you guessed it, there was Wally Buono with, not the note I had asked for, but a football that he had asked the team to sign. On it he had a written a small message personally to my Dad.

When I arrived in Nfld. and presented the gift to my father, he was truly speechless. He was getting choked up with emotion. Of all the gifts I have ever seen anyone give him, he was only ever dumbstruck by this one.

The day before I left to come back to Calgary, my Dad was absent for most of the day. I thought he was in the basement workshop but I didn't know what he could be up to. As I was finishing packing my bags that night, he came into my room and showed me his hat badge from his fireman's helmet. My father had been a member of the St. John's Fire Dept. for 37 years and was truly proud of the experience. He had been shining and polishing his hat badge and had put it in a little box with a note for Wally Buono. He felt that Wally had given him something special from his line of work. Now my Dad wanted to reciprocate. I didn't know what to do. Wally signs footballs for people all the time. He maybe didn't think of this a a big deal at all, but it obviously was to my father.

When I returned to Calgary, I paid the Buonos a visit. I told Wally how much my father liked the ball and gave him the box that held the badge. I could see that he was quite confused at first and I was worried he would laugh or scoff. That would have killed me since I knew how much this gift meant to my father. Wally stared at the badge for a few minutes and then he looked at me and said, "This is very special. Someday, your Dad will not be with us anymore and this is something that the family should have. I want to give this to you to keep for your family." He didn't refuse the gift. He didn't scoff it off. He knew how much this meant to my father and was in turn giving it to me as he knew I would treasure it.

Seven weeks later, my father passed away suddenly of a heart attack. From the time I left from my vacation in Nfld. until the week before he died, he spent every spare moment in the basement making a small wooden stand to cradle that ball. It sat proudly on his mantle in the living room of their home. He carved the wood and sanded it by hand.

I have the ball displayed on my mantle now. I also still have the badge tucked away in the same box Dad put it in.



We don't see the Buonos much anymore. Our little girls are now in their 20's and living in distant places. Every time I see Wally Buono on the television, I think of the special gifts he gave. One to my father and one to me. He will always be a special man to me.

© Newfie June




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