Video Vic at the Edmonton Eskimo game — July 28, 2017 (Order No. 5)

I’m Grandma Anderson. Welcome, welcome, welcome!


Hi there. I want you to meet an old customer, Video Vic.  He is a great sports fan and former producer at a national network. But lost his job when he went on the air, and, on live television, reported the Toronto Maple Leafs beat the Calgary Stampeders 17-12 in the Stanley Cup that turned Grey.


Anyway, Video Vic’s hobby is clipping video from sports events and sending them to me. So I’m going to share some of Vic’s work tonight from the Eskimo game.


So … here’s Video Vic!

Is it on yet?

Oh, hello. I’m just out the press box at The Brick Field at Commonwealth Stadium and I can’t get in the press box because my I was mowing the grass today and, I had my press pass in my pocket because I didn’t want to forget it. But it fell. And in the tall grass. And then our dog, Sparky, ate it. Really.

So I’m sitting in the stands, keeping my eye on the game. And I’m going to share. Like, I think I figured out what the B.C. Lions signal is for short yardage.


Part III: Cam plays Hugh, and Hugh plays Cam … or, something like that

Hugh Campbell and I were just about to go on stage at the Santa Maria Goretti Community Centre when a look of concern washed over his face.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” he said.

“C’non. It will be fun,” I assured him.

“Yeah, but — you swear and drink beer. And I never, hardly ever swear. I hate  beer. Just ask my wife. And I don’t want people to get the wrong impression.”

I laughed. “They won’t. They know you too well.”

It was December of 1987. Hugh was back in Edmonton as general manager of the Edmonton Eskimos. We had a strong friendship and I was lucky enough to be invited to the staff Eskimo Christmas party.

After dinner, there were skits put on by staff. Hugh and I had — key word: had — the same hair cuts. Before dinner after my third beer, I suggested a skit for the two of us.

Role reversal. He’d me. I’d be him.

He pushed me out on to the stage and then it was poetry in motion. Hugh helped me out of my wheelchair and sit in a chair. He then got in my wheelchair.

I gave him my beer with a straw.

“What do I do with this?” he asked.

“Drink it and have a good time.”

We had fun. In my role, I asked Cam — see, I got it going on — if he needed a ride home, or if he had a new date, or if he wanted to go for a milkshake.

Hugh — or Cam — answered my questions and then threw in of his own.

At the end of our five minutes of fame, Hugh took a sip of my beer.

“It tastes terrible,” he said.

“It tastes like … shit.”

A true role player, indeed.


Part II: The Name Game … With Hugh Campbell

My friend!

I felt a real connection with Hugh as a friend and someone I could call and asked about … anything. And, I did.

“Ok,” he’d say whenever I called him with a challenge, which usually involved a latest girlfriend — or, at least I thought she was a girlfriend, and planned a blissful life together — who put me on waivers, without the right to recall.

“We’ll go for a drive.”

We always stopped for a milkshake. Hugh enjoyed vanilla and I sipped chocolate. Sometimes we’d sit for an hour in a parking lot talking and laughing.

Hugh dropped me off back at work and I felt better.

“You’ll meet someone new soon. Call me with an update,” he said.

And he was right: within a few weeks, I’d be back on the telephone — these were the mid 1980’s when email wasn’t around — telling Hugh that, once again, I met someone new who, no questions asked, would be my future wife.

“What’s her name?” Hugh asked.

With glee, I’d tell him. And then he’d add a name.

There was Caring Karen. And Jolly Janice. Wonderful Wendy, too. Judy the Gem, even though Judy is spelled with a J.

In 1988. I bought a house in west Edmonton. Hugh came for a backyard visit with, of course, a milkshake. I was single at the time.

He squinted as he looked up at the bright afternoon sun.

“Since you’re not married yet, we’ll call this The House Without a Spouse.”


He kept adding names to the lovely women who accepted a date invitation. There was It’s you Sue, Lorraine you give me no pain. Dawne, don’t be gone.

Then, in 1995, I met Joan, who became my wife. We got married on Nov. 11, 1995, the day before the Eskimos met the Stampeders in Calgary in the CFL western final.

“I don’t know if I can be there. I hear there’s a football game the next day I might, just might, be interested in,” Hugh said.

Totally understandable. But then, 15 minutes before our wedding, Hugh and his wife Louise walked into the church with a gift wrapped in dark green paper with a golden bow on top: Eskimo colours.

Now the name Hugh picked for Joan.

“I hope you don’t get mad at me for this one,” he said.

“How ‘bout Joan, you make me moan?”

…. with Hugh plays Cam, and Cam plays Hugh