COLUMN: A week fraternizing with Americans

It almost feels like I’m admitting to some sort of transgression when I say that I spent a week in the United States late last month. 

Before you condemn me for supporting the economy of a country hell-bent on destroying ours, let me say that the purpose of the trip was to join others in flying the Canadian flag. 

After our men’s soccer team beat Suriname last fall to qualify for the final four of the Nations League, my son and I began talking about going to the semifinals at SoFi Stadium in Los Angeles the following March. When we looked at the NBA schedule and saw that my beloved Toronto Raptors were playing a five-hour drive away in Phoenix earlier that week, it put trip planning into overdrive. 

Little did we know how much the political climate would change over the next four-plus months, but in the end, we decided to go anyway and proudly wear our Canadian colours. And I have to say, we rarely heard a negative word. 

When the Uber driver taking us to the basketball game asked where we were visiting from, he immediately said, “Sorry, we’re not all like that,” once we told him we were from Canada. He thanked us for visiting and hoped we could be friends again in four years. 

Once at the arena, our Raptors gear stood out in a sea of Suns fans, but all we got was polite nods and smiles, the guy seated next to us happy to chat about his visit to Banff. When the PA announcer asked people to rise for O Canada, he said to do so to honour our friends from north of the border, which elicited cheers, although a solitary boo could be heard from the upper deck during the singing of our anthem. 

Later in the week in LA, the mood was decidedly different, but that had far more to do with the passion of the Mexican fans than anything happening on the trade front. 

The opening game of the soccer doubleheader pitted the U.S. against Panama, a rather dull affair played in front of a sparse crowd that the visitors won in stoppage time on their only shot on goal. Lucky for Trump they weren’t playing for the canal. 

The nightcap was far more spirited as the crowd had swelled to over 50,000 by kick-off and was in full voice after Mexico scored in the opening minute and again after adding a second on a free kick later in the match. Adorned in our Canada gear, we were completely surrounded by Mexican fans, who were proud but polite, offering us first bumps along with well wishes for our third-place game against the Americans, which we won by a 2-1 count three days later. 

Speaking of that game, an American fan, upon seeing my Canada shirt, put his hand on my shoulder and told me how embarrassed he was to see his country defeated by Panama and Canada. Given it was the second time the U.S. had lost to both countries in the last nine months, I could only chuckle at his unwavering arrogance.