Superfans Assemble!

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This article was published 11/12/2021 (1737 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

HAMILTON — It’s the day before the Grey Cup, and every bar in Hamilton seems to be buzzing, but especially this one: the George Hamilton, it’s called, a quaint corner spot downtown. Outside, the temperature is 17 C, and the wind is so angry it rips a strip off the pub’s wall and hurls it to the ground; but inside, beers flow smooth and the vibe is pure love.

Every table here is taken by fans of one team or another. There are a whole lot for the Ticats, a gaggle for the Riders. A couple in Edmonton jerseys wanders by, and here and there you spot some fans of the Stampeders. It’s a CFL mosaic, in other words, just like every event at Grey Cup Week: but there’s no fan group here bigger than the one that came out for Winnipeg.

At a room near the back, Zach Schnitzer holds court at a table, his laptop and microphone set up before him. This is the first time Schnitzer — a therapist by day — has hosted a live episode of his young podcast, Let’s Go Bombers, an upbeat dive into the team and its thriving superfan culture. Now, about 25 of those fans are surrounding him, cheering along.

The fans come from all over. There is Dick Soble from Michigan, a professional mediator who fell in love with the team when he would come to Winnipeg and go to games with his late friend, Schnitzer’s dad; and there’s Chuck Curti, a copy editor from Pittsburgh who picked the Bombers as his rooting interest in part due to the passion of the team’s fans.

Superfan Don Cruickshank is here, already in full face-paint and blue-and-gold suit at 2 p.m.; and so is the guy we need know only as Sign Guy, from Winkler, whose claim to fame is he makes funny signs and has a hell of a good voice for heckling, which once, they believe, led to a visiting player dropping what would have been a game-winning touchdown.

Across from Schnitzer, Tina Antonation leans over the table to answer the host’s questions. To many fans, she’s best known as Bomber Woman, her superhero alter ego; ever since the 2018 Banjo Bowl, she’s dressed up as the character, turning out to games in gold shorts and a blue top and a gold cape emblazoned with the hashtag #forthewin.

In some ways, Antonation’s fan story is classic. She grew up with the team, watching games with her mom; as an adult, she and a group of girlfriends loved going to games and soaking in the atmosphere in the stands. Antonation is inquisitive and curious by nature, so when she loves something, she dives in; as the years turned, she became a diehard fan.

Creating Bomber Woman, though, was a big step.

“I don’t want to say I’m shy, because I am a bit of an extrovert, but to do something like that, I didn’t know I was going to get as much attention as I did,” she says. “Going in, I was nervous because this is something that I’ve never done. You only see certain people doing this. When I put the outfit on, I needed a little of liquid courage, the first time.”

The costume was a hit; in a way, it becomes an invitation to make connections. Suddenly, other fans were going up to her to take photos and talk about the team. Before long, she was getting quoted in media, getting recognized in her regular clothes at places such as the Red River Ex, and even building rapport with appreciative players.

“It took on a life of its own,” she says.

When Antonation talks about Bomber Woman, an interesting quirk pops out: she refers to the character in the third person. It’s an interesting distinction, because Bomber Woman is, she notes, not so different from herself, in look or behaviour; but as much as the character invites others to connect with her, it also gives her an invitation to let her own self shine.

“She is very much me,” Antonation says. “She helps me be me more, because I held back from doing a lot of things in my life for fear of judgment, and what everybody’s going to think. But this Bomber Woman persona, she’s so confident. She’s caring, she’s out there. She just wants positivity and to help whoever she comes across, and that is very much me.”

This is the kind of conversation Schnitzer hopes to bring more of in Bombers culture. He’d started his podcast more or less by accident, after this year’s Banjo Bowl. He’d gone to the game with his six-year-old daughter and was so hyped up by the win that he downloaded a podcast app and just pressed record and started rambling.

“It was awful,” he says. “It was an awful podcast. I repeated myself so many times, it didn’t make any sense.”

But after reaching out for a bit of guidance from podcast experts, he polished it up, got a theme song and figured out how to record a real podcast. Flash forward three months and has interviewed the likes of Milt Stegall and beloved local radio host Andrew (Hustler) Paterson, as well as superfans such as Antonation, who he now counts as friends.

Now he’s doing his first live podcast, in this brew pub full of fans in jerseys and, also, one newspaper reporter.

“Melissa Martin from the Free Press has just showed up,” he announces to his listeners, and then he puts the microphone in front of my face, and now suddenly I’m part of the podcast, and thus also part of this story.

We chat for a few minutes, about all sorts of things; about the Grey Cup Week, about the charming and disarmingly unique intimacy of the CFL’s connection with its fanbase. But I’m not here to give my thoughts, I’m here to write a piece; with that in mind, I said, could I ask him a question live on his podcast that would then loop right back into my story?

“You take the mic,” he says with some verve, and passes it over.

So this is my question: take this moment, here in this back room at a brew pub in Hamilton, surrounded by fans from across Canada and the United States. What is it about this scene that matters to him?

“Now that’s a good question,” Schnitzer says, and begins to answer.

He loves football, of course. He loves the sport, and the team, and how it “goes to our roots of gladitorial combat.” But above all, he says, it’s about family. At the table next to him, he points out, is his mother-in-law, Sarah Kredentser, who he loves to watch games with, and Soble, who stayed a friend even after Schnitzer’s dad passed, in part bonded over the team.

And he tries, through his podcast, to celebrate the entirety of that fanbase, and push back at tendencies to limit who speaks for the fans. He’s heard from many female fans, for instance, about how some men talk down to them about the Bombers, or football in general; he’s seen some snippy social media comments directed at Antonation, that she “just wants attention.”

Schnitzer rolls his eyes at that.

“You have guys with no shirts on and a fur coat, and (the reaction is) like, ‘Yeah, that guy’s awesome!’” he says. “Tina’s out there showing a bit of skin, and she just wants attention? She loves the team as much as any of us. She knows just as much about football. So one of my passions has been to bring awareness to that.”

After a couple of hours of drinks and loud laughter and lively rolling conversation, Schnitzer wraps up the podcast. The fans begin to trickle out, many planning to take a quick nap before the night’s festivities begin.

Before Antonation heads out, she pauses to give me a hug. Truth is, she and I meeting here is one of those classic Winnipeg moments: we’d worked together at a clothing store once, years ago. We’d lost touch, but I’d always fondly remembered her as kind and bright and absolutely full of life — the same words, come to think of it, that she uses for her character.

Now, here in Hamilton, I am overjoyed to remake the connection; I tell her I’ll see her later that night, out on the town.

“It’s not going to be me you see,” Antonation replies, and winks. “It’s going to be her.”

melissa.martin@freepress.mb.ca