Today, you get a special two-coach deal. Why? Because tomorrow is the Grey Cup, and I’m saving my very, very favourite CFL Coach look-alike for tomorrow.
The Hamilton Tiger Cats (otherwise known as the Ti-Cats) have a long and proud football tradition. Which includes losing to the Saskatchewan Roughriders, except on those occasions when we totally suck and can’t manage to actually join the game until just after the game is over. Sad, that game was. Sad.
The coach for the Hamilton Ti-Cats is terribly cute. I mean, he is seriously cute. In that “Don’t you wink at *me*, Marcel Bellefeuille, unless you plan on buying me a sodie pop after the game” sort of way. Incidentally, doesn’t “bellefeuille” mean “beautiful leaf”?
Well. Mr. Pretty Leaf was a difficult coach to match. Not as difficult at the Montreal Alouettes coach, who only looks like a celebrity in terms of this guy what we know. But I’m getting ahead of myself. I want you to compare the following two images and see if it is or if it is not the *same facial expression*…or at least a strikingly similar facial expression:
|This is the head coach of the Hamilton Ti-Cats.|
In French, his name means “beautiful leaf”. He is pretty cute.
|This is Dr. Leonard “Bones” McCoy. He’s a doctor, not a linebacker.|
Because he is the Man of Many (Pretty Leaf) Faces, it also became apparent to me that in more dramatic conditions, during those times when the lights are low, when sultry music is playing in the background…maybe there are garlic butter escargot and a two-hundred dollar bottle of wine on the table…when Marcel is speaking in low, dulcet tones…it occurs to me that Marcel Bellefeuille bears a striking resemblance to another Mystery Man:
|Marcel “Pretty Leaf” Bellefeuille…or…||Jean Claude Van Damme (aka Jean Van Goddamn Clam)|
Then again, in certain other poses:
|Marcel “Beautiful Leaf”|
I think the Ti-Cats’ uniforms lend themselves nicely to the X-Men and certain Transformers.
I promised you two coaches, and two coaches you shall have. You may notice a kind of theme emerging in these identification guidelines, and it is a theme or pattern which supposes you have a fairly solid edumacation in things like obscure/nerdy/outdated pop culture. I can *not* watch the Toronto Argonauts without a) feeling a little sorry for Kerry Joseph, who was the quarterback for the Saskatchewan Roughriders when we won the Grey Cup in 2007. He has not been at all successful in Toronto, and I’m not sure if it’s all the smog, or maybe if it’s because he’s just not “meshing” with the team, or whether he’s scared out of his wits because his team is coached by a hideous monster:
|Toronto Argonauts coach Bart Andrus is actually||wolfman/vampire child Eddie Munster|
Okay, maybe a dark, broody Eddie Munster with less eyeliner and more testosterone. But seriously. Eddie Munster. I mean, look at that widow’s peak! Look at it! It’s like Bela Lugosi’s wet dream! Isn’t it wonderful?! (the widow’s peak, not Bela Lugosi’s wet dreams) I mean, grow Eddie up a few years, give him that squinty “are you effing SERIOUS!? THAT is the call you’re going to make?” look, and you’ve got Bart Andrus. Here’s Bela Lugosi’s best widow’s peak:
I mean, same *pose* as Bart, but, well, Bart files his nails, and …um…well, he does loom, but not in such a swoopy way. In fact, I’d like to see Bart Andrus in a stage production of “Dracula”. I’d bet you dollars to doughnuts he wouldn’t bloody sparkle. You can tell that no matter how much Brylcream Bela Legosi uses, he’s never going to have Bart Andrus’ widow’s peak. And correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t “Bart” the perfect name for someone with a widow’s peak like that? I think he should change Toronto’s team colours to purple and black (and silver, for the team ‘whites’) and play the Sisters of Mercy “Vision Thing” for their entrance song:
Heh. “Bart Andrus as Dracula: 100% sparkle-free, and now with 98% less estrogen! Made like a good vampire flick *should* be!” Mr. Andrus, if you’re ever looking for something to do in the off-season, you should call me. I have this idea for this thing at the local theatre…You’d be a shoo-in!
Thus endeth the lesson.