PUTTING DOWN THE BEER, PICKING UP A FLAG

You take the long line, and I’ll take the short line
And I’ll have my beer before you
For beer is my true love… and cheering on the ‘Caps
From the bonnie, bonnie banks of the Southside

This tune is heard regularly at Vancouver Whitecaps games, sung by the Southsiders – Canada’s oldest soccer supporters’ group – right before halftime. Beer and soccer. From the fan’s perspective, it’s hard to imagine one without the other. They make an iconic pair.

But, what happens when drinking alcohol isn’t an option anymore? I was a big beer drinker, had been for years and years. Guinness was my favourite, but I’d drink just about anything. I loved the taste, and the way it made me feel was a very-much-welcomed side effect. Well… in the moment, at least.

More and more I was experiencing the negative effects of alcohol. The biggest problem I had was blacking out. Or, more specifically, hurting my family and friends emotionally while blacked out. I’d wake up the next day and learn of all the bad news from the night before. It didn’t feel real. I had no memory of doing this stuff, but it happened. I can’t tell you how scary that feels, not remembering… it’s like living in a nightmare.

I never had problems in the stereotypical way, like drinking in the morning or at work, and I didn’t get wasted every day. It was more that I found it really hard to limit myself once I did get going. I’d either find a way to wiggle away from the plan, or just start knocking ’em back without one. And once I was on the “warpath,” as my partner calls it, it most often was too late. From what I’ve read, an effective term for this behaviour is alcohol abuse.

The main reason I drank – outside of the taste – was because I suffer from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. OCD makes my brain whirl at a crazy pace, and it’s hard to relax. Drinking tended to slow things down. It allowed me to disconnect and be more in the moment. Obviously, I just kept chasing that feeling to the point of blacking out.

I’d made attempts at abstinence before, but the goal was never to stop forever, only for a while to “recalibrate myself.” But after this most recent bad night, enough was enough. I was just tired of it all. Tired of hurting myself and others. So I quit. Yesterday was four months without a drink, and I’m very proud of myself.

What they say is right: you have to take it one day at a time. It sounds cheesy but it’s true. Some days I feel jealous and left out, and others are easy. You just have to get through that day making the right decisions and worry about the next one when it comes.

The only substances I use now are caffeine, nicotine, and a little bit of weed. The first two much more substantially – weed has never made me feel great in large doses, and when I’m on it I can actually listen to that voice in my brain that tells me to stop. I have talked to my partner about a way to have Guinness again far down the road – I just love the taste so much, it’s so unlike everything else – but I would still label my abstinence as indefinite. Being a good person is much more important.

Back to soccer. I’m so excited for this upcoming season, we’ve got some new players and it really feels like there’s a sense of optimism in the air. But, I won’t lie, the idea of going to games sober has been stressful. It’s just always been such a comfy routine: pints before the match, pints during, and pints after. Drinking gives you something to do while the excitement builds and either helps you celebrate or commiserate afterwards. It amplifies the good and numbs the bad.

Pre-game coffees? It just doesn’t feel the same. But why? Why do we have to be ingesting alcohol to have a good time? We do it only because that’s what we’re taught, how we’re “nurtured.” Drinking gives you something to do and somewhere to gather, but it’s not the point.

In fact, it’s the sense of community that matters. Being with friends and talking and sharing excitement is what matters. During the game, urging on and backing the team is what matters. That’s why we’re here, why we sing and yell and wave flags. It feels like alcohol is the glue that holds this game-day experience together, but it’s not at all. It’s us, the fans.

So, this season, things will be a little different. I’ll be around, crazy as ever. I’ll just be present. I’ll actively be making decisions – good decisions. I’m excited, actually.

If you’re like me and won’t be drinking this season, for whatever reason, don’t worry. You’re not weird, and you’re not alone. Come say hi and we can talk. Pick up a flag, start singing, and pretty soon you’ll forget about beer and the feelings you’re “missing out on.” They’re hollow feelings anyway.