There are a few places you encounter in life that you know will imprint on you forever. For some, these places are marked by unimaginable beauty; for others, it’s the unforgettable memories sunk into the very ground. Often, you cannot predict the impact these places will leave on you––whether it’s a summer doldrum on a friend’s porch or a moment of awe at the top of Stawamus Chief. I could never have predicted the influence that McGill’s own Percival Molson Stadium would have on my life––playing in the stadium has changed me forever.
The first thing that you notice about the stadium is the stunningly green turf field with a ring of red track on the fringe, surrounded by rising walls of stands bordering three-quarters of the field. The Nest––McGill Athletics’ student section––lies to the south, comprising rows upon rows of red benches with a second set of risers lined with the names and jersey numbers of Montreal Alouettes legends. Rising above, flags fluttering in the wind grace the southern ramparts. The western wall is shared with the Montreal Neurological Institute Research Hospital and its unshuttered windows always shine a soft glow onto the field at night. To the north lie concrete ampitheatre-like bleachers evoking the walls of a coliseum, topped by walkways and press boxes where unseen faces watch from above.
“I feel like I’m at Hogwarts sometimes, beside a big castle,” Martlets soccer defender Stephanie Hill reminisced, referring to Royal Victoria Hospital on the mountain above. “Whenever there’s fog, it’s so beautiful that I get the impression I’m in a postcard.”
The sheer magnitude of the stadium does much to inspire its occupants.
“It has always been a pleasure to walk and play on that field,” Redbirds Lacrosse captain Isaiah Cree recalled. “I’ve never played within a stadium of its size and it is something I’ll never forget.”
Having experienced three seasons of rugby on that field, spanning from August to November, I can only describe Molson as mesmerizing. Even during gruelling sweat-soaked practices in August and below-freezing temperatures in November, the stadium stages the fleeting beauty of the seasons more than its intended purpose. The tail end of summer brings the sun shining through the trees on Mont Royal as it sets just over the mountain’s summit. In the fall, when icy rain and winds cut through the bone, we work hard to see the steam rising from our huddles and scrums to give us proof of our efforts. In the winter, right when the rugby season finishes, the bright lights reflect off the first few snowflakes of the season, making them shine whiter than usual as they start covering the turf.
The snowflakes aren’t the only other things that shine brighter at Molson. Emotions are heightened, pulses race, and every shout from fans in the stands rings through like a symphony. The rising walls of stands act as a bowl, and at home games––win or lose––the cheers that erupt from the fans echo thrice as loud. Every success achieved on the field can bring euphoria, yet every loss can cut just as deep.
I am fortunate that I still have another year to connect to Molson as I close out my law degree, but other athletes are coming to terms with their final moments on the field. Recalling the advice his graduating teammates gave him on recognizing and cherishing the best times of the season before it was over, Redbirds Soccer defender Julian Huster shared his approach.
“I thought, ‘These are the good times that I might not realize have passed until after they passed,’ so the morning practices, the preseason, the beautiful sunsets––I was conscious about that, and I was soaking it in as it happened,” Huster recounted.
When my turn comes to say goodbye to Molson Stadium, I hope I remember Julian’s words before it’s too late. But for the time being, with one more season left, the only thing I can do is work to return to that pitch one last time and help put on as great a show as McGill has ever seen.
