Don Matthews left enduring impression
Dave Ridgway kick-started The Don of a new era in Saskatchewan.
Robokicker’s last-minute field goal gave the Saskatchewan Roughriders a 44-41 victory over the host Edmonton Eskimos on Aug. 28, 1991, when Don Matthews made his head-coaching debut in green and white.
But, for Ridgway, another game in Edmonton — one with a conclusion he laments — stands out when he remembers Matthews, who died Wednesday at age 77.
“The best story I can tell you about Don happened the day after I slipped (while attempting a game-winning field goal) in the West semifinal,” Ridgway recalls in reference to the 1992 CFL playoffs. “As you can imagine, everyone was pretty down — me in particular.
“As I was leaving the stadium following our last team meeting, Don chased me out the door into the parking lot and stopped me to talk to me. What he said has stuck with me: ‘Don’t ever be that arrogant to believe that your kicks win or lose games for us. We had plenty of opportunities to put that game away without you having to be out there for a last-play field goal.’
“And with that, he turned around and walked back into the office. I know I should have made the kick and he knew it too, but he made a great attempt to try and help me deal with the emotions I was trying to handle in the aftermath of that painful loss. I appreciated his attempt.”
Matthews was much more accustomed to playoff victories, as evidenced by his five Grey Cup rings as a head coach and five more as an assistant.
Oddly enough, Matthews did not coach Saskatchewan to a playoff victory — the team was oneand-done in 1992 and 1993 — but he nonetheless left an enduring impression over 2½ seasons in Riderville, where he was dubbed The Don.
“Everyone knew that Don had the big credentials and had amassed some serious accolades and achievements during his time in the CFL,” Ridgway says, recalling the time when Matthews succeeded the first John Gregory in August of 1991. “But as with all coaching changes, there is a great deal of trepidation involved from a players’ point of view when the new guy steps in ... and he was great!”
Plaza of Honour receiver Jeff Fairholm is quick to concur.
“Don was the best veterans’ coach you could ask for,” says Fairholm, who also played for Matthews in 1996 with the Grey Cup-winning Toronto Argonauts.
“He was cocky, he was arrogant, but around the players, he treated us so well. He had a way of demanding respect but not pushing it in our faces. It seemed like whenever he was a coach on a team I was on, we had a veteran squad and he treated us like professionals. As long as we acted like professionals, he treated us like professional. I respect that, and I think he got a tremendous amount out of the players because of that.
“In practice, he didn’t beat us up. He figured we should know how to tackle and that kind of thing already when they’re a pro, so we very rarely had pads on — even in training camp — and we rarely hit. That was a godsend to me. I think he might have elongated my career for a year because of that. It was a whole lot easier going to training camp knowing that Don Matthews was your coach.’’
It wasn’t always an easy ride for the media. He could be combative with reporters and seemed to revel in sparring with them. But there was another side to him.
“He was a very caring guy,” Fairholm says. “I was going through a divorce when Don was the coach. I went to Don just before training camp and said, ‘I’m going through this stuff,’ and he said, ‘Do you know how many times I’ve been through a divorce? Don’t worry about it. But if I see you getting down, I’ll kick you in the (posterior) and off we’ll go.’ He was great that way.”
Like Fairholm, Ridgway remembers how Matthews liked to keep things loose when possible.
“He instituted a ritual the day before game day where he actually scheduled guys to perform a skit or dance or sing or whatever in an effort to bring us closer as a team,’’ the Hall of Fame placekicker says. “I am pretty sure it worked, because if you can get up in front of guys that are supposed to be like family and totally embarrass yourself in an effort to entertain your teammates, well, you can pretty much do anything.
“If I recall correctly, Glen Suitor and I performed a rap song that we had written about certain guys and-or coaches — and I’m pretty sure neither of us were mistaken for anyone that could actually perform. Oh, and I was more nervous about doing that skit than I ever was about kicking a last-second field goal.”
Matthews routinely did his utmost to allay any nervousness that the players may have been experiencing.
“You got this sense of calm automatically that he’s got everything under control and organized,” Fairholm says. “Even if it wasn’t organized, he gave the illusion that it was, and it just settled everybody down.
“It’s kind of like when a quarterback who you trust comes into the huddle and just gives you a wink that we’re going to be OK. Don gave that aura about his team.”
Looking back, Fairholm feels grateful to have played for a head coach he describes as “an icon.” In addition to being one of the premier head coaches in CFL history, he was also one of the league’s all-time personalities.
“He liked to have fun,” Fairholm says. “He was living on the edge. That’s what he did. He coached that way and he lived his life that way.’’