Please, just count this time, OK?

It was a Sunday, and the newsroom of the Prince Albert Daily Herald was abnormally packed.
Two "deskers" - an industry term for layout editors, a sports reporter, myself, and a general news reporter gathered around the television on a chill night. (They're all chill at that time of the year: one of the reasons I wanted to move here!)
We knew, we all knew, that the psyche of an entire province lay in the play ahead.
Grey Cup, 2009. Montreal trailing, Damon Duval - the Al's placekicker, who had struggled all day long - was about to try and seal his team's victory.
We all know what happened next. But for readers in this area to truly understand the impact of that last-second field goal, one has to try and wrap one's head around how Saskatchewan views its football team.
Folks on the Prairies bleed one of two colours: green, or white. Take your pick.
As I related in a column recently, it's a passion of unbounded proportions. Little old ladies will gab over offensive formations with a depth of understanding that most football coaches elsewhere can only struggle to obtain.
That's why this time, 360-odd days ago, the newsroom of the Herald was so busy. We had a four-page special section to put out, either celebrating the Saskatchewan Roughriders victory, or, alternately, marking the squad's defeat at the hands of Anthony Calvillo and company.
My job that night was to co-ordinate the feeds from The Canadian Press and Canwest News, as well as our own reporter in Calgary. The press was on alert, long told that we'd be running a little late with a special edition.
But to speed the process, we'd already gathered some images, forged a front cover for either scenario. The one for the Riders victory was super-special, with the nameplate running up the left side of the page: something that had never been done before. Go big, or go home, was the philosophy.
Now all that we needed to do was see whether Duval could split the uprights.
The memories of that moment diverge at the moment of the snap.
All else in the newsroom saw the snap, saw the kick push wide. Bedlam ensued.

Every seasoned football official I have spoken to has reported the same reaction: as others reacted according to fan persuasion, those of us who officiate the game at any reasonable level, were shaking our heads.
There's only one foul that deep officials will call at the snap of the ball.
In any officiating crew of five officials or more, the deep officials will count the defensive players. The referee and umpire will count offence.
Every official has his or own way of counting. Me, I block players out in groups of four.
One, two, three groups of four and all is good: it's basic Grade 3 grouping and number theory in action. More than three groups of four and we have a problem. Less than that - 11 men, not 12 - will usually provoke a "count 'em up" at lower levels of ball. A minor hint. Even 13 players will trigger such a call: it's a concept called "preventative officiating."
But at the pro levels, it's up to someone else to avoid such simple infractions as having too many players on the field.
"Too many men," I mumbled to a newsroom that was rather non-objectively celebrating what it thought was a Rider win.
My sports reporter looked at me, a jaded expression creeping over his face.
"It's a 10-yard penalty, and a re-kick. There's no way Duval will miss."
I lurched into my incredibly cold office to scrap the super-special cover and run with the "Al's win" version, even before the penalty had been announced to the world.

Although I tend not to work the deep positions as an official, I can only recall throwing a flag for too many men maybe two or three times in my career.
It's even rarer to see at the higher levels. At the college and pro levels, there is at least one on-field player who counts the team at every play. Smart special teams coaches make sure that a key player - a kicker for the offence, usually, and a linebacker or receiver for the receiving team - counts.
But not that day, not that play.
I've read some commentary from the deep officials of that game, referee-insider stuff from the Canadian Football Officials Association newsletter. Not one of the three officials responsible for catching that extra man could believe what they were seeing. One guy said he counted the defensive set three times, in disbelief.
Ironic, really, that an icon of Rider culture - the 13th man - would haunt them such. It cost them the greatest prize in Canadian football, and the collective psyche of the Rider nation is still smarting.

There are some odd forces at play, this year. It's not surprising that Montreal would return to the grand stage of Canadian ball: they are the current dynasty in the league, after all.
But the Riders had to fight, claw, and scratch to another Grey Cup berth.
Instead of Calgary, it's Edmonton as the site of the big dance this year. But no difference, for hundreds of melon-headed, green-clad, Pilsner-fuelled lunatics will have made the trek to see the 2009 combatants in a rematch.
And this year, one can be sure that there will be multiple eyes counting every special teams play.
So, if I may offer a wee bit of suggestion to the Riders before tomorrow's big game, this would be it, in Monty Pythonesque fashion:
Twelve is the number. Not 13. Eleven is sort of OK, but 14 is right out.