Ben Rispin has played in a lot of bands (like the Video Dead and the Saint Alvia Cartel). He’s toured with some more bands he wasn’t even in (like Jersey). And he was nominated for a Juno for Best Rock Album (really). With The Kids Today, he shares his years of hard-earned wisdom with a new generation of totally sweet dudes and ladies.

So it was a cold ass winter day in Toronto like so many were this year. I had caught wind a few weeks earlier that our good friends Matt Costa and co. were going to be coming to Toronto to play the Phoenix. We’d met those dudes earlier that year on a tour with Bedouin Soundclash. I had also learned that they were set to play the MTV Live program earlier that day, so I was stoked to go down early and get a jump on my evening.

When we arrived, there were a ton of fans outside and even more people with cameras who had that media look about them. Now I’m pretty out of touch and my first reaction was, “DAMN, Matt’s new record must be DESTROYING.”

Filled with the pride of my pals, we went down to the green room. We were informed that security was extra tight today and to make sure not to lose our passes. Nice one, Matt!

But as I said my hellos, I got a look at the green room TV and there it is — Sporty Spice. Those media were not there because of Matt and the boys, but because Mel fucking C was the guest of honour. Matt was merely musical guest. While I thought life made a little more sense again, I was now surprised for a different reason, the idea that anyone gave a fuck about Sporty Spice anymore.

Because the one fact I know about that band is that she’s everyone’s least favourite.

Anyway, the time comes when Matt and co. are set to play and we head up to the stage to watch. As we reach our destination, security are escorting Sporty out of the interview area, which is a kind of semi-circle with a bunch of throw pillows, and all these kids are frantically waving goodbye.

One fan does the sneak picture phone attack and gets the over the shoulder shot. Sporty, being a good “sport” (see what I did there?), fakes an awkward smile and continues to leave. When this happens, this gentlemen, who has really shiny spiked hair, diamond earrings, and looks like he works at Future Shop, starts to LOSE IT.

He jumps up in the air and screams, “I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!” And then, “I GOT IT!” Then the combination, “I CAN’T BELIEVE I GOT IT!”

Then he drops to the ground and starts to cry. For real. My friend who is next to me, and freshly inebriated, leans over to inquire if this was really happening. It was. Super fan eventually starts shouting to who I can only assume is his god, “Thank you!!!! Thank you!!! Thank you…” And at this point his buds have come over to hug it out. They eventually start to cry as well and carry him away because he can no longer walk.

Carried out of the building like the gladiator of girl power he was.

So I don’t really have a moral to this story or any advice except, if you like anything that much, especially someone who you only ever see in magazines and TV, get your head checked because you are a fucking asshole.

p.s. buy Matt Costa records.