Amar Doman – The River City Renegade

Let’s talk about things that make me go hmmm, volumes 1,163 to 1,174, and a few things that don’t make me go hmmm…

Happy St. Paddy’s Day to the Irish and those who wish they were Irish.

But, hey, don’t drink green beer today, because that’s a dumb American thing and a dead giveaway that you aren’t actually Irish. A real Sionainn or Padraig wouldn’t whet their whistle with a brewski laced with food coloring.

Sure would be swell to be down at The Toad in Osborne Village today for a gathering of the Irish and wannabe Irish. I hear the lovely Shannon will be holding court, and her lovely sister Maura might sit in as well. I have fond memories of sitting on a Toad stool during St. Paddy’s Days past.

The all-St. Pat’s team:
Padraig Harrington
Patrick Ewing
Pat Summitt
Patty Berg
Patrick Kane
Patrick Mahomes
Patrick Roy
Pat Quinn
Pat Riley
Lynn Patrick

What in the name of Arthur Guinness were the Toronto Maple Leafs wearing for their skirmish vs. Carolina Hurricanes on Saturday night? Unless my peepers were playing tricks, that sure looked like a green shamrock on the jersey front. And green pants, green gloves, green trimming and green lids. Yup, they were as green as Kermit. I’d swear it was a nod to the Irish and St. Paddy. Hmmm. Perhaps National Hockey League commish Gary Bettman can remind us of the ban on all specialty unis on specialty nights, which is actually a ban on the Pride Rainbow.

It’s about those 18,000 missing Jaromir Jagr bobblehead dolls: The kidnappers are demanding a 2010 Barbie doll in exchange for their safe return, although word on the street is that the scofflaws would settle for a Barbie original from 1959. Hey, don’t laugh. The Mattel-Stefano Canturi 2010 Barbie is valued at $302,500, while a Barbie original once sold at auction for $27,450. And that was before Greta Gerwig and Margot Robbie made a big deal out of Barbie on the big screen.

I don’t spend a whole lot of time on X, but I caught this post from deep-dive analytics guy Garret Hohl last week, re the Winnipeg Jets: “All 3 lines with Ehlers on them was over 60% xG. Ehlers highest xG on the team.” Hmmm. Something tells me I should have paid more attention during Mr. Shlanka’s algebra class at Miles Mac.

There wasn’t a spare seat to be had in the Little Hockey House On The Prairie the other night when the Disney Ducks came calling on the Jets, yet there were close to 2,000 unoccupied chairs two nights earlier for a visit from division rival Nashville Predators. That makes sense to whom?

On the subject of head counts, two Professional Women’s Hockey League games attracted 13,736 customers to Little Caesars Arena in Motown and another 9,006 to the Xcel Energy Center in St. Paul on Saturday. Hmmm. The bigger the venue, the bigger the gatherings. Seems to me Ponytail Puck might have sold itself short by booking most of its frolics in small barns.

So, the goon element has arrived in Ponytail Puck, with Toronto’s Brittany Howard told to sit down for a game after taking the lumber to Catherine Daoust of Montreal. Howard is also out of pocket $250, ditto Rebecca Leslie, for yanking their foes’ face cages. Hmmm. Somewhere Deputy Dawg of the NHL, George Parros, is saying to himself, “So that’s how it’s supposed to be done.”

The PWHL trade deadline is Monday afternoon at 4 o’clock eastern. Hmmm. Does James Duthie know about this? I mean, will James gather his cast of thousands at TSN and spend nine hours hosting an exercise in excessive tongue-wagging? Of course not. Other than Cheryl Pounder, they’d struggle to name nine players in Ponytail Puck, let alone gab about them for nine hours.

Headline on the Sportsnet website: “Flames mailbag: What to expect from Brzustewicz?” Hmmm. Another vowel would be nice.

Anson Carter is leading a push for an NHL expansion franchise in Atlanta, which is already a two-time graveyard. Hmmm. How does a former journeyman forward who could score only when in collaboration with the Sedin twins collect enough coin to get involved with high rollers? Do TNT, MSG Network and Rogers pay him that much to flap his gums?

Caught a bit of a Blue Jays game the other day while channel surfing, and I noted Toronto shortstop Bo Bichette doing a bit of the hot dog thing. Hmmm. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone so obsessed with their hair since Farrah Fawcett in the 1970s.

Robert F. Kennedy Jr. is on the hunt for a running mate in his bid for the White House, and New York Jets quarterback Aaron Rodgers is on his short list. Hmmm. I wasn’t aware of a Tin Foil Hat Party in the U.S.

Apparently former rassler Jesse Ventura has also been shortlisted by RFK Jr., which brings to mind this quote from funny guy Alex Kaseberg when grappler Jesse was governor of Minnesota: “Many people criticize ESPN for selecting a horse, Secretariat, as the 35th of the 50 best athletes of all time. I say why not select a big animal that can’t verbally communicate? The voters of Minnesota did.”

No one asked me, but I’m prepared to give Briane Harris the benefit of the doubt in the Curious Case of the Contaminated Curler. I don’t care what the squints in lab coats say. There’s no way Briane had her hand in the juice jar. Not knowingly. Pebble People don’t do that sort of thing, unless they’re Russian, in which case Vlad Putin’s mad scientists use all athletes’ butts for pin cushions. There must be a logical reason why gremlins appeared in Briane’s pee, rendering her unavailable to Kerri Einarson and the Gimli Gals at the recent Scotties Tournament of Hearts. There just has to be.

I find it interesting that when an athlete in a warrior sport like football is outed as a doper (hello, Andrew Harris) many ignore his squeals of innocence and assume him to be guilty. Yet there’s been no such tut-tutting of a curler. Why is that? Because the rabble still doesn’t think of Pebble People as true athletes, or they can’t see the benefits of curlers juicing up? Well hello. Have you seen the size of some of the guys on the grunt end of a push broom these days? The front ends of some men’s teams look like they come off the assembly line at John Deere or New Holland. But no. Briane Harris does not look like farm equipment.

They’ve done the unthinkable and recruited a head hunter to ferret out a Sugar Daddy for the community-operated Edmonton Elks, and the one-time Canadian Football League flagship franchise could have a private bankroll in place sometime during the upcoming crusade. If not before. Hmmm. That ought not be viewed as a bad thing. The last two men to join the Lords of Rouge Football, Amar Doman in B.C. and Pierre Karl Peladeau in Montreal, have made a difference in their once-ailing markets. Head counts on the Other Side Of The Rocks have risen dramatically since Doman began to pay the bills for the B.C. Leos, while Pierre Karl knows enough to let his football people make the football decisions, and his Larks are Grey Cup champions. So there.

I wonder if we’ll ever see something similar unfold in Good Ol’ Hometown, where the Winnipeg Blue Bombers have become the flagship franchise of Rouge Football under the guiding hand of CEO Wade Miller and the watchful eyes of a community-run board of directors. You don’t suppose David Asper is still holding out hope, do you?

So the Dickenson boys have become a tag-team in Calgary, where Craig has joined little brother Dave as a senior consultant with the Stampeders. Hmmm. How is that going to work? Since little brother Dave is both head coach and GM, what exactly does big brother Craig bring to the table, except maybe Dave’s lunch? I mean, it sounds to me like a go-fer job.

And, finally, it appears that Winnipeg doesn’t want me as much as I want Winnipeg. That is to say, reports of my return to Good Ol’ Hometown have been greatly exaggerated, since landlords don’t seem to like the cut of my jib. Hmmm. Was it something I wrote? Well, I don’t know what I can tell them, except to say it’s the only jib I have.

Let’s talk about Christivus gifts and the airing of Sports Santa’s grievances in a year of fart parcels and passing gas

Happy Christivus, kids, and welcome to Sports Santa’s annual gift-giving and airing of grievances, celebrated annually on the day between Festivus and Christmas. Let us begin…

GIFT: Contrary to what the supermarket tabloids tell us or what we see on our flatscreens, Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce cooing and cuddling was not the feel-good football story of the year, even if their tryst has attracted more eyeballs than the moon landing.

Instead, I direct your attention to Maya Turner, lady place-kicker extraordinaire and barrier-buster.

Maya delivered the warm-and-fuzzies on a Saturday afternoon of firsts in September, when she a) became the first female to participate in a regular-season U Sports men’s football game, and b) became the first female to score. But that wasn’t the last word on her debut. It got better. There was also the matter of the storybook ending, which Maya authored with the swing of her right leg in double OT, her field goal lifting the 0-fer University of Manitoba Bisons to their first W of the season. Maya finished the year 11-for-14 in FG attempts (longest 48 yards) and 16-for-16 in converts. (Just wondering: Do you suppose she’s a Swiftie?)

GIFT: No surprise that U of M head coach Brian Dobie would pooh-pooh gender stereotyping and give Maya her chance to compete with, and against, the boys. Brian’s one of the truly good guys in sports, and he operates an equal-opportunity program on the south side of Winnipeg. He gets it.

LUMP O’ COAL: Former footy manager/Premier League player Joey Barton overdosed on misogyny pills after England and Manchester United goalkeeper Mary Earps was anointed BBC Sports Personality of the Year. Barton reckons that snooker star Ronnie O’Sullivan or jockey Frankie Dettori would have been more suitable winners, and he described Earps as “a big sack of spuds that plays in goal for a girls’ team.” He also boasted he’d score on Earps 100 times out of 100 penalty attempts, “Any day of the week. Twice on a f—ing Sunday.” Sigh. Barton previously took aim at female commentators in men’s futbol, saying, “Women shouldn’t be commentating with any kind of authority on the men’s game.” And any bloke who disagrees with him is “an absolute fart parcel.” Double sigh.

LUMP O’ COAL: Spain’s now-defrocked slimeball futbol kingpin, Luis Rubiales, celebrated the country’s Women’s World Cup title by planting a smooch on Spanish star Jenni Hermoso’s lips and also grabbed his crotch, which might have been his way of saluting the flag. Rubiales refused to go gentle into the night, but a sexual assault charge and unrelenting international scorn convinced FIFA to give him the official kiss off. He was told to get lost for three years.

GIFT: Christine Sinclair went home to beautiful B.C. to bid adieu to our national women’s soccer side in a friendly vs. Australia, and dry eyes were scarce. It was a lovely, emotional farewell to a footy legend and Canadian treasure.

GIFT: Mark and Kimbra Walter brought great gobs of coin and renewed life to Ponytail Puck when they unlocked the vault to purchase the Premier Hockey Federation in June, then create the Professional Women’s Hockey League. Six franchises to be named later will drop the puck next month, and the three Canadian sides (Montreal, Ottawa, Republic of Tranna) are talking about performing in sold-out barns and/or in front of record-setting gatherings for their home openers.

LUMP O’ COAL: Let’s make it an entire coal bin for Puck Czar Gary Bettman, who exposed the “Hockey Is For Everyone” rallying cry as the National Hockey League’s Trademark Big Lie. First, he gave the NHL’s 700-plus players his official okie-dokie to make anti-gay statements (i.e. refusing to wear Pride specialty jerseys in warmup.) “We continue to encourage voices on social and cultural issues,” he said. (Oh hell, Gary, why not just say, “You have the right to be a bigot!” and be done with it?) Next, to spare bigoted players public scorn, he banned all specialty jerseys, but we all know it was a ban on Pride jerseys. He called them “a distraction” and he was right—the bigotry became a distraction. Then he put the kibosh on Pride tape, outlawing its use pre-game, in-game, at practice, and whenever any NHL player wanted to join in a spirited game of street hockey with the neighborhood kids. Puck Czar Gary stopped short of barring those in the LGBT(etc.) community from purchasing tickets and entering the NHL’s 32 barns, but, hey, the year isn’t over.

LUMP O’ COAL: Ivan Provorov, then of the Philly Flyers, started the NHL’s Rainbow Resistance Movement last January when he refused to play along with teammates while they frolicked, pre-game, on Pride Night. As they flitted about the freeze in special Pride unis, the Russian Orthodox rearguard sat in the team changing room, searching for Bible scripture to support his anti-LGBT(etc.) beliefs. He became Pied Piper to seven other NHLers—James Reimer, Eric Staal, Marc Staal, Ilya Samsonov, Ilya Lyubushkin, Andrei Kuzmenko, Denis Gurianov—and three teams—New York Rangers, Chicago Blackhawks, Minnesota Wild—to form the Rainbow Resistance Movement. The players cited either religion or Russia’s anti-gay laws to explain their position, whichever was most convenient.

GIFT: Travis Dermott of the Arizona Coyotes, recognizing that the Pride tape ban was a truly dumb directive, flipped Puck Czar Gary the bird (figuratively) and used the Rainbow wrap on the shaft of his stick. More recently, Connor McDavid was observed with Pride tape on the blade of his stick, and New Jersey Devils players arrived at their rink wearing specialty Pride jerseys. Civilization as we know it did not crumble.

GIFT: The man is a motormouth beyond compare and his rants on various platforms, including ESPN, induce hemorrhaging of the ears, but Stephen A. Smith delivered my favorite sound bite of the year. Noting that world-class glutton Joey Chestnut had successfully defended his Nathan’s Famous International Hot Dog pigout title by scarfing down 62 tube steaks in 10 minutes, Smith said: “It’s nasty as shit. His significant other does not want to be around him for the next few days. It’s gonna be a lot of gas passed. It’s a lot of gas. I know ’cause I don’t eat hot dogs like that and I pass gas sometimes. Stay away from me. I don’t want to meet you. You might burp and I might smell it from a mile away. I don’t need that in my life. No, no, no.”

GIFT: Also in the favorite-quotes category were New York Mets broadcaster Keith (Magic Loogie) Hernandez and hockey natterbug Greg Millen.
First Hernandez, who offered this batting tip: “You want to always be erect when you make contact. Like a telephone pole!”
Now Millen, on the Calgary Flames: “If you’re not scoring, ya gotta find ways to score.”

GIFT: Scant seconds after the Winnipeg Jets had been ushered out of the Stanley Cup tournament by Vegas Golden Knights, head coach Rick Bowness was in no mood to pat his players on their delicate egos. Instead, Bones had the (apparent) bad manners to deliver a public flogging. He noted the absence of pushback against Vegas and described the Game 5 effort as “crap,” saying he was “disgusted. Their better players were so much better than ours, it wasn’t even close.” Hmmm. Rick Bowness unplugged. Bravo, Bones.

LUMP O’ COAL: Bones wanted pushback from his players? He got it on garbage bag day. His truth bomb had lower lips drooping in the changing room, and the poor dears boo-hooed their way through season-ending natters with news snoops. The Sad Sack bunch that wouldn’t push back vs. Vegas attacked Bowness, dissing their bench puppeteer as a big meanie who stole their lunch money. And, no surprise, it was now-departed former Captain Cranky Pants Blake Wheeler leading the group pout. It was a pathetic, whine-and-cheesy pity party that confirmed the time for Wheeler to leave the building was long overdue.

GIFT: Many pundits expected Puck Pontiff Mark Chipman and GM Kevin Cheveldayoff to go all Property Brothers and undertake a massive renovation of the Jets roster. You know, strip it to the studs! Instead, the reno was limited to shedding themselves of a very bad contract, Wheeler’s, and peddling sourpuss centre Pierre-Luc Dubois to Tinseltown in barter for Gabriel Vilardi, Alex IaFallo and Rasmus Kupari. They then convinced 30somethings Mark Scheifele and Connor Hellebuyck to stay for the duration, signing both to seven-year extensions that kick in next year. Those contracts will age about as well as a carton of milk in a desert sun, but they seem to have already stirred something fresh into Scheifele’s game and the Jets overall brew (see current NHL standings).

LUMP O’ COAL: The Jets season-ticket campaign Forever Winnipeg last spring came across as a buy-or-else threat to the rabble, rather than a rah-rah pep rally. I mean, you might show film of a funeral to sell caskets and long, black cars, but you don’t do it to lure warm bodies to the Little Hockey House On The Prairie. Yet the geniuses in the True North Sports + Entertainment marketing department decided Forever Winnipeg should include footage of Jets 1.0 skipping town in April 1996, a grim reminder of the Day of the Long Faces. That was totally lame-o.

GIFT: Same as last year, Kerri Einarson, Val Sweeting, Shannon Birchard and Briane Harris brought pebble glory to the centre of the curling universe, winning the Scotties Tournament of Hearts. If you’re scoring at home, that’s four in a row for the Gimli Girls and, if all goes well, they’ll hunt down a fifth title in Calgary two months from now. Go get ’em, girls!

GIFT: I suppose there are some elite curlers who wish Jennifer Jones would take up another hobby (beach combing, collecting stamps, birding…anything!) to occupy her time at age 49, but our country’s Grand Dame of Pebble People won’t oblige. Jen & the 20somethings— Karlee Burgess, Mackenzie Zacharias, Emily Zacharias, Lauren Lenentine—won the Manitoba title (Jen’s ninth as a skip) and they didn’t stop winning until the final of the national Scotties, when they ran up against the juggernaut known as Team Einarson.

GIFT: The Grey Cup champion Montreal Larks wrote a gripping yarn in Rouge Football, starting with the purchase of the orphaned franchise by media mogul Pierre-Karl Péladeau and culminating in a happily-ever-after finish in the Grey Cup game. Ya, it’s a total bummer that the Larks torpedoed the Winnipeg Blue Bombers’ bid to grab the Grey Grail for the third time in four seasons, but I like it when a filthy rich guy buys a sports toy and stays the hell out of the way so the football minds can do their work. And GM Danny Maciocia, sideline steward Jason Maas and QB Cody Fajardo definitely got the job done for Monsieur Péladeau.

GIFT: Amar Doman is another Rouge Football bankroll who has the smarts to let the football people with his B.C. Leos do the football things. Doman focuses on getting bodies into the pews at B.C. Place, and if that means recruiting LL Cool J or OneRepublic to fill chairs, he opens the wallet then steps aside.

GIFT: When he wasn’t rescuing dogs, Brady Oliveira was running over, under and around Canadian Football League defenders. The Bombers tailback topped the three-downs game in rushing, yards from scrimmage and touchdowns.

LUMP O’ COAL: The Football Reporters of Canada were under the misguided notion that Chad Kelly was the most outstanding player in the CFL, even though the Toronto Argos quarterback led the league in absolutely nothing. I’m not convinced he was the best QB, let alone the premier overall player. The George Reed MOP trinket belonged to Oliveira.

LUMP O’ COAL: Davis Sanchez of the CFL on TSN panel compared Kelly to Doug Flutie: “(Kelly’s) that good, that talented.” Oh, put a sock in it Chez!

GIFT: The football writers got one thing right: They finally inducted a woman into the Media Wing of the Canadian Football Hall of Fame. Vicki Hall became the first female to join 104 men in the old boys’ club, and it shouldn’t have taken this long.

LUMP O’ COAL: If Globe and Mail jock columnist Cathal Kelly scribbled anything from The Hammer during Grey Cup week, I missed it. How does a national newspaper skip the national football final and the accompanying hijinks? The mind boggles.

LUMP O’ COAL: How does the Drab Slab (Winnipeg Free Press) continue to publish a sports section without a sports columnist?

LUMP O’ COAL: The Drab Slab ran an editorial on the hassle between Soccer Canada and our women’s national side, which stated: “This dispute is not just about resources. It’s also about respect. Women’s sport has chronically been devalued and dismissed, and often ignored entirely. It would be a shame for the beautiful game to continue to be marred by such ugly gender inequalities.” Sorry, but here’s what’s actually shameful: The opinionists at the Freep refuse to recognize the “ugly gender inequalities” on their own sports pages.

LUMP O’ COAL: Damien Cox of the Toronto Star also weighed in on the matter of male/female sports coverage, submitting this nugget of nonsense: “It certainly seems acutely unbalanced” Yikes! It seems unbalanced? That’s like saying Shaquille O’Neal seems to be bigger than Simone Biles.

GIFT: The Drab Slab continues to dispatch scribes hither and yon to cover the Jets, Bombers and big-ticket curling events. That’s how it’s supposed to be done.

GIFT: Paul Friesen, Ted Wyman and Scott Billeck keep fighting the good fight for the Winnipeg Sun, even though the parent company, Postmedia, has their hands tied behind their backs and their feet in shackles.

LUMP O’ COAL: No one is as prolific at airing grievances as Steve Simmons, and the Postmedia Tranna columnist didn’t disappoint in 2023. He spent much of the year yelling at the kids on his lawn, and his grousing included this gobsmacking gem: “I do love watching the Masters, but I wonder: Can we edit out the bird chirping that’s heard in the background?” (Oh, yes, by all means, Steve. And perhaps we can also take a weed whacker to those pesky azaleas at Augusta National. Good grief. You know a guy’s achieved cranky old man status when springtime delights like birds chirping disturbs his couch potatoing.)

LUMP O’ COAL: When Tiger Woods wasn’t missing the cut at the few golf tournaments he entered, he was playing frat boy pranks, like handing Justin Thomas a tampon after out-driving him at the Genesis Invitational. It was Tiger’s way of saying, “You play like a girl, fella.” You know, giggles between buds. Well, tee-hee. Tiger is funny like a bag of Old Dutch potato chips and a Slurpee is French cuisine. And, as an aside, where did he get that tampon? At the neighborhood 7-Eleven or from his teenage daughter, Sam?

And, finally, happy ho-ho-ho to all and may none of your sports heroes fall from their pedestals in 2024.

Let’s talk about decoding hockey-speak…the Lady Bison puts her best foot forward…TSN doesn’t have a clue…rattlesnakes and rodents…Ponytail Puck leftovers…and Rip Van Kukuchi

Hockey people don’t use straight talk. They speak in code. They talk in circles. They’re convinced that BS baffles brains.

Fortunately, after close to 70 years watching shinny (started in the mid-1950s), working shinny beats in the rag trade (30 years) and blogging about shinny (20 years), I’ve learned to decode hockey-speak and put it into plain language. So, what do you say we hop hither and yawn across Our Frozen Tundra and lend an ear to what the decision-makers were saying in advance of National Hockey League training camps?

Toronto Maple Leafs GM Brad Treliving, on the muscle he’s added to his roster: “I should probably not use the word snot. I’ve heard a lot about that. I firmly believe there’s a style that you need to play at the very most important times, and it’s as much a mentality as it is anything else. I know there’s been lots of talk about abrasiveness. These are also good players. We’ve all watched games in April, May and June. There’s no space, it’s a harder game, you’ve gotta fight through traffic, and so the more players you can have with that mentality, that skill set, I think it helps you.”

What he really said: “Whenever things go off the rails, I expect coach Sheldon Keefe to unleash our guard dog, Ryan Reaves, from the end of the bench and I expect Ryan to go out on the ice and beat the snot out of one of their guys. It doesn’t mean we’ll win that game or the series, but snot should fly in April, May and June.”

Jim Rutherford, president of hockey ops, Vancouver Canucks: “I think to be very to the point, the changes that we’ve made, we have a playoff team if everything goes right. Your goalie has to be good. Your specialty teams have to be good. You can’t get into a lot of injuries. Okay, now I’m not saying if one of those things go wrong, we can’t still make it. Because we have some impact players that can win games by themselves. But we want to get to a point that we have enough in our lineup, that you can have a few things go wrong on a regular basis and overcome that.”

What he really said: “If, if, if, if, if, if, if, if, if, if…and if there was no water in the Pacific Ocean it would be the Pacific Desert and we’d still be a bubble team.”

Winnipeg Jets GM Kevin Cheveldayoff, on a contract natter with goaltender Connor Hellebuyck: “It was a good meeting. You know, we sat down, we chatted and, again, he’s a pro, he’s been at this for a long, long time now and, again, a lot of the focus in the meeting, and that was exactly what I said, we’re here to try to win.”

What he really said: “I don’t have a clue what it’s gonna take to sign this guy. He’s been around long enough to know what 40-below weather feels like, but he won’t believe me when I tell him that it won’t be 40-below the day we have our Stanley Cup parade.”

Edmonton Oilers GM Ken Holland, on who his No. 1 goaltender will be, Stuart Skinner or Jack Campbell: “The reality is, we’re gonna need both guys over 82 games. I would think by the end of the year one guy plays 50, one guy plays 30 or 45 and 35, we’ll play that as we go. We’re gonna need both guys. It’s really a two-goalie league. I’m confident that we’re gonna have a competent one-two punch.”

What he really said: “How long have we been talking about goaltending in Edmonton? Since Grant Fuhr? Hey, maybe we should give Fuhrsie a call. I know he’s 60 years old, but…”

Calgary Flames GM Craig Conroy: “When we get in those tight games, I want this team to get that swagger back. I didn’t feel like we had it at times last year. We were in so many tight games, and it felt like maybe we were a little tight during the game. I remember when we were the Comeback Kids and I remember thinking I never was worried.”

What he really said: “I remember when this team had Lanny McDonald and Mike Vernon and Pepper. Those guys liked it in Calgary. They didn’t want to leave for Florida or Columbus.”

Ottawa Senators head coach D.J. Smith, on his goaltending: “If one guy is playing great and the other guy is not playing great, it’s clear that the one guy playing great is gonna go and get to go as many times as possible. But if they’re both going well? That model works because you keep everyone fresh. Injuries are less. The more these guys play, they get hurt today. But we’re going to do everything we can to win every game.”

What he really said: “Hell, for all I know, our EBUG will be in the blue paint 20 times this season.”

Montreal Canadiens head coach Martin St. Louis, on team bonding: “When the guys care for one another, they can accomplish way more. That’s in anything, any sport, guys have to care for one another and I think they do. The success on the ice…sometimes starts so far from the ice.”

What he really said: “When the guys care for one another, they can accomplish way more. That’s in anything, any sport, guys have to care for one another and I think they do. The success on the ice…sometimes starts so far from the ice.”

There are feel-good stories, then there’s what Maya Turner authored on the first day of autumn. All Maya did Saturday was make Rouge Football history, first by fitting herself into the brown-gold-and-white livery of the University of Manitoba Bisons and trotting onto IG Field on the south side of Winnipeg, then by becoming the first female to score points in a U Sports regular-season skirmish and, finally, by hoofing a 21-yard field goal in OT to deliver the decisive points in a 27-24 decision over the Regina Rams. Oh, and did I mention she was 5-for-5, with three successful PATs? That’s goose bumps stuff. So, a big tip of the bonnet to Maya and Bisons head coach Brian Dobie, a progressive thinker and one of the all-time good guys.

TSN scours the globe in search of good copy to fill its hour of air time on SportsCentre, but I guess the camera people and news snoops in Winnipeg called in sick on Saturday. What other explanation can there be for Maya’s exploits escaping their notice? Seriously. Not a word on the highlights show in the small hours this morning. No video evidence either. Maya didn’t happen. But wait. They managed to find time to squeeze in a mention of Haley Van Voorhis, the first female non-kicker to participate in an NCAA football game for Division III Shenandoah University. The mind boggles.

If you’re wondering, yes, Sportsnet Central had a brief item on Maya’s special day in U Sports.

Speaking of Sportsnet, Ray Ferraro will be in the Vancouver regional Blab Box for a limited number of games (about 20) this NHL season, and his bride, Cammi Granato, is an assistant GM with the Canucks. Can you say conflict of interest, kids? Naw. Not Ray. He’s been shooting straight on hockey broadcasts for years now (best in the biz), and I don’t expect pillow talk will cause him to holster his frankness.

What’s that sound I hear whenever Frank Corrado surfaces on TSN to share his pearls of blah, blah, blah on all things shinny? The clicking of the mute button.

I can’t say I was surprised to learn that the Boston Bruins had anointed Brad Marchand team captain. I mean, he’s changed his rodent ways. Why, I’d wager that he hasn’t licked another player’s face in at least two years.

Favorite headline from the past week, on the Sportsnet website: “Why this year will be different for Matthews and Maple Leafs.” I swallowed the bait and called up the video to discover Auston Matthews explaining the “why.” Apparently he and his accomplices are going to “take steps. Try to take steps in the right direction. Take those steps and be hungry for more.” All right! Let’s map out the parade route!

The Vancouver Giants are stockpiling celeb bankrolls, with one half of the cornball Property Brothers, Drew Scott, signing up to help pay the bills for the Western Hockey League franchise. He joins crooner Michael Bublé on the ownership roster, so they have a singer and an actor from a reality TV show that isn’t as real as it’s made out to be. Apparently Drew’s twin brother, Jonathan, would also buy in, except he’s too busy faking all the heavy lifting on their fix-it show.

Things that make me go hmmm, Vol. 2,160: Rattlesnake wrangler Marissa Maki in Mesa, Ariz., was called to rid a garage of three rattlers recently. When she arrived, Marissa discovered 20 of the reptiles, five adults and 15 babies, all huddled near a hot water heater. “This is our record for the most caught in one call!” said Rattlesnake Solutions owner Bryan Hughes. Hmmm. Catching 20 rattlesnakes in one foul swoop…kind of what happened when Rick Westhead of TSN made a house call on Hockey Canada headquarters last year.

Amar Doman has rekindled interest in the first-place B.C. Leos since purchasing the franchise midway through the 2021 Canadian Football League crusade, but he’s receiving very limited help from broadcast rights holder TSN in selling the product as a whole to the Left Coast. This weekend, for example, there were four skirmishes on the docket, and we saw one out here on the Other Side Of The Rocks. Two weeks ago there was a Saturday tripleheader. We saw one game. This is how TSN generates interest in the CFL at the most significant state of the season? They’ve reduced Rouge Football to a rumour in B.C. As much as I’d rather hear less than more of TSN’s Resident Keith Urban Groupie, Glen Suiter, it’s pathetic.

Once upon a time, the Leos were a hot ticket in Rouge Football. Honest. True story. The average head count at B.C. Place Stadium in 1986 was 46,637 and 40,888 in 1991. Now they attract half that (23,348), unless LL Cool J or OneRepublic are in the house (34,082 and 33,103 at the last two home-openers). But it’s a quantum leap from the 12,507 average in 2021. Doman is doing his part.

Things that make me go hmmm, Vol. 2,161: Colorado Buffalos quarterback Shedeur Sanders, son of head coach Deion Sunglasses, drives a Rolls Royce. Hmmm. Canadian university QBs are doing well if they can afford to use the drive-thru at McDonald’s.

Leftovers from the Professional Women’s Hockey League draft: The three opinionists/analysts on the CBC/SN1 natter panel were excellent. Shannon Szabados and Hailey Salvian have high energy and good insight. Cheryl Pounder at times lets her mouth race ahead of her thoughts, but she’s insightful, informative and, like the others, not afraid to have fun, even if it means using herself as a foil. They seem to genuinely enjoy each other and the gig. And, of course, host Andi Petrillo is an ideal fit…Appearance is part of the gig for a TV natterbug, whether they like it or not, and that applies to the women and men. So how did the panel make out on the fashion file? Petrillo, great hair. Szabados, great hair. Salvian, great hair. Pounder—oh my. Apparently Cheryl still hasn’t found her hair brush…Just wondering: Did Petrillo choose to wear the six-inch hooker heels, or was that call made by a cruel CBC wardrobe meanie who’s never worn anything but flats? Either way, Andi’s dogs must have been barking after squeezing her feet into those tootsie-killer pumps for the duration of the draft…Tessa Bonhomme was an excellent choice as on-stage host. Unfortunately, she had to step away for about half an hour and some wise acre thought it would be a swell idea to have Cassie Campbell-Pascall step in as a sub. It wasn’t. Someone—anyone!—needed to tell Cassie in advance that the draft wasn’t about her career, her shoes and her mom’s pot roast…Nice touch: Natalie Spooner, plucked by Toronto in the fourth round, had her 10-month-old son Rory in tow. That’s something we aren’t apt to see at next year’s NHL Entry Draft…If you’re scoring at home (and that’s unlikely), 33 of the 90 players chosen on Monday performed in the Premier Hockey Federation before Mark and Kimbra Walter swooped in to purchase (and kill) the league, lock, stock and ponytail this past summer. That’s about 15 more than I expected.

Here’s how the daily rags across Our Frozen Tundra played the PWHL auction the morning after:
Winnipeg Free Press: Sports front.
Winnipeg Sun: Page 2.
Toronto Star: Sports front.
Toronto Sun: Page 4.
Montreal Gazette: Last page.
Ottawa Sun: Page 3.
Ottawa Citizen: Last page.
Regina Leader Post: Last page.
Calgary Sun: Page 2.
Edmonton Sun: Sports front.
Vancouver Province: Page 8.
Vancouver Sun: Last page.
Saskatoon StarPhoenix: Last page.
Question is: Will mainstream media interest dwindle to non-existent once the puck is dropped in January?

Things that make me go hmmm, Vol. 2,262: Toronto Blue Jays pitcher Yusei Kikuchi had a bad day at the office last week, getting the hook in the sixth inning vs. New York Yankees due to neck cramping. And the neck owie was, apparently, due to Yusei not getting enough shuteye. He managed just 11 hours sack time the night before, instead of his normal 13-14. Hmmm. The only people I know who sleep that long are in a morgue or a boneyard.

And, finally, Rip Van Kikuchi would fit in with the rabble in Brezna, a village in northern Montenegro. They stage a Laziest Citizen competition every year, the object being to lie down longer than your opponents, and sitting or standing results in prompt expulsion—except to use the toilet for 15 minutes every eight hours. Which confirms no senior citizens are involved. I mean, I’ll be 73 in two months and I’m off to the biffy 15 times every eight minutes at night, never mind once every eight hours.

Let’s talk about the Chipper & Chevy Wrecking & Salvage Co. and Nashville North…LL Cool J and the Leos…a doggy diploma…smile, you’re a Leafs fan…what about our soccer women and Marie-Philip?…Stephen A. wants to be a big wheel…and other things on my mind…

If I’m reading and hearing correctly, we’re about to see the biggest teardown in Good Ol’ Hometown since the wrecking ball whacked into the old Eaton’s building to make room for The Little Hockey House On The Prairie.

Oh, yes, we’re told Puck Pontiff Mark Chipman and GM Kevin Cheveldayoff have put on their hard hats, pulled on their work boots and strapped on their tool belts, and they haven’t done any of that just to change a light bulb. Why, by the time the Chipper & Chevy Wrecking & Salvage Co. has finished its dirty work at Portage and Donald, the Winnipeg Jets roster will look like something the Property Brothers slapped together during a drinking binge.

Destined for parts unknown, we’re told, are Blake Wheeler, Pierre-Luc Dubois, Rink Rat Scheifele and Connor Hellebuyck, cornerstones all.

It’s like Pete Best kicking John, Paul, George and Ringo out of the band.

Except for this: It’s unlikely to happen, and I’ll tell you why.

The pundits on our flatscreens, the boys on the beat, the bloggers and the keyboard warriors on social media predicting a massive reno are discounting one very significant reality: Ownership/management holds hard to the illogical (idiotic?) notion that the Jets current core has not yet arrived at its best-before date. That is, Chipman and Cheveldayoff fail, or refuse, to see and hear what the rest of us see and hear.

We see a roster with greying trail horses, they see Secretariat’s offspring. We hear players braying like jackasses about head coach Rick Bowness, they hear the Rolling Stones’ greatest hits.

Thus, they continue to harbor faith in a bunch that never fails to fail them.

“If you look at all the different components as to why you think you should be able to compete for a Stanley Cup, I think we’ve got it,” Chevy said as recently as March, at the National Hockey League shop-and-swap deadline.

Has a first-round ouster from the Stanley Cup tournament softened that belief? Doubtful.

Oh, sure, they’ll do something eventually, because they really have no choice due to expiring contracts and those ugly, season-end natters with news snoops, whereby the players conspired to verbally ragdoll Bowness. But the operative word is “eventually.”

Expect the Puck Pontiff/Chevy to mostly twiddle their thumbs in the leadup to, and during, the NHL Entry Draft (June 28-29), then send the same cast of characters to skate around the mulberry bush next autumn. That’s because it isn’t in their DNA to be ballsy until someone has pushed them onto a ledge, and they aren’t quite there yet. Keep in mind they have until next year’s trade deadline to move out any or all of Dubois, Hellebuyck, Scheifele and Wheeler, so why do today what they can do tomorrow, right?

To dawdle would, of course, be folly, but I’m not sure they know how to operate at a cadence other than slow and plodding.

And that was “the plan” from the get-go.

You’re reminded that when the Jets joined the fray, Chipman wanted his franchise to become Nashville North, even if The Burt in Good Ol’ Hometown could never be a reasonable facsimile of the high temple of twang—the Grand Ole Opry House—in Music City.

As it related solely to the business of hockey, Nashville was his role model.

“That may sound strange to people in Winnipeg, that Nashville’s a team we’ve looked so carefully at,” Chipman informed news snoops in April 2012. “They’ve done it methodically, they’ve done it by developing their players and they’ve done it with a consistency in management and philosophy.”

That was said at a time when the Jets still had that new-car smell and Chipman was a man of the people, for the people, and readily shared his musings with a constituency that was in a teenage-like swoon and filled the NHL’s smallest barn in its smallest market to the brim each night.

Alas, more latterly the Puck Pontiff has had less to say than a hand puppet, and empty chairs in The Little Hockey House On The Prairie might have something to do with that.

Many reasons have been advanced to explain 1,749 customers (per night) abandoning the Jets post-pandemic—too costly, crummy game-day experience, the concessions suck, fallout from COVID-19, ownership/management don’t give a damn, etc.—but dissatisfaction with the on-ice product surely is part of the equation.

So let’s examine that Nashville North thing.

In choosing to copy-cat the Predators, Chipman wasn’t exactly going for the gusto. (He was no Bill Foley of the Vegas Golden Knights predicting, and delivering, a Stanley Cup parade by Year Six.) The Puck Pontiff fancied the Preds’ measured, steady-as-she-goes path, and we need only examine the numbers through 12 crusades and one pandemic to confirm the mediocrity of his hockey club.

Jets first 12 seasons…
0 first-place finishes
7 missed playoffs
3 playoff series wins

Predators first 12 seasons…
0 first-place finishes
6 missed playoffs
1 playoff series win

If meh-ness is what the Puck Pontiff was looking for as a Nashville wannabe, he’s succeeded.

The Jets draft-and-develop strategy always made sense (still does) because, although not the be-all and end-all of building a Stanley Cup contender/winner, it’s a tried-and-true method. And, back in the spring of 2018, it appeared to be working, with the Jets advancing to the Final Four.

But then draft-and-develop morphed into draft-develop-and-defection, and if the Jets lead the NHL in anything, it’s this repeated headline: “(Fill in player name) wants out of Dodge!”

Seriously, they’ve had more guys looking for a new home than you’ll find in a refugee camp, and skipping town wasn’t part of the original Nashville North plan.

So what’s “the plan” 12 years in?

Well, that’s the $64,000 question, isn’t it?

Since the Puck Pontiff has entered a witness protection program and Cheveldayoff has perfected the art of saying nothing while saying everything, we can only guess which direction the Jets are heading, but I’m betting they stay the course.

The Puck Pontiff wanted Nashville North and, by gum, he’s got it. And it’s meant more hurt than the songs on a Merle Haggard album for his team’s increasingly hostile fan base.

I believe that Dubois is the only one of the aforementioned cornerstones likely to be accommodated pronto. Which brings to mind something I scribbled in January 2021, after the transaction that brought Dubois to Good Ol’ Hometown in barter for Patrik Laine and Jack Roslovic: “Hey, anyone can be traded, including Patrik Laine. And the Jets will learn to live without Puck Finn. But that doesn’t mean anyone should be traded. Chevy and the Puck Pontiff bungled this one. Badly. And if they can’t convince Dubois to sign up for the long haul, they’ll really wear it.” Two years and five months later, it’s an even bigger bungle if the player they receive for Dubois has no plans to stay long enough to unpack his bags.

This is interesting: There’s a woman in Japan—Keiko Kawano—who teaches people how to smile. True story. Keiko is a smile coach at Egaoiku (translation: Smile Education), and apparently she can work wonders for people who have forgotten how to smile. You know, like Toronto Maple Leafs fans.

There are now more than 40 million folks who call Our Frozen Tundra home. And still the Maple Leafs can’t find a goaltender.

The TV numbers are in, and they aren’t flattering for shinny…
NHL final between the Golden Knights and Florida Panthers on TNT/TBS: Average of 2.6 million viewers for five games.
NBA final between the Denver Nuggets and Miami Heat on ABC: Average of 11.6 million viewers for five games.
Just wondering: Why do Americans love one of the games we invented, but treat the other like it has the cooties?

I wouldn’t walk across the street to watch LL Cool J perform, but 30,000-plus people were in B.C. Place to watch the rapper perspire (the man is a human waterfall) on Saturday, and if that’s what it takes for Amar Doman to make his Canadian Football League franchise relevant in an indifferent market, then I say go for it. The rabble, also the TSN panel, seemed to enjoy the LL experience, even if the entertainment value dipped significantly once the large man who perspires in rhymes gave way to the large men who play football. I mean, really, the Edmonton Elks scored zero points? In Rouge Football? Like, who does that? Well, the B.C. Leos, 22-0 winners, hadn’t pitched a shutout since 1977, and the Elks hadn’t been victim of a donut since 1976. I believe that’s also when LL Cool J wrote his first rhyme.

We’re two weeks into the Rouge Football season and you might have noticed some of the quarterbacking. Gawdawful. But then there’s Zach Collaros of the 2W, 0L Winnipeg Blue Bombers. Still brilliant.

Also brilliant: Bombers kick returner extraordinaire Janarion Grant.

Things that make me go hmmm, Vol. 2,157: A service dog named Justin recently received a diploma from Seton Hall University in New Jersey. Hmmm. That puts the pooch one up on 99.9 per cent of American college football players.

Predictably, there was a great rush to find the proper place for Nick Taylor on the pecking order of grand sporting achievements on Our Frozen Tundra, after the Winnipeg-born golfer had ker-plunked a 72-foot putt on a fourth extra hole to win the Canadian Open last Sunday. Naturally, the Paul Henderson goal has been mentioned, ditto Sid Crosby’s golden goal. Then there’s Joe Carter touching ’em all and Donovan Bailey skedaddling to Olympic gold and Mike Weir taming Augusta National. But the sole female name I heard was Brooke Henderson. What about Marie-Philip Poulin’s golden goal(s)? Take your pick. She’s had four of them, notably an OT tally in the 2014 Olympics championship skirmish. How about Bianca Andreescu whupping Serena Williams to win the U.S. Open tennis title? And, correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t our soccer women win gold just 22 months ago at the Summer Olympic Games? That wasn’t as riveting, as pulse-pumping and as nation-unifying as a guy winning a golf tournament? Come on, man.

I can tell you where I was when Henderson scored in 1972 (at home in Transcona). I can tell you where I was when Marie-Philip scored in OT in 2014 (in a below-street-level nightclub, taking a break from mopping floors and scrubbing toilets). I can tell you where I was when our women’s soccer side beat Sweden on penalty kicks in 2021 (at home in downtown Victoria). But I cannot tell you where I was when Sid the Kid scored, when Carter touched ’em all, when Bailey crossed the finish line, or when Weir sank his tap-in putt at Augusta. So my personal pecking order is: 1) Henderson (always and forever), 2) women’s soccer side, 3) Marie-Philip.

If you’re looking for a fab read on freshly minted Canadian Open champion Nick Taylor, check out Mad Mike McIntyre’s recent piece in the Drab Slab. As my first sports editor, Jack Matheson, would say, it’s damn good stuff.

Stephen A. Smith says he fancies the notion of subbing for Pat Sajak, who plans to walk away from his gig as host of Wheel Of Fortune after one more season. Stephen A. also says he wouldn’t quit his day job as ESPN’s resident ranting-and-raving loudmouth on all things sports were he to step in for Sajak. He’d be willing and prepared to do it all. Is there an E, a G and an O on the board, Vanna?

The Los Angeles Country Club in Beverly Hills, site of the U.S. Open golf championship, has a lengthy list of taboos for members, like no wearing ball caps backwards, no short pants, no cash (except payment to caddies), no headphones and ear buds and, oddest of them all, no actors allowed. I can’t say that I blame them for not wanting people who pretend to be someone they’re not. You know, like Donald Trump, still pretending to be President of the U.S.

Bell Canada sent 1,300 people to the unemployment line last Wednesday, and that included jock talk radio in Edmonton. No notice. No hint. Just hit the bricks, people. Meantime, The Athletic put 20 people out of work, and Postmedia also did some slicing and dicing to sports staff in the past week. Does Bell Canada want to “Let’s Talk” about any of this, or are the suits too busy spilling blood to concern themselves with the mental well-being of employees?

A man in a cheap checkered suit from the Republic of Tranna climbed atop a desk in the Winnipeg Tribune newsroom on Aug. 27, 1980, and told us we were all out of work. Like the Bell Canada cuts, there was no heads-up. Scant hours earlier, I had been helping put together the sports pages, editing copy and writing headlines, but that morning I was wondering about finding a new gig, contemplating the possibility of relocation to another city, how long my severance package would last and, worst-case scenario, applying for pogey. I also silently cursed myself for turning down an offer to join the Winnipeg Free Press stable of sports scribes a few years earlier. I had been at the Trib since age 18, and its closure was a life-altering development, easily the most stressful time of my life. I felt lonely, lost and useless. I’m not sure I’ve ever fully gotten over losing that job. I hope all victims of the Bell, The Athletic and Postmedia cuts find their way.

Here’s how old I am: Whenever I see the name Epstein trending on Twitter, I always think it’s about the now-deceased, one-time Beatles manager Brian, only to discover it’s about the now-deceased sex trafficker and criminal creep Jeffrey Epstein.

Can we all please get past the Conor McGregor thing, whatever it is? His appearances at sporting events simply to make an ass of himself grew old quite some time ago, yet media outlets continue to insist that there’s a there there. There isn’t.

Hey, one of the all-time good guys, Ted Foreman, has been saluted and feted by the Rotary Club of Winnipeg-Fort Garry for his many years of volunteer work. I got to know Teddy through hockey, notably while working the Jets beat, but he was also heavily into the Fort Garry Blues. A good man and fun guy.

Okay, stop it right there! Winning the most men’s Grand Slam singles titles is not merit enough to certify Novak Djokovic as the finest male tennis player of all time. If that were true, Margaret Court’s 24 Slam singles titles would make her the greatest female player of all time, and who thinks that? Perhaps ol’ Maggie believes she is, but I can’t think of anyone else who’d go there. If Grand Slams are the measuring stick, Rafael Nadal has an 11-7 record vs. Djokovic and he’s 5-4 in Slam finals. Rafa also has a winning record vs. Roger Federer in Slams—10-4/6-3. So there.

And, finally, I believe America’s Got Talent sank to new depths last week when three of the four judges advanced a young Italian man to the next round. His talent? Hand farting. Only Simon Cowell gave it a thumbs down, meaning Heidi, Sofia and Howie were as dumb as the act. Lest there be any doubt about Howie’s eye for talent, he also voted “yes” for a guy whose talent is fist bumping. Good grief.

Happy Christivus: A day for gifts and the airing of grievances in the sports world!

You might think of today as Christmas Eve, kids, but it’s also Christivus, a day-before-Christmas and a day-after-Festivus celebration of all that is good in the playground and, just as important, a time for the airing of grievances. Some athletes/sports figures discover lovely gifts under the Christivus treepole, while others find a big, ol’ lump o’ coal with their name on it…

GIFT: There’s just no beating the Gimli Girls at the Scotties Tournament of Hearts. Kerri Einarson, Val Sweeting, Shannon Birchard and Briane Harris are three-peat belles of the ball, and you wouldn’t want to bet against them when they Go For Four two months hence at the national women’s curling championship in Kamloops. Only the Colleen Jones quartet from Nova Scotia has managed to put up a four-spot at the Scotties (2001-2004), so Kerri and her gal pals could be breathing rarified air in beautiful B.C. And, by the way, last time I checked, the Gimli Girls were ranked No. 1 among all the world’s female Pebble People, and I’d say that sounds about right.

GIFT: Juggernaut. That’s the word to describe Manitoba’s female curlers. You’ve got Einarson and her gal pals from Gimli, plus the Jennifer Jones, Kaitlyn Lawes, Abby Ackland and Cheleas Carey rinks ranked in the world top 22. All together now: Buffalo Girls rock!

GIFT: Let’s have a show of hands. Who among us believed that Mike O’Shea would one day become the winningest head coach in the lengthy and lore-filled history of the Winnipeg Football Club? Not me. Not you, either. I mean, Coach Grunge was greener than St. Paddy’s Day when they handed him the headset in 2014, and I doubt even Blue Bombers CEO Wade Miller and GM Kyle Walters figured they had an all-timer on their hands. It was as unlikely as prayer service in the Rum Hut. But now that O’Shea is locked in as sideline steward of the Bombers for another three Canadian Football League seasons, it’s a question of when, not if, he reaches the most hallowed of gridiron ground in Good Ol’ Hometown. Bud Grant, a legend in a trench coat, collected 102 regular-season Ws in his 10 crusades of mostly pushing the right buttons. O’Shea, a legend in the making in short pants, faded t-shirt/hoodie and ratty, ol’ ball cap, has 82 notches on his belt. Do the math. Sometime in the autumn of 2024, Coach Grunge should pull astride the Silver Fox, if not pass him. Who had that on their radar? Nobody.

GIFT: Zach Collaros became a two-timer, collecting the Most Outstanding Player Award in Rouge Football for the second successive season and, no, we aren’t going to talk about his dodgy performance in the Bombers 24-23 loss to the Toronto Argos in the grass-grabber for the Grey Grail in late November.

LUMP O’COAL: We will, however, discuss Marc Liegghio’s right leg. Two missed converts in the West Division final, one missed convert and a botched field goal attempt in the Grey Cup game doesn’t cut it. He has the worst limb since Long John Silver and everyone from Buzz and Boomer to Dancing Gabe knew all about it, but it somehow escaped the notice of Bombers brass and it cost them dearly. We can talk all we like about other foulups (there were plenty) in the bid for a Grey Grail three-peat, but a kicker has one job to do and Liegghio failed miserably.

LUMP O’ COAL: Yo! David Asper! I think maybe you’ve been spending too much time at the Journey to Churchill exhibit at Assiniboine Park Zoo. Either that or you’ve been having nightmares about polar bears lumbering through the pot-holed streets of Good Ol’ Hometown. I mean, the Winnipeg Sea Bears? And a polar bear logo? Seriously? That’s the best you could come up with for your newbie, summertime Canadian Elite Basketball League outfit? C’mon, man. Winnipeg is a seaside locale like a box of Crackerjack is fine dining, and there hasn’t been anything resembling a polar bear near Portage and Main since Chris Walby retired.

AN ENTIRE COAL MINE: Oh, woe is Hockey Canada, guardian of our national pastime and keeper of secrets, slush funds and trafficker of lies. We discovered that HC had stacks and stacks of coin to quietly pay off victims of sexual assault, and some board members summoned to Parliament Hill to explain themselves looked like so many Pinocchios after a big, fat fib. This was the biggest and, by far, the most disturbing sports story on Our Mostly Frozen Tundra in 2022. It rocked HC to the core.

AN ENTIRE COAL MINE: As Hockey Canada roiled in the guck and muck of egregious wrong-doing and a sex-assault scandal, since-defrocked CEO Scott Smith had the dreadful manners to surface in Denmark and strut on-ice to dispense gold medals to our Canadian women at the world championship. It was like the graduating class at a police academy receiving their badges from Tony Soprano. Smith’s appearance was callous, tacky and a rented-bowling-shoes level of odious.

GIFT: Rick Westhead of TSN was at the forefront of reporting on L’Affaire Hockey Canada and all other manner of misdeeds in the playground.

GIFT: Our national women’s team provided a ray of light in the Hockey Canada darkness, striking gold at the Winter Olympic Games and the world tournament. Brianne Jenner was our leading goal-scorer and MVP in Beijing, and Sarah Nurse set an Olympic record for most points, 18. Meantime, Jenner scored both goals in a 2-1 victory over the U.S. in the gold-medal match in Denmark, while Sarah Fillier was our leading scorer and a world tournament all-star.

LUMP O’ COAL: Rosie DiManno of the Toronto Star decided that Beijing 2022 was an appropriate time to piddle on Ponytail Puck at the Olympics. “I’ll get crucified for saying so, but women’s hockey doesn’t belong in the Games,” Rosie informed her readers. “It’s a cheap medal, in no way comparable to the paramountcy that some nations historically enjoy in a specific sport—like the Norwegians and cross-country skiing or Jamaicans and sprinting. There is at least some semblance of competition—gobs of it actually—with scads of elite athletes to make a challenge.” She added: “It will doubtless come down, as ever before, to a U.S.-Canada final on Feb. 17, with the Canadians looking for revenge after their loss to the Americans in Pyeongchang. Honestly, I’m getting sick of this mythologized rivalry and everybody else an also-ran. It ain’t sportin’.” Whatever you say, Rosie. But, honestly, I’m getting sick of mainstream media pooh-poohing or ignoring females in the playground.

GIFT: Two of my favorite Dons—Baizley and Duguid—received overdue hosannas this year. Baiz, a lawyer and player agent to many of hockey’s glitterati, was inducted into the Manitoba Sports Hall of Fame, while Dugie, a world curling champion and pioneer among Pebble People, became an official member of the Order of Canada. I just wish Baiz was still around to enjoy the honor, even if he was never comfortable with people fawning over him.

GIFT: There’s been a Rouge Football revival on the Wet Coast of the land thanks to B.C. Leos bankroll Amar Doman and his foot soldiers. The Leos attracted an average audience of 20,387 to B.C. Place Stadium during the past CFL season, which is a hefty bump of 7,879 customers from a year ago, and they had a league-high gathering of 34,082 for their home opener. (Does it matter now that half the audience was there for a OneRepublic concert?)

LUMP O’ COAL: They have a Grey Cup champion football team, yet the rabble in the Republic of Tranna avoid the Argos the way a letter carrier dodges a mutt baring fangs. The average head count at BMO Field was 11,875 with a low of 9,806, and it’s apparent that only a halftime show featuring Auston Matthews and Mitch Marner streaking au naturel will bring The ROT rabble out to Argos games.

LUMP O’ COAL: Good grief. Another year and still zero female news snoops in the media wing of the Canadian Football Hall of Fame. By my count, the CFHF media wing has a roll call of 103 members, 100 per cent of them male, 99.9 per cent of them white, 0 per cent of them female or gay. News snoops are quick to call out sports organizations for a lack of diversity, but apparently the same rules don’t apply to their own houses. The Football Reporters of Canada need to recognize that any female news snoop who survived close encounters with Cal Murphy in the 1980s and ’90s belongs in the Hall of Fame.

LUMP O’ COAL: The staggering proliferation of betting banter on sports TV news/highlight programming is a distressing bit of business.

GIFT: There’s been considerable gum-flapping about a play-for-pay women’s futbol league on Our Mostly Frozen Tundra three years hence, and the people doing the yakkety-yakking seem to have a clue. Diana Matheson and her business partner, Thomas Gilbert, have yet to put all their ducks in a row, but they’ve got two franchises in place (Vancouver and Calgary), they’ve brought Christine Sinclair on board (it’s never a bad idea to link arms with the all-time international goal-scoring leader), and they’re playing with CIBC and Air Canada money. By the time they kick off in 2025, the League To Be Named Later will feature eight teams across the land (four west, four east), and players can expect salaries ranging from $35,000-$75,000. My question: Is there anyone in Good Ol’ Hometown anxious to pony up with a $1 million up-front fee and $8-$10 million in operating costs for women’s soccer?

LUMP O’ COAL: TSN natterbug Kara Wagland described the creation of a women’s pro futbol circuit in Canada as a “monumental development.” Ya, it’s so “monumental” that TSN slotted it as the final item on its hour-long, overnight SportsCentre news/highlights package. Cripes, man, Joey Chestnut eating perogies got more prominent play that night, and I think we can all agree that the sight of Chestnut stuffing food into his gob is right up there on the cringe-o-metre with Glen Suitor swooning over Keith Urban on TSN’s broadcast of the 2019 Grey Cup game. Beasts with cloven hooves have better table manners than Chestnut. Yet TSN determined that his stomach-turning pigout was more newsworthy than the “monumental” women’s fitba story. Sigh.

GIFT: Sue Bird retired after 19 seasons and four WNBA championships with Seattle Storm, also five hoops gold medals at the Olympic Games…Brooke Henderson won two LPGA tournaments, including a major…Hoopster Brittney Griner found her way home to the U.S. after spending too much time in a Russian gulag…Felix Auger-Aliassime won four events on the ATP Tour and anchored Canada’s successful run at the Davis Cup…Iga Swiatek won 37 tennis matches in a row from February to July and two Grand Slam titles, the French Open and U.S. Open. Overall, she was 67-9 with eight titles…Roger Federer retired and the tennis maestro went out the same way he came in—with class…Aaron Judge swatted 62 dingers, more than any non-steroid-era player in Major League Baseball history…Nathan Rourke dazzled Rouge Football audiences until a foot owie laid him low nine games into the B.C. Lions crusade…Phil Kessel became the NHL’s iron man with a Pilsbury Dough Boy body. Go figure…Ironically, the first World Series since 1950 with zero U.S.-born Black players on either roster was won by a U.S.-born Black man, manager Dusty Baker of the Houston Astros.

GIFT: The Premier Hockey Federation remains the sole women’s shinny league in North America that actually is a league and—get this—it pays its players in salary, benefits and marketing share. In other words, it walks the walk. Now in its eighth season, there’s a $750,000 per-team player payroll that doubles to $1.5 million a year from now. Notably, that’s a 10-fold increase since 2021.

LUMP O’ COAL: The Professional Women’s Hockey Players Association. Created in May 2019, there was no league then—just a hissy fit—and there’s no league today—just the same old, tiresome hissy fit. Rather than play in the Premier Hockey Federation or unite to form a Ponytail Puck super league that the rabble might want to watch, PWHPA members prefer to hold their breath, stamp their feet and assemble for a scattering of glorified scrimmages that are mostly ignored by fans and mainstream media each winter. In the meantime, they talk, talk, talk and hope someone is listening. Oddly enough, the talking stopped at the recent all-star gala in Ottawa—PWHPA officials refused to make players available for natters with news snoops after the event. Way to sell your game, ladies.

LUMP O’ COAL: Back on Nov. 3, the puppetmasters at Postmedia informed Winnipeg Sun readers that they would be spiking the weekly TV listings and bulking up the sports section, “so you can get more from our award-winning sports reporters.” To which I responded: “Let’s hope going forward they fill the additional space with local copy, or off-beat copy, not a bunch of dreary rot from the Republic of Tranna.” Well, as advertised, Postmedia has bulked up the sports section in the Winnipeg Sun on Sundays, averaging 12 pages. But, as feared, it’s being filled with rot originating from hither and yon, with only 1-to-3 pages devoted to local sports and the majority of bylines from Republic of Tranna scribes. Don’t believe me? Well, in the four Sunday sections since Nov. 27, this is the byline tally:
Toronto writers: 25
Winnipeg writers: 10
So, yes, it reads like the Torontopeg Sun. (Or should it be the Winnironto Sun?)

LUMP O’ COAL: Why does Postmedia insist on forcing Steve Simmons’ weekly alphabet fart on the Winnipeg market? His musings and cheap shots are almost totally Republic of Tranna-centric, and he mentions the goings-on in Good Ol’ Hometown about as often as a squandron of pink elephants perform a fly-by before a Bombers game. In his most-recent offering, for example, Simmons had 17 items on athletes/teams from the The ROT and the grand total of one (1) on the Jets/Bombers/anything Winnipeg. Do the suits at Postmedia truly believe that’s what the rabble in River City want to read?

LUMP O’ COAL: Management geniuses at the Drab Slab refuse to hire a sports columnist. The guy they bill as their sports columnist, Mad Mike McIntyre, has never written a piece on the fabulous female curlers in Manitoba, which is like scribbling for National Geographic and not writing a word about Mother Nature. I mean, the jock news pecking order in Good Ol’ Hometown is Jets, Bombers and curling. So how do you snub female Pebble People when all they’ve done is win four of the past five Scotties (it’s five-for-five if you want to include homegrown Chelsea Carey in 2019)? He also mostly ignores the Bombers, who’ve been in the past three Grey Cup games, winning twice. It’s lame, negligent and unacceptable, and I’ll never understand how a big-city daily allows its sports columnist to snub two of the three major beats.

GIFT: Between Ted Wyman at the Winnipeg Sun and Jeff Hamilton at the Drab Slab, Good Ol’ Hometown receives the best print coverage of Rouge Football on Our Mostly Frozen Tundra. Teddy and Jeff lap the field every year.

LUMP O’ COAL: Carey Price put up a pro-gun post four days prior to the 33rd anniversary of the Ecole Polytechnique massacre, in which 14 women were slaughtered. It’s okay for the Montreal Canadiens goaltender to be pro firearms, but the timing of his post was ghastly. Almost as bad was teammate Joel Edmundson, who said this about that: “None of us are really aware of what happened 30 years ago. The (Polytechnique) anniversary is fast approaching—it’s news to all of us, to be honest.” Good grief.

GIFT: To say Rick Bowness came in with a bang would be the biggest understatement since Noah said, “Geez, it smells like rain.” The Winnipeg Jets freshly minted head coach hadn’t been in town long enough to order a cup o’ java and cheese nip at the Sals when he instructed the seamstress to snip the ‘C’ off Blake Wheeler’s jersey, and I’d say it’s been win-win for both parties. Bones’ Jets are running with the National Hockey League’s big dogs, and Wheeler, until being felled by an owie, had been productive with less ice time and less face time with news snoops. That’s the bonus, of course: No more daily sourpuss sound bites from the former Captain Grumpy Pants.

GIFT: The Jets hit all the right notes when they unveiled a downtown pigeon perch to legend Dale Hawerchuk in October.

LUMP O’ COAL: Let’s be clear, Greg Norman and Phil Mickelson and Dustin Johnson et al have a right to earn a living with the LIV Golf Series, even if it means they need to wash the Saudi blood off their hands every time they cash a paycheque. But does Norman have to be so bitter about it? My goodness, it’s as if every horse in the Kentucky Derby piddled on the Shark’s Corn Flakes one morning.

LUMP O’ COAL: Here’s all you need to know about the Saudi/Greg Norman LIV Golf Series: Pat Perez was handed a four-year, $10 million deal, just to stick a tee in the ground. “Look, I know I can’t beat those kids (on the PGA Tour) anymore. This was a great opportunity for me. I have nothing against the PGA Tour; they did a lot for me, but I had to earn everything I got out there.” Imagine that. Earning your wage. What a concept.

LUMP O’ COAL: TV talking heads made complete donkeys of themselves with their gushing over has-beens Tiger Woods and Serena Williams like they’re still at the top of their games. Hey, maybe Tiger will win another golf tournament (doubtful), and perhaps Williams hasn’t actually retired and she’ll return to win another tennis tourney. Until then, the boys and girls in the blurt box need to use their yakkety-yak time to talk about athletes winning today, not back in the day.

LUMP O’ COAL: Damien Cox and friends of the Toronto Star still believe they have the final say on Canada’s athlete-of-the-year. As if…Novak Djokovic is still wearing tin foil on his head…Bob Costas sat behind the play-by-play mic during MLB playoffs and he refused to shut the hell up. He talked about everything but baseball…The Arizona Coyotes play in a 4,800-seat rinky-dink rink…Danny Maciocia canned Khari Jones due to a lack of discipline and hired himself as head coach of the Montreal Larks. So what happened in the fourth quarter of their East Division final vs. the Toronto Argos? Maciocia’s Larks took four undisciplined penalties to seal their fate…TSN talking heads continually lied about head counts for CFL games. Yo! Boys! We aren’t stupid. We can see the empty seats. Glen Suitor was the worst, constantly blabbing about “packed” ballparks and telling us there was “close to 40,000” at B.C. Place Stadium for the West semifinal, even if attendance was scarcely more than 30,000. Meanwhile, Milt Stegall informed us the Bombers had “sellouts through the season.” There were, in fact, two sellouts, both in September…Kyrie Irving, just because he’s Kyrie Irving…The Boston Bruins signed bully Mitchell Miller and the Montreal Canadiens signed Logan Mailloux, a young man who likes to take pics of women engaged in sexual activity and, without their consent, share the photos with his frat boy buddies. Oinkers.

LUMP O’ COAL: Dumbest tweet of the year from Theoren Fleury, the former NHLer and current conspiracy theorist who, when last seen, was plummeting into a deep rabbit hole: “The biggest spreaders of misinformation are the ones who are spreading misinformation.”

And, finally…

Let’s talk about hockey and the Hollywood hunk…Toronto Sun still playing the NFL card while the Argos still playing football…fairy tales in the TSN booth…prose and panhandling at the Drab Slab…old man Bones getting the job done with Winnipeg Jets…P.K. takes his slew foots to ESPN…and other things on my mind…

Top o’ the morning to you, Ryan Reynolds.

I must say, you sure know how to make a splash without doing anything, other than flapping your gums. The rest of us flap our gums and…crickets. But, hey, you’re a big-time Hollywood star, and a sound bite from a big-time Hollywood star is all it takes to get other gums flapping, especially if you’re perched on a chair beside Jimmy Fallon on The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon.

(Quick aside, Ryan: I’m not a Jimmy Fallon fan. I guess he’s a talented guy and people seem to like him, but not as many as in 2014 when he landed The Tonight Show gig and 11 million people tuned in. Today his audience is 2 million, or thereabouts, a dramatic dip that suggests it’s not just my own self who’s found him to be a fawning fool as a host on late-night gab TV.)

Anyway, Ryan, this isn’t about your buddy’s ratings. It’s about you telling Jimmy that you’re on the sniff for a “sugar mommy or sugar daddy,” a filthy rich someone willing to dip into her/his pockets and aid you in a bid to buy the Ottawa Senators.

I caught your natter with Fallon and here’s what I thought, Ryan: It’s only fitting that an actor wants to purchase Ottawa HC. After all, the Senators have been play-acting as an National Hockey League team for the past five seasons.

Ya, I went for a cheap laugh, Ryan, (Ta-dum! We’re here all week, folks.) just like you did with your quip to Jimmy F. about buying U.S. senators on your Tonight Show bit.

Seriously, though, this is what I really thought of your notion: What does it say when a guy worth $150 million needs a “sugar mommy or sugar daddy” to help him get a shiny, new toy? I mean, folks worth $150M shouldn’t be looking for sugar mommies or daddies. People ought to be coming to you for handouts, Ryan.

But I get it.

Forbes, after all, put a sticker price of $525 million on the Senators a year ago, and Sportico pegged the franchise at $655 million just last month, so it’s not like you’re looking to buy a newly knitted ugly Christmas sweater or a dinky toy (do they still make those things?) to put under the tree next month. Even if you and your bride, Blake Lively, coupled your fortunes, $180 million will only get you a tank of gas for the Zamboni. And maybe a backup goaltender, although he’d have to moonlight and drive the Zamboni.

So, sure, bring on the sugar mommy and/or daddy if that’s what it takes, Ryan. We can’t have enough Hollywood celeb owners.

I think John Candy was the last one we had up here on our Frozen Tundra, when he threw in with Wayne Gretzky and Bruce McNall to bankroll the Toronto Argos. That worked out okay. The Boatmen won the Grey Cup and Candy was a delightful diversion for all who follow Rouge Football. And I suppose Humpty Harold Ballard qualified as a celeb bankroll while paying the bills for the Toronto Maple Leafs and Hamilton Tabbies, but I don’t recall anyone ever calling him Hollywood Harold. More like Hoosegow Harold.

No doubt they’d love you as a front man in Bytown, Ryan, because you’re a nice blend of Tinsel Town star power and aw shucks, home boy charm, a guy who does right by others without being phony or loud about it.

I hope it works out for you, Ryan. And, hey, if you find your sugar mommy or daddy, don’t let them talk you into doing something totally daft. You know, like selling the next Daniel Alfredsson or Erik Karlsson for a bag of pucks. Don’t be like Eugene.

That was quite an emotional pre-game scene on Friday night in the Republic of Tranna, where Toronto Maple Leafs great Borje Salming stepped front and centre (with assistance from Darryl Sittler) and received a warm greeting from the gathering at Scotiabank Arena. Salming is suffering from ALS, so send a kind thought his way.

I was a perfect 0-2 in forecasting the opening salvo of the Canadian Football League playoffs last weekend, and I blame it all on TSN natterbug Davis Sanchez, because he confuses me. Chezy aside, I like the Winnipeg Blue Bombers over the B.C. Leos in Good Ol’ Hometown this afternoon, and the Toronto Argos over the Montreal Larks at a half empty BMO Field. (I actually think the Larks will prevail, but I don’t fancy Danny Maciocia’s smugness, so I want him to lose.)

During the buildup to today’s Argos-Larks skirmish, the Toronto Sun devoted a full page to the pipe-dream prospect of the NFL chipping in to construct an NFL-worthy stadium in the Republic of Tranna. “CHEERING FOR T.O.” was the headline. Surely to gawd they could have chosen a better time to run that piece. Like, oh I don’t know, never! But I guess The ROT’s obsession with four-down football will never end, and the tabloid is happy to play along.

Interesting how newspapers with dogs in the fights played the Rouge Football division finals in their sports sections today:
Winnipeg Sun: Front page of paper, sports Pages 1-8.
Winnipeg Free Press: Sports P. 1-2.
Vancouver Province: Sports P. 6-8.
Toronto Sun: Sports P. 6-7.
Toronto Star: Sports P. 8.
Montreal Gazette: Sports P. 2.
In Good Ol’ Hometown, the tabloid Sun absolutely mauled the broadsheet Drab Slab with its coverage.

Okay, once again, why do the squawk boxes on TSN insist on lying to us about head counts for Rouge Football games?

I mean, to listen to Glen Suitor last Sunday, half the people in Vancouver were crammed into B.C. Place Stadium to witness the Leos-Calgary Stampeders grass-grabber. More than once he mentioned the place was “packed” (there was repeated reference to an audience numbering “close” to 40,000) and that the Leos had created the “template” for turning around a sagging franchise.

As if.

The ballyard in Vancouver accommodates 54,500. Attendance: 30,114. That’s not “close” to 40,000 and, if my math is correct, it’s 24,386 empty chairs. Ergo, not “packed.”

So let’s deal in facts rather than the fiction Suits was spewing:

The Leos attracted 20,387 customers per game during the regular season, a notable hike of 7,879 from a year ago. That’s boffo stuff. They twice sold out the lower bowl at B.C. Place Stadium, first for the home-opener that featured a OneRepublic concert, and for last weekend’s West Division semifinal. Again, boffo stuff.

That tells us team bankroll Amar Doman and his worker bees have done a remarkable and praiseworthy job in their quest to make the Leos relevant on the Left Flank of the land again, so accentuate the positive but spare us the bedtime fairy tales.

What’s the over/under on how often Suitor mentions “three chords and the truth, baby” during today’s Blue Bombers-Leos skirmish for bragging rights in the West Division? Whatever it is, I’ll take the over.

As the Grey Cup game approaches, I find myself wondering if this is the year the Football Reporters of Canada finally vote a female scribe/talking head into the Canadian Football Hall of Fame. I’ve been touting Robin Brown, Joanne Ireland, Judy Owen and Ashley Prest as hall-worthy for years, because they have the bona fides and it’s wrong that the media wing of the CFHF remains an all-boys club this deep into the 21st century. If the world’s oldest golf club, the Royal Burgess in Edinburgh, has finally opened its doors to women, surely the FRC can, too.

At a time when more and more toxicity in sports is being unearthed, Judy Owen’s piece on the Bombers culture is a refreshing read. Judy’s been churning out Rouge Football copy, on and off, for more than a quarter-century, and it’s nice to know she still has the touch.

On the subject of the write stuff, Jeff Hamilton of the Drab Slab delivers a major takeout on Winnipeg FC QB Zach Collaros. It’s an easy, informative read, so pour yourself a cup of java, settle in, and enjoy Jeff’s scribbling.

The Drab Slab has gone PBS on us, panhandling online by asking 1,500 readers and/or friends to pony up $150 apiece and join something called the Free Press Patron program. The annual $225,000 cash grab is (supposedly) required due to lost advertising revenue and no more feeding at the public trough, and it will (supposedly) “safeguard the future of the Free Press and journalism that matters.” Hmmm. If I’m going to donate $150 of my meager pension to a panhandling newspaper, I want them to hire a sports columnist who stays home to write about the Bombers instead of swanning off to Calgary and Seattle for ho-hum games No. 13 and 14 of the Winnipeg Jets 82-match marathon. That’s just wrong. Every local sports columnist from Rouge Football playoffs past must be spinning like a lathe in his grave, even those who aren’t yet in the grave.

Watched both TSN SportsCentre and Sportsnet Central in the small hours this morning, and couldn’t help but notice the avalanche of American college football highlights. Meantime, there was no mention of Canadian U Sports football playoffs on TSN, and Sportsnet showed highlights from two skirmishes in Eastern Canada and ignored the University of Saskatchewan Huskies 23-8 victory over the UBC Thunderbirds. Typical, also pathetic.

The removal of the ‘C’ from Blake Wheeler’s jersey was the most obvious indication that the Jets no longer have their wagon tied to the veteran winger, and additional evidence can be found on the freeze. He’s now a second-line performer whose ice-time allotment averaged 19:12 a year ago but has been slashed to 17:08 through 13 skirmishes this time around, with no negative impact on his production. Hmmm. Why didn’t Paul Maurice think of that? Whatever, the Wheeler Window has been closed, and it appears the Jets have a better chance of doing some damage in the Stanley Cup merry-go-round next spring with the former captain in a supporting role.

Just curious: If Dusty Baker can manage the Houston Astros—and win the World Series—at age 73, why did many among the rabble think Rick Bowness was too long-in-tooth for the Jets coaching gig at age 67? How do you like the old man so far, people?

Sideshow Gary Bettman was in Good Ol’ Hometown last week, and the NHL commish informed news snoops that empty seats in the Little Hockey House On The Prairie is no biggie. “I don’t think there’s an attendance issue,” he said. Hmmm. I suppose when you have another franchise that maxes out at 5,000 customers in the Arizona desert, 13,000+ doesn’t look so bad.

I’m guessing Puck Pontiff Mark Chipman, the 3rd Baron Thomson of Fleet and the bean counters at True North Sports + Entertainment don’t view 1,000+ unoccupied chairs in the Little Hockey House the same as Commish Gary. I’m guessing they think it’s “an issue” and it sucks. But, since the Puck Pontiff delivers fewer sound bites than a street mime, we really don’t know what he’s thinking.

What kind of scheduling is this? The Calgary Flames put the wrap on a three-games-in-four-nights road swing on the East Coast, then they were required to scurry across the continent from Boston to Calgary, where a Jets outfit that had played one game in six nights sat in wait. So how did Winnipeg HC conspire to lose 3-2 last night?

An aside to those among the rabble in E-Town who’ve soured on Jack Campbell’s goaltending and demand to see Mike Smith back in the blue paint for the Oilers: That’s like asking Bonnie and Clyde to guard your valuables.

Hey, former defenceman P.K. Subban has landed a job talking about all things NHL on ESPN. Apparently his contract includes a clause that allows him to step outside the studio and slew foot anyone on the street whenever he’s feeling frisky.

Did you know there’s a National Toy Hall of Fame in the U.S.? Yup, true story. It’s in Rochester, N.Y., and they just announced the newest inductees—the spinning top, Masters of the Universe and Lite Brite. I’d say the salute to the top is long overdue, because the twirling toy has been around for about 5,000 years, or the same amount of time it’ll take Pete Rose to get into the National Baseball Hall of Fame.

There’s been a lot of yakkety-yak lately comparing Flightline to Secretariat. Well, let me say this about that: Whoa Nellie! I watched Flightline romp to the wire in the Breeders Cup Classic last weekend, and it was gobsmackingly brilliant, but my measuring stick for race horses is the giddyup they show in the Kentucky Derby, the Preakness and the Belmont Stakes. Until a pony comes along and betters Secretariat’s record in all three gallops, I’ll take Big Red every time.

Oh, dear, the universe is not unfolding as the U.S. women’s national soccer side would have it. Motormouth Megan Rapinoe and the Yankee Doodle Damsels were beaten 2-1 by Germany the other night in Fort Lauderdale, Fla., their third consecutive L in friendlies and first on their star-spangled homeland in more than five years. The team only an American can like had gone unbeaten in 71 successive matches inside U.S. borders. Longtime national team member Carli Lloyd suggests accountability has taken a hit in the U.S. side, saying it “has been slowly fizzling away. Wanting to win has taken on a different meaning.” Meantime, our Canadian women have won five friendlies in a row, the latest a 2-1 verdict over Brazil in Santos on Friday, so the stars and planets are aligning on our side of the great U.S.-Canada divide.

George Costanza and The Boss, George Steinbrenner.

Just a thought: If George Steinbrenner was still picking up the tab for the New York Yankees would he have allowed home run king Aaron Judge to reach free agency? Over George Costanza’s dead body.

From the department of You Can’t Make This Stuff Up: The Houston Astros managed to win the World Series earlier this month without using garbage cans to cheat (we think), then, scant days later, they tied the can to GM James Click and assistant GM Scott Powers. What, they didn’t cheat enough?

There are loud rumblings that the most bitter of men, grumpy Greg Norman, soon will be out as mouthpiece for the Saudi-moneyed LIV Golf Series. The Saudis deny they plan to DQ the Shark. But, hey, they also deny killing people.

And, finally…

	pattidawnswansson on Let’s talk about Chelsea…
	Dan Carey on Let’s talk about Chelsea…
	Debora Peters on Let’s talk about hosanna…
	pattidawnswansson on Let’s talk about hosanna…
	Debora Peters on Let’s talk about hosanna…