Let’s talk about our two all-Leafs sports channels missing the boat on the Canucks…hug an Oilers fan…bye, bye Bo?…Rouge Football in Quebec City…neck guards and vanity…cleavage on the sports pages…and other things on my mind

A tweet is a tweet is a tweet by any name, so don’t call these the X files…

Let’s take inventory: The Vancouver Canucks have the third-best record in the National Hockey League, 8-2-1.
The Canucks are tops among the seven Canadian-based outfits.
The Canucks lineup features the league’s top point-collector, Elias Pettersson.
The Canucks lineup features the league’s top-scoring defenceman, Quinn Hughes.
The Canucks lineup features three of the league’s top-10 scorers.
The Canucks racked up another W on Saturday night, beating the Dallas Stars 2-zip.
So who did Sportsnet lead its highlights show with this morning? That’s right, the Toronto Maple Leafs, who lost.
And who did TSN lead its hockey package with this morning? That’s right, the Toronto Maple Leafs.
Well, of course they did. After all, Leafs coach Sheldon Keefe let his guard dog, Ryan Reaves, off the bench long enough to do nothing except snarl at some of the Buffalo Sabres. And sources say both Auston Matthews and Mitch Marner brushed their teeth post-game, so Sportsnet and TSN had no choice but to put the loser Leafs in front of the Canucks on the pecking order.
If it doesn’t happen in the Republic of Tranna, it doesn’t happen, right?
Pathetic. Truly pathetic. But not surprising.

If you meet an Edmonton Oilers fan today, speak softly when trying to talk her or him off the ledge. And, hey, let’s declare this Hug An Oilers Fan Day.

Looking for the name Connor McDavid in the chase for the Art Ross Trophy? Well, you’ll need a coal miner and a canary to find the Oilers captain, because he’s lower than Trudeau the Younger’s approval rating. He’s T56 with 10 points. Interesting thing, though: I still wouldn’t want to bet against McDavid winning the top-scorer trinket.

What a boffo sports weekend in Vancouver—the B.C. Leos and UBC Thunderbirds both won playoff football skirmishes, while the Canucks shut down the Dallas Stars, and now the Whitecaps are ready to join the fun with a playoff futbol kickabout this afternoon. Why, there hasn’t been this much excitement in Vancity since the rabble broke out the matches and tried to burn the place down in 2011.

Now that the Leos have booked a date with the Blue Bombers next Saturday in Good Ol’ Hometown, the big question in advance of the Canadian Football League West Division final is this: What level of nastiness will Ma Nature dial up? I mean, it’s one thing for the Leos to give the Calgary Stampeders a 41-30 wedgie in the climate-controlled environment of B.C. Place, but beating the Bombers on their frost-bitten, frozen tundra is a special kind of challenge. Prairie football in mid-November can be harsher than a hanging judge, so if Ma Nature is in a foul mood it’s advantage Winnipeg.

Chances are we’ve seen the last of Bo Levi Mitchell, Rouge Football quarterback extraordinaire. Bo spent all but 6½ minutes on the sidelines Saturday, his roll with the Hamilton Tabbies reduced to mop-up duty in a 27-12 loss to the Montreal Larks. He tossed four passes, one that went to one of his guys, one that went to one of the other guys, and two that missed the mark. It wasn’t what the Tabbies anticipated or expected when they handed the broken-down Bo a three-year contract that pays in excess of $500,000 per. “If you’re not playing your highest paid player on this team in a playoff game, I don’t foresee myself being here,” Mitchell told TSN’s Matthew Scianitti in a somber Tabbies changing room. Trouble is, his options are limited. Only one outfit in Rouge Football will be in the market for a starting QB—Ottawa—and they know Bo isn’t even a reasonable facsimile of his former self.

What in the name of Sam Etcheverry was Cody Fajardo thinking? I mean, the Montreal Larks QB chose to play the “no respect” card in advance of the CFL East Division semifinal, which is fine. Like, whatever floats your boat, right? But I’m not sure the guy who pays the bills, Pierre Karl Peladeau, appreciated his quarterback telling potential fans to get lost.“It’s too late,” Fajardo said. “It’s too late to buy stock in this football team and that’s our mindset. We’ll prove it when we get to the Grey Cup and we hoist that Grey Cup over our head.” That’s just dumb.

The Lords of Rouge Football have given commissioner Randy Ambrosie a mandate to grow by one, which is to say add an expansion franchise. But don’t bet on it being in the Maritimes. Commish Randy had a natter with Donnie and Dhali The Team the other day, and he sounded more bullish on Quebec City becoming the 10th member. “We’re trying to cross that last hurdle and be able to announce a team,” he told Don Taylor and Rick Dhaliwal. “Will we or won’t we, I don’t know for sure. But it’s not just about Atlantic Canada. We’re going to look at other markets. Quebec City is a fantastic market. In many respects, it’s the most logical next city by size—it’s just slightly smaller than Winnipeg, it’s bigger than both Regina and Saskatoon combined. It’s got a great community…Quebec has got a great football culture. It would establish a tremendous rivalry for the Alouettes. There’s lots of reasons to like that market. So we’re not exclusively Atlantic Canada focused. We need to look at these other markets.”

Once again, I ask this: How can the Football Reporters of Canada possibly hand Chad Kelly the Most Outstanding Player trinket when he leads Rouge Football in exactly zero—zero!—significant QB categories? Of the seven guys who tossed 300-plus passes this crusade, here’s where the Toronto Argos quarterback ranks:
5th in completions
4th in completion percentage
4th in yards
3rd in TDs
T2 in fewest interceptions
2nd in efficiency
4th in rushing.
Do the math, boys and girls.

Apparently Arash Madani failed math, because the Sportsnet natterbug and Football Canada board member revealed his final awards ballot on X, and he opted for Kelly over the more worthy Brady Oliveira, the Winnipeg Blue Bombers running back who covered more ground than an 1880s Oklahoma Sooner. Oliveira was first in rushing (by 400 yards), first in yards from scrimmage (2,016) and first in touchdowns (13). What part of “first” does Madani not understand?

No surprise that Madani would give his MOP vote to Kelly, because we’re accustomed to brain farts by arrogant news snoops in the Republic of Tranna. But his indifference is inexcusable. In naming his choice for top offensive lineman, he writes. “Hardrick, I guess.” He guesses? He guesses Jermarcus Hardrick of the Bombers is the best grunt guy in Rouge Football? He didn’t give it any thought? He didn’t consult anyone? Is he not aware that winning one of these awards could benefit the player at contract time? If Madani is guessing, why did the FRC give him a ballot? Shame, shame.

If we were to poll the 700-plus National Hockey League players, asking them if wearing neck/throat protection is preferable to a trip to the morgue, little doubt the result would be unanimous on the “yes” side. That’s because they know their skate blades are razor sharp and, if dragged across human flesh, they’re apt to cause injury. Deadly injury. They knew this before Adam Johnson’s neck was sliced open by an opponent’s skate blade during an Elite Ice Hockey League game in the U.K. last weekend, and they’re aware he died on an operating table at Northern Sheffield Hospital shortly thereafter. They also know about Clint Malarchuk and Richard Zednik. So why are so many declining to wear available neck protection?

Silliest reason for balking on what could be life-saving equipment: Vanity. “To be honest, I think guys just don’t like the look of them.” Brock Boeser of the Canucks told Sportsnet. Meantime, Ottawa Senators forward Mathieu Joseph provided the backup vocals: “It bugs some guys to wear them, and they don’t think it looks good, but we don’t want to lose another player like we just did.” Yo! Boys! People are paying in excess of $100 to get into an NHL rink to watch hockey, not to stare at your neck. Your wife or girl friend might think your neck is sexy, but it isn’t a selling point to anyone else.

Other players, like Buffalo Sabres blueliner Rasmus Dahlin, gave neck/throat protection a test drive last week and found it to be cumbersome and made him too hot, so he scrapped it mid-game. I’m guessing fire fighters find their equipment cumbersome, as well, but they won’t enter a burning building without it.

Just a thought: Why do NHL players need a reminder that wagering on NHL games is a definite no-no? Are they really that dense?

As I recall, Maple Leafs GM Brad Treliving recruited Tyler Bertuzzi, Ryan Reaves and Max Domi to provide more grit and toughness and sandpaper to a roster that had been lacking in grit, toughness and sandpaper. So how’s it working out? Well, here’s Terry Koshan’s take in the Toronto Sun: “Not only have Tyler Bertuzzi, Max Domi and Ryan Reaves not provided the snot that general manager Brad Treliving envisioned when he signed them during the summer, the trio hasn’t provided much of anything.”

Love this tweet from Josh Bradshaw: “Brad Treliving at the Free Agent Drive Thru this past Offseason: ‘Hey could I get an order of piss and vinegar? On second thought, hold the vinegar.’ ”

I saw a headline the other day that said they’d found evidence of rats in supposedly rat-free Alberta. I assumed Brad Marchand had been traded to the Flames or Oilers.

What happens first, Victor Wembanyama scores 50 points in an NBA game or I spell his name correctly without looking it up?

Things that make me go hmmm, Vol. 2,161: James Harden—late of the Oklahoma City Thunder, late of the Houston Rockets, late of the Brooklyn Nets, late of the Philly 76ers and now a member of the Los Angeles Clippers—is a curious bit of business, but not in an admirable way. Arguably the most annoying man in hoops, if not all sports, he had a meet-and-greet natter with L.A. news snoops the other day and delivered a most curious sound bite. “I’m not a system player. I’m a system,” he said. Hmmm. I think he meant to say he was a symptom of the Me-First Epidemic in today’s NBA.

I mentioned Conservative Party leader Pierre Poilievre’s phony smile in last week’s post, and that put at least one reader’s nose out of joint. “Don’t get Canadian political,” he scolded. Fair enough. I’ll get out of politics if Poilievre gets out of politics.

If I were to interview Poilievre, I think I’d do something rude. You know, like eat an apple while asking questions.

True story: I called up the the Toronto Sun website the other day and found an article by Dan Bilicki with the headline “Paige Spiranic says her breasts have gotten ‘a lot bigger’. If you haven’t been formally introduced, Spiranic is a one-time pro golfer and now a “golf influencer” (whatever the hell that means), and Bilicki tells us all about Paige’s girls, which are ample. I’m uncertain how the size and realness of Paige’s boobs qualifies as a sports article, but it’s rumored that a feature on the Real Housewives of Mississauga will be on the sports front next week.

Just wondering: Is it mandatory for me to include a pic of Taylor Swift with this post, or is it enough that I mention her?

And, finally, I’m a Beatles fan, but I’m not a Beatles fan who believes every song from the Liverpool lads is a classic. The Fab Four’s newest/old recording, Now and Then, is one of their non-classics, even if it brought tears to my eyes upon first listen. But after half a dozen listens since its release last Thursday, it hasn’t really grown on me. It’s similar to Free As A Bird, also not a classic. I’m glad Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr put it out, but it won’t replace A Day In the Life or I Am the Walrus or Got To Get You Into My Life or Dear Prudence or She’s A Woman on my playlist.

Let’s talk about the Puck Pontiff and believing in the believer…zeroes across the board for Captain Cranky Pants…Quinn Hughes and an anti-West Coast bias…Coach Grunge tracking down the Silver Fox…welcome to the 1960s…and other things on my mind

Ed Sullivan and The Beatles.

If we are to believe Mark Chipman—and why wouldn’t we?—the Winnipeg Jets will remain in Good Ol’ Hometown forever.

Repeat after me: For-ever!

Granted, that isn’t the word the Puck Pontiff used during the 18-plus minutes he and Darren Dreger of TSN spent flapping gums last week, but it’s what he meant in responding to the only question that truly mattered in their natter.

“Is there any real threat of a sale, a relocation if this can’t get turned around?” asked Dreger, referencing the shockingly modest gatherings (a low of 11,136; ave. 11,823) at the Little Hockey House On The Prairie through the first month of the current National Hockey League crusade.

“No,” was the Puck Pontiff’s firm and immediate reply.

So, even if head counts sewer to World Hockey Association levels, which is to say 10,000 or less, the Puck Pontiff and his co-bankroll, the 3rd Baron Thomson of Fleet, will not abandon Good Ol’ Hometown in favor of a distant burg that might provide greener grass and a greater number of paying customers. This won’t be a redux of Jets 1.0 in April 1996, when the town’s hockey heroes made like thieves in the night and skedaddled to the Arizona desert.

“I can see how you would ask that question,” the Puck Pontiff told Dreger, “because it happened once is it a concern it could happen again because it’s the smallest market? I say not on our watch.”

Chipman, chairman of True North Sports + Entertainment, said the April 1996 experience was “beyond heartbreaking” and confessed he “wept like a child” when Jets 1.0 fled, thus he harbors no desire to live through a repeat wave of that high-level emotional crumbling.

So don’t worry your little heads, kids. The Jets aren’t packing ’em in anymore, but they aren’t packing their bags, either. For the Puck Pontiff to run and hide…well, that would be the ultimate betrayal by a born-and-raised Winnipegger who wears his passion for the town and team on his sleeve.

Now, having said all that, there’s something you should know about hockey people: They lie.

Hockey is Planet Pinocchio, where noses grow longer than Winnipeg winters and pants are always on fire. I think the last honest man in hockey was Don Baizley, the much-admired player agent. And, yes, now that you mention it, honest and player agent in the same sentence seems like a contradiction in terms. But Baiz was special.

Anyway, don’t go running off with the notion that I’m calling the Puck Pontiff a liar. Truth is, I believe him when he says there’s no plan to put up a For Sale sign at 300 Portage Ave., or to pitch tent elsewhere, as long as his and the 3rd Baron’s names are on the deed. (I know, I know, a wise acre would scoff and ask, “What did you expect him to say? He wasn’t going to appear on national TV and use buy-tickets-or-else scare tactics, like he did at a Chamber of Commerce luncheon and in an ill-advised marketing campaign last April.”)

I also believe Chipman believes he can win back the affections of the 3,000-plus people who’ve abandoned their seats in the Little Hockey House and reduced the season-ticket base from 13,000 to less than 10,000.

“I don’t think people expected us to sell out 10 years in a row, but we did,” the Puck Pontiff told Dreger. “So the fact that we did is what gives me hope and confidence and expectation that we can draw people back to watch the product that we’ve put together.”

Believe in the believer and fill the offering basket, brothers and sisters! Hallelujah!

Except for this: At no point did Chipman hold himself to account for mistakes made (he mentioned the pandemic three times, though), and he neglected to explain how True North will woo the 3,000 wanderers back to the fold.

Many among the rabble, after all, turned hostile last spring as the club floundered in its pursuit of a playoff berth, and the Puck Pontiff didn’t make many friends when his True North marketing arm unleashed an offensive Forever Winnipeg sales pitch, which featured clips from April 1996 when the original franchise skipped town. It was bullying and threatening in tone.

But fans bullied right back on social media, taking aim at customer service, pricing and indifference. They were royally PO’d.

“I can tell you that our group—we’ve got 300 full-time with us that are taking this very seriously—are working very, very hard at earning that customer base back and we have every confidence that we will,” was the Puck Pontiff’s closing comment to Dreger.

Again, he declined to share strategy or cop to missteps by himself or True North, but he did mention something about putting petrol in his car, so I guess things aren’t so bad that he has to ride a bus to the rink.

I suppose it’s all moot, though, because the Puck Pontiff has assured us that he and the 3rd Baron have no inclination toward selling out. Come hell, pandemic or low attendance, the Jets will be playing hockey in Good Ol’ Hometown as long as the Red and Assiniboine rivers meet at The Forks. Cross his heart and hope to win the Stanley Cup.

Question is: Is today’s truth the same truth 10 years from now?

A tip of the bonnet to Dreger for scoring his 18-plus minutes audience with the Puck Pontiff. It was quite a coup. I mean, Chipman normally spends as much time talking with news snoops as the Pope spends at a blackjack table, and most hand puppets have more to say.

Some among the rabble seem to think news snoops are making too much fuss about Jets attendance woes. One person took to X and instructed Scott Billeck to “promote” the Jets and the city, and he also wondered if the Winnipeg Sun scribe “personally” purchases season tickets. Meantime, the same person demanded that Mad Mike McIntyre of the Drab Slab also drop the low head count narrative. Apparently, it makes him sound like “the clown from the Sun.” Hoo boy. First of all, why would Billeck pay to go to work? Who does that? Second, coverage of the Jets since training camp commenced has been ultra-positive in both dailies. It’s so syrupy that it makes the few natural teeth I have left ache.

Does Chipman have a problem with news snoops focusing on empty seats at the Little Hockey House? “I think I understand why it’s news,” he told Dreger.

I found this remark from the Puck Pontiff to be a total load of hooey: “The team really belongs to the community. We get referred to as owners, but we’re really more stewards and that’s how we approach this.” Nice sentiment, but as phony as Pierre Poilievre’s smile. The Winnipeg Blue Bombers belong to the community, from the dirt in Brady Oliveira’s cleats to the ink on the bottom line of the budget, which we get to see. The Bombers are held accountable to and by the community. The Jets, on the other hand, belong to two filthy rich dudes, the Puck Pontiff and 3rd Baron, and we’ll see the ink on the bottom line of their financial statement when the Golden Boy puts on a pair of blue jeans.

For those of you scoring at home, here’s the line for Jets former Captain Cranky Pants, Blake Wheeler, now with the New York Rangers: 8 games, 0 goals, 0 assists, 0 points, -3 on a first-place team. Versus the Vancouver Canucks on Saturday night, he had 11 shifts and 7:30 ice time. Overall, he spends an average of 11:38 on the ice per game, compared to 17:02 last year with the Jets.

Out here on the Other Side Of The Rocks, many among the rabble are convinced that Canucks superb defenceman Quinn Hughes is grossly underrated, and geography is the reason. The thinking goes like this: Since puck-drop time for most games at Rogers Arena is 7 o’clock in Vancity, eastern scribes/natterbugs are already tucked in the kip, thus they’re seldom exposed to Hughes’ brilliance. There’s some truth to that. I mean, who in the NHL East Bloc is prepared to keep the eyelids open past midnight to watch the Canucks? Maybe Elliotte Friedman and a few others who don’t have a life. But…does a West Coast locale cost a player like Hughes support in NHL awards voting? No. To use the Toronto Maple Leafs as a comparison vs. West Coast outfits, here’s the scorecard on individual award winners voted on by members of the Professional Hockey Writers Association since 1970 (PHWA members choose winners of the Hart, Norris, Masterton, Selke, Calder and Lady Byng awards.):
Los Angeles Kings: 14.
San Jose Sharks: 5.
Maple Leafs: 5.
Canucks: 4.
Disney Ducks: 4.

Loved this quote from Travis Dermott after he’d defied the NHL’s stupid ban on Pride tape and used the rainbow colors on the shaft of his hockey stick in a game last Saturday: “Never been the rebellious type,” the Arizona Coyotes defender told The Canadian Press. “A lot of guys get on the front of the newspaper for the wrong reasons. But in talking with my family, this definitely isn’t something my daughter would be ashamed of when she’s old enough to understand.”

The ultimate irony, of course, is that Dermott missed the Coyotes Pride Night on Friday, due to illness. Go figure.

Guaranteed to not be performing during NHL all-star festivities in the Republic of Tranna, Feb. 2-3: The Village People, Brandi Carlile, Melissa Etheridge, Elton John, George Michael, Ricky Martin, Tracy Chapman, Lady Gaga, Fergie, kd Lang, Demi Lovato, Queen Latifah, Kim Petras. They’re all too gay for the NHL.

So, the NHL has told Shane Pinto to stand in the corner for Ottawa Senators next 41 skirmishes, because he committed a gambling no-no. What was his crime? The NHL would rather not say. They’re keeping it as clear as a jar of peanut butter, and all we know is the Senators forward did not—repeat: did not—wager on NHL games, and Pinto has apologized for what he didn’t do. Hey, maybe he bet on which player will be next to use Pride tape on his hockey stick.

Apparently, Joe Thornton retired on Saturday. Hands up anyone who knew he was still playing. I mean, when was the last time we saw Jumbo on an NHL freeze? During the Nixon administration?

Bravo to football news snoops in Good Ol’ Hometown for doing the right thing and anointing running back Brady Oliveira the Bombers nominee for Most Outstanding Player in Rouge Football. They could have taken the easy route and given the nod to quarterback Zach Collaros for a third successive season, so I applaud them. And I expect voters across the land to step in line and deliver the MOP trinket to Oliveira during Grey Cup hijinks next month in The Hammer.

The Bombers 36-13 romp vs. Calgary Stampeders on Friday night in Cowtown was win No. 96 for head coach Mike O’Shea, leaving him just six shy of the Silver Fox, Bud Grant, who set the standard for regular-season Ws with the storied Canadian Football League franchise. Coach Grunge is 96-62 in his 10 crusades as sideline steward, and an astonishing 84-38 once he found his footing, which is to say after his first two seasons. Who among us, other than Bombers chief cook and bottle washer Wade Miller, saw that coming when Coach Grunge was brought on board?

On the subject of CFL sideline stewards, Craig Dickenson was told to get out of Dodge by Saskatchewan Roughriders CEO Craig Reynolds after back-to-back 6-12 crusades, yet GM Jeremy O’Day has been rewarded with a three-year contract add-on. Does that make sense anywhere other than on the Flattest of Lands?

How to make friends and influence people: Tickets for the West Division semifinal between Calgary Stampeders and B.C. Leos next Saturday at B.C. Place start at $30 for adults and a rock-bottom $15 for youth 17-and-under. That isn’t a typo. It’s just 15 bucks for a Rouge Football playoff game. Leos bankroll Amar Doman continues to push all the right buttons.

They’re calling it the Manitoba Miracle out there on the University of Manitoba campus, because head coach Brian Dobie’s Bisons have qualified for the U Sports football playoffs in a most dramatic manner. Even though they came up short on the scoreboard, 35-23, vs. the Dinosaurs in Calgary on Saturday, the Herd earned a date with the UBC Thunderbirds in Vancouver on Nov. 4, and you’ll want to read Mike Still’s report on the wacko finish in Cowtown. It’s a fifth successive trip to the playoffs for the Bisons, a program record.

A tip of the bonnet to Don Taylor, longtime radio/TV sports gab guy out here on the Other Side Of The Rocks. Taylor, now host of Donnie and Dhali The Team on CHEK TV, has been informing and entertaining viewers and listeners on all things jock for more than 40 years, and he’s received his just reward with induction to the B.C. Sports Hall of Fame. Well done, Donnie.

Former U.S. President George W. Bush hurled the ceremonial first pitch before Game 1 of the World Series the other night, and I must say the 43rd commander-in-chief doesn’t walk. He struts. Like a Texan. Who’s spent a lot of time on the back of a quarterhorse. He’s not much of a pitcher, though. His ceremonial toss was a one-hopper to ceremonial catcher Pudge Rodriguez.

Apparently another former U.S. president, Donald J. Trump, watched the Bush pitch and was not impressed. “I once struck out Hank Aaron, Willie Mays and Mickey Mantle on consecutive at-bats one afternoon,” the ex-Commander-in-Fibbing told Sean Hannity on Fox News. “I had a fastball they couldn’t touch. Fast. Like nobody’s ever seen. Nobody. Ever. They tried to measure my fastball on the Jugs gun and the gun broke. Can you imagine that? Me breaking the Jugs gun? I’m usually so careful with jugs. Ask Stormy Daniels about that. They told me they’d never seen anything like it. Ever. The New York Yankees wanted to sign me. The New York Mets wanted to sign me. But I told them I had bone spurs, so the greatest career in the history of baseball never happened.”

And, finally, the Rolling Stones are at the top of the charts in the U.K., Australia and Germany with their new album, Hackney Diamonds, and The Beatles will be releasing a new single with John Lennon on lead vocals later this week. Welcome to the 1960s, kids. All that’s missing is Ed Sullivan and his “really big shew” and “little chickadees.”

Let’s talk about shinny sinners and the impossible search for sainthood…Fibs ‘R’ Us in the TSN blab booth…Pebble People head to Montana’s…Ponytail Puck name-dropping…the Anointed One with the Vancouver Canucks…Donnie & Dahli…and other things on my mind

Mike Babcock

We can assume that L’Affaire Phone Flap has not escaped the attention of both Joel Quenneville and Stan Bowman.

The two hockey lifers carry hall of fame bona fides, except while they collaborated in transforming the Chicago Blackhawks into a Stanley Cup champion they were also pretending the sexual assault of one of their charges, Kyle Beach, didn’t happen.

It took them a decade to ‘fess up, and the coverup became a large pile of dirty laundry that landed them on the National Hockey League persona non grata heap in 2021.

Now we hear that both Coach Q and GM Bowman seek to be invited back into the Old Boys Club, but I find myself wondering if they might want to have a serious rethink about a redo.

I say that because it would place them in the same unenviable, no-win position as Mike Babcock, whose bad bedside manner had him on the ‘buyer beware’ list and kept him out of the NHL from 2019 until this past July 1, when the Columbus Blue Jackets took a leap of faith and handed him their coaching gig.

The ask of Babs was basic: Achieve sainthood (a tall task since it’s unlikely that Pope Francis knows a Blue Jacket from bluetooth).

Babcock had always walked heavy and carried a big stick behind NHL pine (a bully), but this time around it had to be walk softly and leave the big stick at home if his desire was to continue collecting a paycheque as bench puppeteer with Columbus.

Well, not going to happen.

Babcock, who was under more scrutiny than a lab rat, wasn’t permitted so much as a misstep, and he’s gone from puck purgatory to hockey hell after the Stanley Cup and Olympic champion coach resigned Sunday following some sleuthing by the NHL and the NHL Players Association.

Babcock’s folly this time around was a fondness for looking at family photos. Not his. His players’.

Apparently, it was part of his getting-to-know-you process with the serfs, an opportunity to develop warm-and-fuzzies before they all set out on another NHL crusade later this week. He asked to see pics of their families and they handed him their phone.

The players weren’t obliged to do it, of course, but they were obliged to do it. You know, hockey culture and all.

It was seen by many as a perversion, an invasion of privacy, a boss-worker powerplay to confirm class structure and remind the serfs who carries the big stick. Others, meanwhile, accepted it as a team-building gambit akin to gathering friends around the campfire, toasting marshmallows, singing Kumbaya and swapping lies.

Indeed, two of the team’s prominent players, captain Boone Jenner and Johnny Gaudreau, wondered what all the fuss was about.

“While meeting with Babs he asked me about my family and where I’m from, my upcoming wedding and hockey-related stuff,” Jenner said. “He then asked if I had pictures of my family and I was happy to share some with him. He showed me pictures of his family. I thought it was a great first meeting and good way for us to start to build a relationship. To have this blown out of proportion is truly disappointing.”

“Personally, I had a great meeting with him,” is how Gaudreau explained it to Kristen Shilton of ESPN. “We got to share things together, pictures of our family. I was a little upset to see the way it was handled and how it came out…but nothing you can do about it. We got off to a great start, had a great meeting with him and looking forward to working together.”

If any among the Blue Jackets had objected, his voice is yet to be identified.

So all the negative noise we heard came from outside the Columbus changing room, starting with the rude and vulgar Paul Bissonnette on the Spittin’ Chiclets podcast and amplified by grudge-clutching former players like Frank Corrado of TSN.

“He’s a weird guy,” Corrado told the boys on the Sekeres & Price Show. “He has a hard time kind of levelling with players. And to be honest with you, I’ll be completely honest, he does not care about your family. He just doesn’t. He’s not gonna remember their names, he doesn’t care. That’s my experience, I lived it and for me it’s a little bit phony. Even the other thing I saw, a three-part article about Babs and he’s talking about mental health again…doesn’t care about your mental health. He flat out does not care. All he cares about is himself. This communication plan thing, it’s such a bogus thing. It really is. I think the whole thing is weird, but I’m not surprised because he’s just an awkward guy.”

Corrado cited one example of the perceived Babs weirdness: Both were at a Toronto Maple Leafs Christmas party and the sparingly used defenceman introduced Babcock to his then-girlfriend, a law student. A day or two later, the coach approached Corrado and said, “Ya, you’re hittin’ way out of your league there.”

Good grief. Any shlub with a babe on his arm has heard that line, but apparently it’s bad manners when Babcock says it to Corrado.

Look, Corrado’s actual beef with Babcock is rooted in his playing time with the Leafs, not words exchanged while slurping egg nog. Basically, Babs instructed him to sit in the press box and munch popcorn while the more skilled guys were in frolic on the freeze.

“The coach is the one who makes the lineup and if the coach doesn’t like you, then you’re not going to play,” he boo-hooed in December 2016.

(I suppose the coaches in Vancouver and Pittsburgh didn’t like Corrado, either, because they mostly had him munching popcorn, too. In sum, he suited up for 76 games across six NHL seasons, and played out the string with seven games in Latvia, where the popcorn probably isn’t as good.)

Guys like Johan Franzen and Mitch Marner, on the other hand, have expressed legitimate gripes about Babcock’s bad bedside manner.

L’Affaire Phone Flap is an inglorious finish to Babcock’s NHL coaching career. He’s been tarred and feathered for past trespasses in the court of public opinion, and judged guilty by former players who hold hard to the notion that he didn’t stroke their egos sufficiently. He won’t rise from these ashes, not in the NHL.

So now Quenneville and Bowman know what they can expect if they receive the okie-dokie to return from NHL commissioner Gary Bettman. They’ll be observed like lab rats. Former players might tell tales, true or false. Nothing less than sainthood will be sufficient in their quest to remain employed.

Is that something they want to sign up for? Probably.

According to GM Kevin Cheveldayoff, the Winnipeg Jets will be operating with “new purpose” this NHL season. Just curious: What was the old purpose?

The first thing I noticed while looking at the Edmonton Elks-Saskatchewan Flatlanders on my flatscreen Friday night was the swath of unoccupied seats in Mosaic Stadium. Turns out the head count was 25,304 (announced), the lowest gathering this season and the worst since July 24 last year. So why did the Resident Keith Urban Groupie in the TSN blab booth feel obliged to advise us that there was “a great crowd” at the Regina ballyard? Does Glen Suitor not realize that we can see all those empty green chairs on our flatscreens, or has lying to us become a routine part of the CFL on TSN script?

The Resident Keith Urban Groupie also informed us that Flatlanders QB Jake Dolegala heaved one pass “75 or 80 yards.” No. The football travelled 61 yards.

I found this interesting in a negative way: During the pre-game natter at the Hall of Fame Game in The Hammer on Saturday, CFL on TSN panel host Kate Beirness saluted every newly minted inductee to the Canadian Football Hall of Fame except one—Vicki Hall, the first female reporter to gain entry into the media wing. She then doubled down on the snub at halftime. I guess it only counts if you’re a guy and work for TSN. Purely shameful, Kate.

So, the Canadian men’s curling championship, more commonly known as the Brier, has a new title sponsor, Montana’s BBQ & Bar. That loud noise you just heard was Ben Hebert licking his lips. Benny, of course, is one of the planet’s elite and funniest Pebble People, and I’m guessing he hasn’t missed too many meals over the years. “I’ve never been one to shy away from a Montana’s steak,” he confirmed at the big announcement in Regina on Friday.

The Brier sponsorship has moved from a tobacco company to a beer company to a communications company to a donut shop and now a cookhouse. Put them all together and you could eat, drink, smoke and call a cab on your mobile phone if you had too many Labatt Blue in the Brier Patch.

The American sports media is overdosing on Deion Sanders. Is there a 12-step program to fix that?

Things that make me go hmmm, Vol. 2,159: Some among the rabble are disjointed because a couple of men have been hired to generally manage Professional Women’s Hockey League outfits, and there are also three male head coaches. Hmmm. I must have missed the memo that said the PWHL is a female-only club. I mean, when did PMS become a job requirement? NHL outfits are no longer shy about hiring female assistant GMs (e.g. Cammi Granato and Emilie Castonguay with the Vancouver Canucks), coaches, scouts and player development personnel, so it follows that the PWHL wouldn’t hesitate to bring qualified men on board in Ponytail Puck. My oh my, the things we get twitchy about these days.

It needs to be said: The PWHL website is gawdawful. Absolutely dreadful.

All six PWHL franchises remain teams to be named later, so let’s give Billie Jean King and her ownership partners some help:
The Toronto Maple Beliebers.
The Ottawa Filibuster.
The Montreal Cathedral.
The Twin Cities Doppelgangers.
The Boston Midnight Ride.
The New York Minute.

Nice to see Island Girl Micah Zandee-Hart sign with New York in the PWHL. We still don’t know where the franchise will set up shop, but if it’s in spitting distance of Gotham she’s in for culture shock. Micah, you see, is from beautiful and cozy Brentwood Bay, north of Victoria on the Saanich Peninsula. Population: 17,385. There are that many pickpockets on a Times Square street corner.

I’ll say this for the Vancouver Canucks: They sure know how to do bland. I mean, they could have waited until their home opener vs. the Edmonton McDavids on Oct. 11 for the coronation of the franchise’s 15th captain, using all the bells and whistles available at Rogers Arena. But no. They chose to go unplugged. They simply propped up the Anointed One, young defenceman Quinn Hughes, in front of a coterie of news snoops who spoke in respectful tones while documenting his respectful sound bites for a few ticks under 20 minutes. No applause, no fanfare. No fuss, no muss. It had all the pomp and pageantry of a trip to the corner store. It was as if they were introducing the newest hot dog vendor. It couldn’t have been more low key if a street mime had made the announcement. But, hey, it’s the laid-back, Left Coast way of doing things, which, we’re told, dovetails nicely with Hughes’ personality. So, ya, make the guy they call Huggy Bear available for a natter with anyone holding a recording device, then do the photo-op thing to show the rabble the nifty new needlework on his jersey. That way all sideshows are struck from the to-do list by the time the Canucks storm the shores of Vancouver Island and commence training exercises in Victoria four days hence. Works for me.

If you’re keeping score at home, Donnie and Dhali The Team took the pulse of the people not long after the Hughes appointment, and a large majority (88.1 per cent of 1,930) gave the Anointed One their official okie-dokie.

I get a kick out of Donnie and Dhali, otherwise known as Don Taylor and Rick Dhaliwal. Guaranteed at some point during their two-hour gum-flapper (Monday-Friday, CHEK TV) they’ll make me laugh, especially Rick, who’s apparently convinced that everyone in sports is a “good guy, GOOD GUY!” Taylor, meanwhile, is fond of playing the “old man shouting at clouds” role and talking about “back in the day,” which could mean anywhere from the turn of the century to Gordie Howe’s teenage years. Some days you’d swear Joe Kapp and Nub Beamer are still on the B.C. Leos roster, but that’s okay. I like back in the day, too, and I can dial it back as far as Donnie. Farther actually. What I like most about Taylor and Dhaliwal is their high goofability quotient. They recognize they’re talking sports, not trying to stop the great glacial melt, even if they sometimes detour into a non-jock issue. They’re off-the-wall fun, and we can use more of that in jock journalism.

Donnie & Dhali wonder why neither of our national sports networks gave the just-concluded Mann Cup championship series between Six Nations Chiefs and New Westminster Salmonbellies the time of day. Simple answer: No player on either outfit is named Auston Matthews, Mitch Marner or Willy Nylander. Cheekiness aside, it’s not like lacrosse is the only sport TSN and Sportsnet put on ignore. We see scads of highlights from NCAA football every weekend, but scarcely a mention of USports grass-grabbers. Our university gridirons stretch from the Pacific to the Atlantic. There are 27 teams. Twelve games were on the docket this weekend. But I guess if there’s no FanDuel betting line neither TSN nor Sportsnet gives much of a damn.

And, finally, caught SportsCentre on TSN during the small hours of Tuesday and noted that the first 14 minutes of the show were devoted exclusively to Aaron Rodgers’ owie, suffered in the New York Jets-Buffalo Bills skirmish. Then there was an additional segment, for the grand sum of 23 minutes in the initial half hour. I’m not sure the Second Coming will get that much attention. Unless, of course, Christ arrives in a Toronto Maple Leafs jersey.