About the Rink Rat Scheifele feel-good story…pass the broccoli but hold the mushrooms…Hitch is Mr. McGrumpy after the “mauling” of Connor McDavid…wah, wah, wah in Edmonton…a tough day at the office for Kerri Einarson…and other things on my mind

Monday morning coming down in 3, 2, 1…because Mark Scheifele and the Jets keep working overtime, I will too…

The thing about Rink Rat Scheifele is that he’s already one of those cool “Remember when?” stories.

As in:

• Remember when the Winnipeg Jets chose him seventh overall in the National Hockey League’s annual auction of freshly scrubbed teenagers and most folks said, “Huh? Who’s he?”

• Remember when he initially arrived in River City and took more tumbles than a load of laundry? Clumsy? Bambi was Tessa Virtue compared to this kid. If he stayed vertical for more than 15 seconds, someone would alert the media and there’d be film at 11.

• Remember when he was so scrawny he could have qualified as poster boy for a UNICEF famine relief campaign? I’ve seen more flesh on a Christmas turkey wishbone. He rattled like a pair of dice when he walked.

But just look at nice guy Scheifele now.

Chevy and the Rink Rat were all smiles in 2011.

You need a goal in OT? Who you gonna call? Mark Scheifele. He did it twice in three days, in two different cities. He’s done it three times this month. He’s fifth in NHL scoring, just 10 points out of the lead and three in arrears of Connor McFabulous in Edmonton.

It’s kind of a rags-to-riches story when you consider they didn’t even have a team jersey for Rink Rat to wear on stage the day general manager Kevin Cheveldayoff plucked him in the entry draft. Remember, les Jets were a team with no name ahead of the 2011 teenage rummage sale, so why not pick a no-name player, right? And drape him in an NHL sweater, just to add a touch of humility to the moment.

Not that the hockey nerd from the Barrie Colts seemed to mind. He beamed, his smile measured in megawatts. Ditto Chevy, who cared little that many observers considered his selection of Scheifele to be something of a head-scratcher.

Turns out les Jets scouts knew exactly what they were doing. And it’s a terrific, feel-good story about a guy who, by all accounts, is the sort you hope your daughter brings home for dinner.

Rink Rat Scheifele

If you kids out there want to grow up to be just like Mark Scheifele, eat your veggies. But you can pass on the mushrooms. “That’s the only vegetable I don’t eat,” the fitness freak told GQ magazine last summer. “Other than that, I am good with anything. If you put a mushroom in front of my face, I will not go anywhere near it. If I’m in a restaurant, I’ll tell them to hold the mushrooms. I don’t want mushrooms on any of my food at all.” But bring on the broccoli!

The biggest surprise in the NHL standings this year? Five Pacific Division outfits currently are in playoff positions. Who saw that coming? No one. The big dogs of the Western Conference are supposed to be in the Central Division, but the St. Louis Blues and Dallas Stars are major disappointments. Bruce Boudreau, meanwhile, will be the next head coach looking for work if his Minnesota Wild don’t get it together.

I’ve always been a Bryan Little fan, but I still say les Jets will need a guy like Paul Stastny once it’s crunch time (read: the Stanley Cup tournament). That and an upgrade on left defence. I fully expect Chevy to tinker with his roster before the trade deadline.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t believe the Calgary Flames are for real. I’m not sold on their goaltending. Just saying.

Alexander Ovechkin: Still the Gr8t 8.

Something tells me Bruce Arthur of the Toronto Star might like a do-over on his “Auston Matthews is the greatest goal-scorer in the world” column. Every time I check the leaders in the chase for the Rocket Richard Trophy, that Gr8t 8 guy in Washington is atop the chart. I suppose if Matthews could stay out of the repair shop he might challenge Alexander Ovechkin, but until then any suggestion that he’s the planet’s premier sniper is pure propaganda from the Republic of Tranna.

Hitch is McGrumpy.

Apparently Connor McDavid has become Connor McMugged, and that’s made Edmonton Oilers head coach Ken Hitchcock a Mr. McGrumpy. After his lads dropped a 4-2 verdict to the Canucks in Vancouver on Sunday night, Hitch went all squawk-a-lot about the guys in striped shirts:

“The stuff that really bothers me is what is happening to Connor, and that really bothers me because we’re in a league that is supposed to showcase our top players, and you don’t want to give them all the freedom, but the tug of war on him was absolutely ridiculous today,” said Hitchcock.

“And that’s a little bit discouraging to be honest with you. Because I can see the whackin’ and hackin’ going on when he’s got the puck, but to me it’s all the stuff behind that doesn’t allow him to showcase his speed. And if that’s what we want, well, that’s fine. But I think it’s a real disservice to a player like him. He’s not allowed to play give-and-go. It’s give-and-hold. So we’re going to have to figure out a way to fight through it. We’ll just play toughness with him and figure it out from there.”

Can’t fault Hitchcock for spouting off, but, let’s face it, it’s nothing more than mind games. He’s looking for an edge, as if McDavid needs it.

Connor McDavid: Too much hooking and hacking.

In the boo hoo, cry me a river department, I present Postmedia Edmonton scribe David Staples, who, in an exercise of blatant homerism, cranked up the wah-wah-wah machine and eagerly provided the backup vocals for the Hitchcock lament.

“Hitchcock has now made clear the truth of the matter, making comments that should embarrass the refs for their slack work and the National Hockey League for allowing its greatest star(s) to get repeatedly mugged,” Staples wrote about the “mauling” of McDavid. “I hope ears are burning at NHL head office. They should be.

“If you think my own comments are the self-indulgent whining of an Oilers fan, you are correct. But what of it? Because I’m mad that the hometown hero gets a bad shake from the refs doesn’t mean Hitchcock isn’t right. He is right. McDavid gets mugged repeatedly and the NHL doesn’t do anything much about it. It’s a bad joke. This isn’t a league for superstars to shine, it’s a league for hookers, holders and hackers to slow down those superstars and to thwart them with the complicity of incompetent refs.

“Wayne Gretzky never hesitated to blast the officials. Some folks called him a whiner, but I call him a winner. Glen Sather was a master of getting under everyone’s skin, be it opposing coaches, players, the league or the refs. It’s time the Oilers stood up for themselves verbally. Why? Because it works. Calling out rubbish for what it is has an impact.”

Wow. Take a pill, man. Maybe have some mushrooms.

The TSN World Junior Hockey Championship will be coming to a rink exactly two blocks from my humble home next week. I can hardly wait to see that big Kazakhstan-Slovakia showdown.

Briane Meilleur, Shannon Birchard, Val Sweeting, Kerri Einarson.

Talk about your bad days at the office. What Kerri Einarson endured in the women’s final of the National curling tournament in Conception Bay South, N.L., on Sunday wasn’t pretty. It was painful to watch. The Manitoba skip did a lot of wincing, but not much shot-making, and finished at just 54 per cent in a 4-1 loss to Rachel Homan. Not to worry, though. The Pebble People are done for the year, so Kerri and her all-skip team of Val Sweeting, Shannon Birchard and Briane Meilleur can enjoy their Christmas turkey and have ample time to regroup. They’ll be the ladies to beat at the Toba Scotties late next month in Gimli.

And, finally, the Winnipeg Sun sports section on Sunday: 13 pages, 1 local story. Sad. The Sun sports section this morning: 15 pages, 1 local story. Really sad.

Winnipeg Blue Bombers: Bye week with the braintrust

We now take you inside the Winnipeg Blue Bombers bunker at Football Follies Field in Fort Garry, where the team braintrust—CEO Wade Miller, general manager Kyle Walters and head coach Mike O’Shea—are using a bye week to review their first eight games and plot strategy for the back half of the Canadian Football League crusade…

O’SHEA: “I don’t know about you, Kyle, but I feel like we’ve dodged a bullet.”

WALTERS: “We? We didn’t dodge anything. It was your ass on the line, not mine. Wade and I already had you blindfolded, lit you a cigarette and had you standing against a wall. One more loss and…let’s just say it’s a good thing for you that Wade ordered me to order you to start Matt Nichols at quarterback and put Drew Willy in the dumpster when we were 1-4. Ain’t that right, Wade? ”

The Blue Bombers’ three wise men: Mike O’Shea, Kyle Walters, Wade Miller.

O’SHEA: “Ya, I guess we were wrong about Willy.”

WALTERS: “We? We weren’t wrong about anything, Mike. Wade and I wanted Nichols to start at QB right from the get-go. Right outta training camp. But oooooh no. You had to have it your way. I swear, you’re as mule-headed as Wade is round. If we’d let you have it your way, Willy’d still be the starting quarterback and we’d be 1-7 instead of 4-4. Actually, you’d be outta Dodge and the old sheriff would be the new sheriff in town. Ain’t that right, Wade?”

O’SHEA: “You telling me that Paul LaPolice is here as offensive coordinator just so you have someone to step in if I screw up?”

WALTERS: “Do the math, Mike.”

O’SHEA: “Ya, let’s do some math. Now that we’ve got this thing turned around and won our last three games, maybe it’s time we talked numbers. Like numbers on a new contract. I’m what those annoying media people call—quote-unquote—a lame-duck coach, ’cause I’m on the last year of my contract. You’re good to go until the end of 2017, so what about me?”

WALTERS: “What you just said is the very reason we can’t give you a contract extension—I’m good to go only until the end of next year. That’s it. There’s no guarantee that Wade’s gonna keep me around after 2017. Maybe he’s already got someone in mind to replace me. Someone like Eric Tillman. So, again, do the math, Mike. Until I get an extension, you don’t get one. Besides, we’re not convinced you’ve turned this thing around. How do we know you won’t go back to Willy at the first sign of trouble? When Wade ordered me to order you to name Nichols the starting quarterback, you told the media that we hadn’t seen the last of Drew Willy. That he’d be back.”

O’SHEA: “The day I start Willy at quarterback again is the day I stop wearing my creepy short pants on the sideline. I’ve seen enough film to know that Matt Nichols is my main man.”

WALTERS: “Trust us, Mike, there’s only one way you’ll ever, ever, ever start Drew Willy at QB again—if Matt is in the hospital and there’s a priest beside his bed. It ain’t gonna happen. Meanwhile, it’s about those shorts of yours. What’s up with that?”

O’SHEA: “Did you bring me here to win football games or to get on the cover of GQ magazine?”

WALTERS: “Well, until recently, you and your short pants weren’t doing either one of those things. You’re 16-28!”

O’SHEA: “Ya, and you’re 18-38 in long pants! So what’s your point?”

Matt Nichols

WALTERS: “I guess my point should be that neither of us belongs on the cover of GQ and both of us are lucky that we can still afford to buy a new pair of pants, short or long. Most teams would have fired both of our sorry asses by now. I mean, I’m 18-38. You’re 16-28. What part of pathetic does the board of directors not understand?”

O’SHEA: “I think maybe Wade has ’em hoodwinked. He scares ’em. Or maybe he’s got incriminating pictures, or something. That’s gotta be it.”

WALTERS: “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you don’t screw this thing up by doing something stupid the rest of the way, like sending Clarence Denmark home to sit on a couch in Florida again.”

O’SHEA: “I didn’t get rid of Clarence in the first place. You released him in the off-season.”

WALTERS: “Ya, because after I spent all that money on Weston Dressler and Ryan Smith, I couldn’t afford to pay Clarence anymore. But now that he’s back and making mice nuts for a wage, he’s a keeper.”

O’SHEA: “And what do I do with Dressler and Smith once they’re healthy? I can’t have my highest-paid receivers standing on the sidelines.”

WALTERS: “Why not? You’ve got a $400,000 quarterback holding a clipboard on the sidelines. You’re winning without him. And you’re winning without Dressler and Smith and all the other high-priced starters who’ve been injured. What does that tell you?”

O’SHEA: “It tells me that you have spent a lot of money foolishly. Ain’t that right, Wade?”

Patti Dawn Swansson has been writing about Winnipeg sports for 46 years, longer than any living being. Do not, however, assume that to mean she harbors a wealth of sports knowledge or that she’s a jock journalist of award-winning loft. It simply means she is old and comfortable at a keyboard (although arthritic fingers sometimes make typing a bit of a chore) and she apparently doesn’t know when to quit. Or she can’t quit.
She is most proud of her Q Award, presented in 2012 for her scribblings about the LGBT community in Victoria, B.C., and her induction into the Manitoba Sportswriters & Sportscasters Association Media Roll of Honour in 2015.