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 Patrik Laine the happy camper…Puck Finn still playing second fiddle…pooping and the puckstopper…glorifying goon hockey on Sportsnet…brain farts and tripe-bogeys…Ponytail Puck set for a faceoff in Lake Placid…and other things on my mind

Another Sunday smorgas-bored…and you’re advised to read this blog with an abundance of caution…

Kevin Cheveldayoff and Puck Pontiff Mark Chipman have one task. Just one: Put a happy face on Patrik Laine.

Do whatever it takes.

If that means putting Puck Finn first in the pay queue, back up the Brinks truck. If he wants to skate alongside Rink Rat Scheifele, tell Paul Maurice to join them at the hip. If he wants to challenge Twig Ehlers to a rousing game of Fortnite between shifts, set up a PlayStation gizmo at the end of the bench.

Just get it done.

Unless, of course, it’s irreparably undone

Maybe there’s no longer a way for Chevy and the Puck Pontiff to sell Laine on the merits of Winnipeg and the Jets. Maybe the Tour de Finn we witnessed last Thursday night at the Little Hockey House On The Prairie—two goals, OT winner, one assist, one scuffle in a 4-3 victory over the Calgary Flames—was a prelude to what the faithful will be missing once the big winger swans off down the road.

Whatever the case, this is a crossroads moment for the Winnipeg franchise.

Chevy and the Puck Pontiff

Make no mistake, short of a Stanley Cup parade, how Chevy and team co-bankroll Chipman handle L’Affaire Laine will be the defining moment for the tallest thinkers in the National Hockey League’s smallest market, and time is already an adversary.

Puck Finn is a restricted free agent this summer, and if he and Chevy/Puck Pontiff can’t find common financial ground, an arbitrator will do it for them and that’s an exercise that seldom lends itself to warm-and-fuzzy pillow talk. Laine will listen while someone in an expensive suit informs him of his many misgivings, at the same time emphasizing that his goal totals (36, 44, 30, 28) are already in decline. And whatever he delivers this season will be dismissed as the sketchy product of a runted crusade due to the COVID-19 pandemic.

If the kid wants out now, imagine how he’ll feel after hearing from a team rep that he’s barely a beer-leaguer, so I’m assuming that’s a path the Jets aren’t anxious to travel.

In the meantime, pundits hither and yon continue to laud Chevy for the deliberate, slow-moving manner in which he generally manages the Jets.

And it’s true. Chevy has the patience of a man who genuinely believes the cheque is in the mail.

Players march into his office and inform him they desire a new postal code, or an agent beaks off to news snoops about a client’s dissatisfaction and the need for a fresh start, but Chevy doesn’t flinch. His knees never jerk. Oh, they might twitch a mite, but not so you’d notice.

He waits and waits and waits, patiently, refusing to be bullied.

But then someone tosses a track suit into a tub of ice water and Chevy budges, recognizing he has no option but to tell a 30-goal scorer to leave the building. Evander Kane is then shuffled off to Buffalo. Similarly, Chevy took a measured tactic with Jacob Trouba, not moving his top-pair defender to Gotham until the free-agency clock was soon to strike midnight.

Now we have the only GM in Jets 2.0 history confronted with the stiffest challenge of his watch, and all I can see is Chevy standing in a corner with a can of paint and a brush, looking for a way out.

And that’s not to ignore Jack Roslovic’s pout.

Chevy’s allowing Roslovic to rot at home in Columbus, with no inclination toward granting his young forward’s wish for opportunity elsewhere. Chevy can move him on a whim, on his terms and on his timetable, and the longer the Roslovic Rot lasts the more likely it is that he becomes a forgotten man. Few among the faithful will be bent out of shape at the loss of a player who might fit in as a top-six forward in other colors, but not in Jets linen.

It’s different with Laine.

Puck Finn is their signature selection through a decade of draft-and-develop. He’s a star performer, a game-changer who, were he to commit long term, would become the face of the franchise.

Chevy and the Puck Pontiff are already 0-for-2 with young studs who’ve demanded a one-way ticket out of Dodge, and Laine’s performance v. the Flames was a not-so-subtle hint that they should move mountains to prevent it from being 0-for-3.

What will it take to put a happy face on Puck Finn? None of us knows. But, surely, Chevy and the Puck Pontiff have an idea, and that begs one question: Why aren’t they doing it?

Puck Finn

Got a giggle out of pundits suggesting Laine’s show-stopper v. the Flames snuffed out swap talk. “Laine silences the trade rumors” and “Laine mutes trade talk for now” were the headlines in the Winnipeg Sun. Ya, good luck with that. If anything, it ramped up speculation. I mean, what was Eric Duhatschek scribbling about in The Athletic the following morning? That’s right, a potential Laine trade. What were Gino Reda and Craig Button nattering about on TSN two days later? That’s right, a potential Laine trade. What were David Amber and Brian Burke prattling on about on Hockey Night in Canada last night? That’s right, a potential Laine trade. Trust me, L’Affaire Laine will linger until one of two things happens: 1) Puck Finn commits to Good Ol’ Hometown for the long haul; 2) Chevy and the Puck Pontiff tell him to pack his bags. I’m still betting on the latter scenario—and we’ll know for certain if he signs another bridge deal this summer—so don’t expect the whispers to go away anytime soon.

So, you’re Paul Maurice, the Jets potty-mouth head coach. You have a 22-year-old right-winger, Laine, who shredded the Flames, and you have a 34-year-old right winger, Blake Wheeler, who’s doing his best to keep up with the pace of play. Who you gonna call on? I agree, it should be Laine. But Coach PottyMo still had Puck Finn playing second fiddle to the aging Wheeler, on the ice for a whopping 21:27, including 4:50 on the powerplay, in the opener. Laine was limited to 16:20 and 2:53. Any wonder why Puck Finn’s agents believe it would be “mutually beneficial” for him to move on? Curses to you, Coach Potty Mouth.

Took a dive into James Duthie’s book Beauties last week, and I was giggling four paragraphs into Roberto Luongo’s forward, whereby the former Vancouver Canucks goaltender describes an in-game bout of poopy pants. “I never get stomach aches during a game,” he writes. “Before the game is a different story. I go to the bathroom five times on game day. I’m talking number two here. I may have been a number one goalie most of my career, but I’m all about number two on game days. I go once in the morning when I get up, once at the morning skate, once after I wake up from my nap, once after the pre-game meeting, and once after warm-up, just in case. I don’t want any accidents during the game. It’s a skill. The guys on my team all know about it. They see my big-ass toes sticking out from under the stall door and say, ‘Lui’s goin’ again.’” That probably falls under the category ‘too much information,’ but Luongo goes on to explain missing the start of overtime in a playoff series v. Anaheim due to the runs, and it’s more than a one-yuk-per-page read. I’m 68 pages into the book and only the Paul Bissonnette yarn is a yawn. Overall, a highly recommended read.

The more things change, the more things stay the same. An example would be Anthony Stewart’s analysis of last week’s Montreal Canadiens-Toronto Maple Leafs skirmish on Sportsnet. Stewart, of course, is the least insightful among the natterbugs on Hockey Night In Canada and, like Brian Burke, he tends to glorify goon hockey. Thus it was no surprise to hear him cite Wayne Simmonds as the difference-maker in the Leafs’ 5-4 victory, simply because he exchanged bare knuckles with Ben Chiarot of the Habs. It was 3-1 Montreal when the lads dropped the mitts, and Stewart informed us that the Leafs scored “right after” the tiff. Wrong. The game turned when the Habs took three consecutive penalties and the Leafs scored twice with the man advantage—7½ minutes after the Simmonds scrap. But, hey, why let facts get in the way of a false narrative? Meanwhile, over at TSN, Craig Button was asked what shifted the game toward the Leafs. “Power play,” he said. Two nights later, he added, “the Leafs’ skill bailed them out.” Correct.

The search was on for Bryson DeChambeau’s ball.

So now we know why Bryson DeChambeau was feeling woozy and bombed out at The Masters in November: Brain fart. “The frontal lobe in my brain was working really, really hard,” the bulked-up golfer explains, adding a combination of things “escalated my brain, overworking and just giving out.” And here I thought it was that lost ball and a triple-bogey seven on the third hole at Augusta that made him sick. Silly me.

Interesting that quarterback Aaron Rodgers is among the notables to land a gig as celeb host on Jeopardy! once the Green Bay Packers are finished playing football. Frankly, I’m surprised they didn’t hire ESPN squawker Stephen A. Smith. He believes he has all the answers.

Bill Murray

Speaking of celebrities, the Pebble Beach Pro-Am golf tournament will have no pro-am component this year. Which makes it what? The Pebble Beach Bill Murray Has To Go Somewhere Else To Act Like A Complete Jackass Open?

Quitter James Harden of the Brooklyn Nets described himself as “an elite leader” at his introductory natter with New York news snoops the other day, just scant hours after mailing it in one more time and informing his former Houston Rockets teammates that they’re a bunch of scrubs. Ya, that’s an “elite leader” like Kareem Adbul Jabbar is a jockey.

Montreal Impact of Major League Soccer are now Club de Foot Montreal. Seriously? A soccer side with “club foot” in the name. They might want to send that one back to the marketing department. It’s like a brewery branding its newest product Flat Warm Beer.

On the subject of peddling product, if you’re scoring at home—and I’m sure you aren’t—a Professional Women’s Hockey Players Association team wrapped up a six-game series v. teenage boys in Florida the other day, and they left the Tampa hub with a 2-4 record. All but two games (5-0, 7-2 losses) were competitive, but I fail to see how losing to teenage boys advances the cause of Ponytail Puck.

Speaking of which, Kevin McGran of the Toronto Star found room for Ponytail Puck in his Pucks In Depth notebook on Friday, which is a good thing. If only he wasn’t so thin on facts and short on insight.

“Women’s professional hockey ramps up this month,” he wrote. “The NWHL, with its Toronto expansion team The Six (I like the nickname, but I have been programmed by our Olympians not to root for the NWHL) will play its entire season, playoffs and championship in a bubble in Lake Placid, N.Y., with some games televised (and most streamable if you know how to do that). There’s something coming out of the ashes of the CWHL, with the Professional Women’s Hockey Players Association (which I’m programmed to root for since it’s basically the national teams of Canada and the United States). The women now represent cities, and have big sponsors. So that sounds positive. I believe COVID is getting in the way of their plans, which leads to some confusion. Are they a league? Is it tournament-based? Weekend exhibitions with grassroots ourtreach?”

A few things to peel away here:

1. The National Women’s Hockey League’s Isobel Cup tournament runs from Jan. 23-Feb. 5 in Lake Placid, with the semifinals and final to be broadcast live on NBCSN. Why McGran chose not to share those pertinent details with readers is a mystery.

2. I don’t know if he was writing tongue-in-cheek when admitting he’s been “programmed by our Olympians not to root for the NWHL,” but, if true, shame on them and him. (Given that PWHPA membership spent its first year of existence trash talking the NWHL, I’m guessing it’s true.)

3. The PWHPA and its Dream Gappers emerged from the ashes of the Canadian Women’s Hockey League in 2019, so it’s not new. The makeup is different, in that there are now five hubs—Calgary, the Republic of Tranna, Montreal, New Hampshire, Minnesota—but there’s no “confusion.” It is not a league. The people at Secret Deodorant have diverted a portion of their attention and dollars from smelly armpits to Ponytail Puck, sponsoring a 2021 Dream Gap Tour to the merry tune of $1 million. The plan is a series of six weekend showcase tournaments (dates and sites to be determined), and the players will share prize money and award the Secret Cup to the top team at the conclusion of their barnstorming frolics.

All that information is readily available if you know where to look, or pick up a phone. Mind you, not a word has been posted to the PWHPA website since before Christmas, so a visit there is a waste of time. If you’re interested in all things Ponytail Puck, check out The Ice Garden, the Women’s Hockey Tribune or The Victory Press.

And, finally, nice off-the-beaten-path piece on Kerri Einarson from Jason Bell of the Drab Slab last week. Jason caught up with the reigning Canadian curling champion on the planet’s largest curling rink—Lake Winnipeg—where she and rinkmate Shannon Birchard have been working out the kinks in preparation for defence of their title, Feb. 19-28 in a Calgary bubble.