I hope Gary Bettman doesn’t think he’s fooling anyone.
I mean, he’s a smart guy, probably too bright to believe he’s pulling the wool over our eyes with his ban on all specialty warmup jerseys for National Hockey League theme nights. But on the off-chance that he figures he’s bamboozled the rabble, I’d suggest that most of us in the LGBT(etc.) community know what’s really going on here.
It is an anti-gay gambit, an astonishing example of blatant bigotry.
It has nothing to do with the military. It has nothing to do with Blacks or Indigenous peoples. It has nothing to do with battling cancer. It has nothing to do with St. Paddy’s Day. It has nothing to do with any of the NHL’s other theme events.
It has everything to do with the Rainbow. Pride. The LGBT(etc.) community.
It has everything to do with kowtowing to a minority of seven, that being the number of front-line employees who, during the just-concluded NHL crusade, refused to support a marginalized collective under increasing and systemic attack. That’s seven out of 700-plus on-ice personnel.
A “distraction” is how NHL commissioner Bettman described the now-abolished practice of players wrapping themselves in one of the unique, also quite creative, theme-night uni tops.
Funny thing about that, though: None of it was a “distraction” until people noticed Ivan Provorov of the Philly Flyers hiding behind his Bible one night in January.
Rather than slip on a Pride jersey and join his playmates in pregame exercises, the Russian Orthodox rearguard remained in the changing room, no doubt biding time by thumbing through Matthew, Mark, Luke and John in search of confirmation that Jesus Christ really did feed 5,000 followers with five loaves of bread and two fish. (And, of course, they all washed it down with the water that he’d turned into wine.)
As it turned out, Provorov was playing Pied Piper to another six players, some of whom also leaned on scripture as a way out of participating in Pride Night. Others cited dire consequences, like a lifetime in the gulag for themselves and/or their families back home in Russia if war-mongering, anti-gay Czar Vlad Putin caught wind of them wearing anything resembling a rainbow.
But Commish Gary, acknowledging the Rainbow Resistance Movement, has now spared the anti-gay constituency any additional discomfort and exhaustive Bible thumping.
“I’ve suggested that it would be appropriate for clubs not to change their jerseys in warmups because it’s become a distraction and taking away from the fact that all of our clubs in some form or another host nights in honour of various groups or causes, and we’d rather them continue to get the appropriate attention that they deserve and not be a distraction,” Bettman said in a natter with Elliotte Friedman of Sportsnet.
“In the final analysis, all of the emphasis and efforts on the importance of these various causes have been undermined by the distraction of which teams, which players (chose not to wear the jerseys), this way we’re keeping the focus on the game and on these specialty nights we’re going to be focused on the cause.”
So to hell with them all. Everyone shall pay for the sins of the seven.
But remind me. Where have we heard that dirty word “distraction” before, as it relates to gays in major men’s sports?
Oh, I remember now. It was NBC squawk box and hall-of-fame coach Tony Dungy, known far and wide for his anti-gay rhetoric and campaigning to deny gays basic human rights. You know, like marriage. Dungy suggested that the very existence of an openly gay football player, Michael Sam, would become a “distraction” for the St. Louis Rams.
“I wouldn’t have (drafted Sam),” Dungy told The Tampa Tribune in 2014. “Not because I don’t believe Michael Sam should have a chance to play, but I wouldn’t want to deal with all of it. It’s not going to be totally smooth…things will happen.”
Ya, “things” like those pesky news snoops wanting to turn the National Football League’s first openly gay guy into a sideshow. They wanted to talk to him. To probe. At least one insisted on discussing shower arrangements in the Rams changing room. Hell, even Oprah wanted in on the act (not the showering but the sideshow).
Well, of course Sam was bound to be a “distraction.” And, what, Aaron Rodgers with his wackadoo notions about hallucinogenic drugs and spending a weekend in complete isolation and darkness isn’t? The New York Jets QB is a one-man three-ring circus. Let me know the next time Rodgers goes a week without doing something off-the-wall and I’ll alert the media. Film at 11.
I can think of another athlete who was a “distraction.” That’s right. Jackie Robinson, a Black man in a purely white man’s world.
Jackie was such a “distraction” from 1947 to ’56 that the Brooklyn Dodgers only won the National League pennant six times and the World Series once. His six all-star selections and rookie-of-the-year/MVP awards were also quite a “distraction.” Hell, Robinson is still a “distraction.” Every player, coach and manager in Major League Baseball is required to wear his uniform No. 42 every April 15.
Black guys in baseball stopped being a “distraction” about the same time the Dodgers won the ’55 World Series, and gay guys on the gridiron stopped being a “distraction” the moment Carl Nassib proved he could strip sack a QB, just like the straight guys.
But I digress.
We were discussing Gary Bettman and his rainbow ban.
Commish Gary didn’t want Pride jerseys to be a “distraction,” so what does he do? He makes it a “distraction” by shutting down 700-plus players who want to support the LGBT(etc.) community. It’s an ass-backwards directive, also poorly timed given that this is Pride Month, and it totally debunks the NHL’s Trademark Big Lie of “Hockey is for Everyone.”
For his next trick, Commish Gary will reinstate the disgraced Joel Quenneville and Stan Bowman, both of whom looked the other way when one of their players, Kyle Beach, was sexually assaulted by a Chicago Blackhawks male coach. He’ll explain the resurrection of their NHL careers in lawyer-speak, and he won’t even bother holding his nose to ward off the stench.
But that’s the NHL way: Out with the rainbow, in with the rot.
From the archives, March 19, 2023: “I think we all know where this thing is headed: Pride nights will remain on team calendars, but players no longer will be paraded in rainbow-themed warmup garb. Thus, anti-gay players on NHL rosters (I like to think they’re in the minority) won’t be required to hide behind the Bible anymore. They can keep their religion and anti-gay bias on the QT. Sigh.” And so it has come to pass.
Here’s a question worth a moment of ponder: Why is it that gays are a “distraction” in male sports, but not in the female portion of the playground? There’s yet to be an “out” player in the NHL—while active or after the cheering stopped—yet there is an abundance of gay players at the elite level of women’s hockey, many of them Olympic and world champions. In fact one of those lesbians, Caroline Ouellette, just the other day was named an inductee to the Hockey Hall of Fame, where she’ll join other gays Angela James, Jayna Hefford and Angela Ruggiero.
A guy named Max Park recently set a record for solving a Rubik’s Cube at an event in Long Beach, Calif. His time: 3.13 seconds. If you think that’s quick, wait till you see Chicago Blackhawks GM Kyle Davidson race to the podium to shout out Connor Bedard’s name at the NHL Entry Draft on Wednesday.
Yikes. I turned on the flatscreen to watch some Rouge Football the other night and a horror film broke out. I mean, B.C. Leos 30, Winnipeg Blue Bombers 6? That’s Boris Karloff, Bela Lugosi and Vincent Price kind of scary, kids. Zach Collaros wasn’t a quarterback, he was a pinata. How bad was the Bombers O-line? Let’s just say the large lads won’t be getting a call from the U.S. Secret Service to work the presidential detail. Lincoln had better protection. Meantime, there was so much space between the Leos receivers and the guys in the Bombers D-backfield that I thought social distancing was back in vogue. And those penalties! We haven’t seen that many flags in Good O’ Hometown since the 1999 Pan-American Games. So whoever stole the real Bombers, please bring them back. No questions will be asked.
This from TSN’s Dave Naylor on Toronto Argos QB Chad Kelly: “Excuse the perspective from the Centre of the Universe. But no matter your vantage point, it should be clear that Toronto Argonauts quarterback Chad Kelly is the most important player in the Canadian Football League right now. Not the best, at least not yet. Just the most important. And it’s really not that close. As much as fans across Canada may not like it, Toronto matters. The prospect of having a lively and substantially full BMO Field nine times a season—whether that’s experienced in person or on television—versus scads of empty seats, matters.” The Argos mattered to just 15,967 people in the Republic of Tranna last weekend. I guess the 11,489 empty chairs didn’t think Chad Kelly was important enough to matter.
From the archives, Nov. 20, 2022: “So, the Hamilton Tabbies have surrendered two draft picks and future goodies for the privilege of pitching woo to Bo Levi Mitchell, the Calgary Stampeders defrocked QB. But wait. Bo says he’ll lend an ear to all other suitors before agreeing to pitch his tent in The Hammer. Fine. Wherever and whenever he lands, it’s a matter of Buyer Beware. This isn’t Cadillac Showroom Bo. It’s more like Used Car Lot Bo. Teams will have to be cautious when they kick the tires, because something might fall off.” And so it has come to pass. Two Ls and zero Ws into his life in black-and-gold, Bo landed in sick bay with an owie below the waist and was unavailable for his third start (also a loss), and I have to think the Tabbies might be wondering why they agreed to spend half a million bucks on a guy who’s become as brittle as a piece of burnt toast.
I’m sorry, but the new-look CFL stats pages are a complete gong show. Not to worry, though. Commish Randy Ambrosie assures us that software designers Larry, Curly and Moe will have it up and running long before the Tabbies actually win a game.
According to the U.S. Geological Survey, New York is sinking. Geez, I didn’t think the Yankees were having that bad a season.
Things that make me go hmmm, Vol. 2,158: For those of you keeping score at home, former U.S. President Donald Trump claims he’s had seven holes-in-one in his life. “Legitimately,” he says. Hmmm. Maybe Trump is confusing his aces with his legitimate and illegitimate kids.
What’s the difference between a “legitimate” and an “illegitimate” hole-in-one? You use a golf club and Trump uses a pencil.
I’m not sure what it is with politicians and fairy tale golf. I mean, Trump says he’s had seven aces and former North Korean leader Kim Jong-Il is said to have scored five aces in the only round of golf he ever played, at age 52. As the fable goes, Kim didn’t card worse than a birdie on any hole on the 7,700-yard Pyongyang Golf Course, and no one was anxious to dispute his 38-under-par 34 score. He had 17 witnesses and they all had guns.
Anybody have a problem with the Hockey Hall of Fame Class of 2023? I imagine there’s a bit of quibble about one or two of the seven inductees—Henrik Lundstrom, Mike Vernon, Tom Barrasso, Pierre Turgeon, Caroline Ouellette, Ken Hitchcock and Pierre Lacroix—and it’s not wrong to wonder about the Mogilny Mystery. I mean, Alexander Mogilny’s bona fides are dazzling: World Junior, World, Olympic and Stanley Cup champion; a 76-goal season; better than a point-a-game guy in more than 990 NHL skirmishes. So where’s the beef? What is it about Mogilny that turns off the 18-person selection committee that has given him the cold shoulder since 2009? Certainly it can’t be because of his birth certificate. I mean, unless they’ve discovered that he’s been helping Vlad Putin lob bombs at Ukraine or sending gays to the gulag, being born in Russia can’t be an impediment. I’d suggest he peed on someone’s Corn Flakes, but since the methodology of the Hockey Hall’s Chosen 18 is less transparent than a jar of peanut butter, how could he possibly know whose Corn Flakes to pee on?
Assuming Mogilny cares about induction into the Hockey Hall, it must be extremely hurtful to be snubbed for so long, especially since he has no way of knowing why he’s still on the outside with his nose pressed against a window. If it isn’t his nationality, did he put other noses out of joint? Is that the determining factor? The right people simply don’t like him? Sorry, but that isn’t a good enough reason. Mogilny delivered the goods, and personal pettiness should have no bearing on the worthiness of a candidate for induction into a hall of fame. Seriously. You don’t like the way someone combs their hair or the color of their skin or their place of worship or their gender so you leave them standing in the cold? Rubbish.
On the subject of gender, the Chosen 18 are permitted to induct two (maximum) female players each year. Caroline Ouellette got the call last week, but you can’t convince me no one else is worthy. Like our own Jennifer Botterill, who collected gold medals the way kids used to collect bubble gum cards. Or Caroline’s wife, Julie Chu.
And, finally, thousands of people went to Stonehenge to watch the sun rise on June 21, the Summer Solstice. How poetic. I mean, those same people can make the short trip from Stonehenge to Wimbledon and watch the sun set on Venus Williams’ tennis career next month.
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The River City Renegade 
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