Let’s talk about a hairball from the Football Reporters of Canada…a newspaper battle in Good Ol’ Hometown…Grey Cup Sunday…three Canucks and a Jet atop NHL scoring…a Torch and a Slurpee…and other things on my mind

It’s another Couch Potato Day at Chez Swansson, listening to Matt and Milt and Bo and trying to tune out Davis and Lapo and Jim B while waiting for the Winnipeg Blue Bombers and Montreal Larks to grab grass at Timbits Field in The Hammer…

Chad Kelly got what he deserved last weekend.

This past Thursday, he got what he didn’t deserve.

Oh, yes, five days after Kelly had coughed up a hairball the size of Lake Ontario, the Football Reporters of Canada coughed up a hairball the size of Lake Superior and anointed the Toronto Argos quarterback the finest performer in Rouge Football.

Embarrassed? Well, football reporters should be, but news snoops are usually only red-faced at closing time.

Come to think of it, perhaps a pub is where most of them filled out their ballots for the Canadian Football League’s year-end awards, because impairment is the only possible explanation for handing the George Reed Most Outstanding Player trinket to Kelly.

It’s not that Kelly soiled the sheets during the 2023 crusade. But, individually, he didn’t do anything extraordinary. Did he lead the league in passing yards? No. Did he lead the league in pass completions? No. Did he have the best passing percentage? No. Did he toss for the most TDs? No. Did he have the highest efficiency rating? No. Did he scamper for more yards than every other QB? No.

Cripes, man, Winnipeg Blue Bombers QB Zach Collaros was better than Kelly in all but one of those six disciplines.

Meantime, the other man on the final MOP ballot, Brady Oliveira, ran like a scalded dog all season, topping out in rushing yards (1,534), yards from scrimmage (2,106) and touchdowns (13).

It sure seems to me that the football reporters are guilty of VWITG (voting while in the grog).

So, yes, they should be ashamed, and anointing Kelly MOP is a horrible optic when coupled with his calamitous performance in last Saturday’s East Division final vs. Montreal Larks. There’s only one reason the Argos won’t be grabbing grass at Timbits Field in this evening’s 110th skirmish for the Grey Cup—Kelly’s ghastly, deer-in-the-headlights quarterbacking. He was Larry, Curly or Moe. Take your pick. He kept giving the Larks the pigskin (four interceptions, two pick-sixes, one lost fumble, two failed third-and-shorts), and that seldom pays dividends in playoff football. Or on a sandlot, for that matter. Thus, the Boatmen were one-and-done, deservedly so.

Of course, Kelly’s Keystone Kop QB shtick in a 38-17 drubbing by the Larks wasn’t a consideration in MOP voting, because the ballots were in long before his deep dive into slapstick. The verdict had already been delivered (39 ayes for Kelly, 22 for Oliveira), and I suspect the news snoops know they look like twits, even if most of them won’t admit it.

But, hey, it’s not at all surprising that they’d opt for Kelly over Oliveira. They’re cult-like in their admiration for QBs and, remember, this is the same Old Boys Club that took almost half a century to elect a female to the Media Wing of the Canadian Football Hall of Fame.

Hands up all those who believe Kelly’s claim that he was concussed during the Argos-Larks skirmish. That’s the tale he told John Hodge of 3DownNation a few days after the fact, although Kelly couldn’t pinpoint the moment he had his bell rung. Which, if you’ve ever had your bell rung, makes sense. Among the many symptoms of a concussion, you see, is wonky recall. Except there’s this: It was a self-diagnosis. That’s right. QB Kelly became Dr. Kelly. He had nary a natter about a whack to the noggin with anyone holding a medical degree. Medics didn’t detect any signs of head trauma in observing his play or sideline behaviour. Nor did his coaches. Kelly never spent time in the quiet tent. He simply diagnosed himself as concussed. Thus, it lends itself to skepticism. Saying “my head was not good” comes across as a complete copout, a way to excuse a game gone horribly wrong. I mean, the guy was flinging the football to the wrong team from the get-go, which is to say the Boatmen’s opening offensive salvo. Are we to believe he hit his head on the changing room door en route to the field? But, as someone who’s suffered multiple concussions and remains affected by them to this day, I can say that they make you say and do peculiar things. Like pretending to be a doctor. Trust me. Been there, done that. It’s scary stuff. Kelly’s comments ring genuine to me.

I’m all for the Lords of Rouge Football honoring the game’s greats, but it seems odd that they’d name the MOP in honor of a running back, George Reed. Not that the Saskatchewan Roughriders legend is unworthy. It’s just that the football reporters’ fascination with quarterbacks has made it a QB award, with 17 of the past 23 winners (42 overall) behind centre. Seems to me that Ol’ Spaghetti Legs, Jackie Parker, would have been more appropriate.

If you’re wondering, Vicki Hall becomes a rose among 104 thorns this very day when FRC members gather to officially welcome her to the Media Wing of the CFHofF. And, no, I can’t explain why it took them so long to add a female member.

There’s always been a feel-good vibe between the CFL and the boys and girls on the beat, even when the Lords of Rouge Football are doing cockeyed things like swooping into the U.S. or keeping female reporters out of changing rooms (hello, Cal Murphy). The scribes and talking heads genuinely like the league, the quirkiness of the game, the characters (hello again, Cal Murphy), the accessibility of the players, and the closeness of the small community. Alas, the herd of news snoops covering the three-downs game has dwindled this century, with few outlets dispatching their people to games hither and yon. That was among the talking points in CFL commissioner Randy Ambrosie’s natter with news snoops during Grey Cup week.

“It’s certainly something we talk about all the time and we think about all the time,” Commish Randy said. “There’s been an erosion of kind of the mainstream media industry and many of you have seen colleagues of yours who covered our league and covered sports for a long time come and go. I think the answer is…we know we’re gonna have to be much more self-reliant, we’re gonna have to focus on many of our own solutions to get our story told. We do have some remarkable professionals that do work inside of our league that help get that story told.

“And, of course, we rely on all of you and I do want to emphasize that I thank all of you for the role you play. We try to work as much as possible with all of you to give you the fuel and oxygen you need to tell our story, but I think longer term we are convinced that in some ways we’ll have to be able to do more of that heavy lifting on our own and be responsible for more of that.”

Translation: Will the last news snoop to leave please remember to turn out the lights?

The sports columnist at our national newspaper, Cathal Kelly, won’t be the last to leave. He’s already gone. I mean, if he was in The Hammer to opine on the Grey Cup participants or hijinks in advance of this evening’s Bombers-Larks skirmish, he wasn’t there long enough to run up a decent bar tab. Nary a word from Kelly re Grey Grail appeared in the Globe and Mail during the week. But, hey, he managed to scribble something about Jim Harbaugh, an American college football coach, so there’s that. (Trent Frayne will be spinning like a lathe in his grave.)

The Grey Cup week shocker was Paul Friesen and Ted Wyman of the Winnipeg Sun putting feet on the ground in The Hammer. Postmedia doesn’t get a whole lot of things right, but taking the travel shackles off the two Sun scribes was definitely the right thing to do with the home side in the hunt for a return to Grey Grail glory. With Friesen and Wyman on site, it made for a dandy newspaper battle between the Sun and Drab Slab, which sent Jeff Hamilton and young Taylor Allen into the fray. They all scribbled boffo stuff, of course, and the final article count was Sun 24, Drab Slab 22.

Best Grey Grail read for me was delivered by young Eddie Tait, whose rock bottom-to-top of the heap yarn on Brady Oliveira was boffo stuff. Young Eddie, of course, was once the premier writer on all things three-downs football at both the Sun and Drab Slab, and he often reminds us what we’ve been missing in our daily newspapers. Fortunately, we can always find it at bluebombers.com, where his tale-telling continues to flow.

If the Bombers topple the Larks today, remind me to ask Young Eddie if it’s difficult typing with Grey Cup rings on three of his fingers.

I couldn’t work in jock journalism today (newspaper department) if I was required to perform all the self-promotion I see on X. The boys at the Drab Slab, in particular, are unabashed braggarts, constantly pumping their own tires as if a dangling participle has never found its way onto their pages. It’s all fabulous stuff. Just ask them. Well, if it’s all the same to them, I’ll make my own call on what’s good and what should have been spiked.

Hey, look who’s taken to social media to give a shoutout to the Bombers in advance of today’s skirmish vs. the Larks: Burton Cummings, that’s who. I assume Burton sent his well wishes from his home in Moose Jaw, but don’t ask me why a rock ‘n’ roll legend is hanging his hat in a remote outpost on the Flattest Of Lands. Can we expect Mick and Keith to settle in Speedy Creek or Biggar?

When I awoke this morning, three Vancouver Canucks—Quinn Hughes, Elias Pettersson, J.T. Miller—were atop the NHL points leaderboard with 28 apiece, and Kyle Connor of the Winnipeg Jets sat in the catbird seat among goal-scorers with 14. That must be such an inconvenience for both TSN and Sportsnet. I mean, if those four puck hogs from the colonies insist on putting up those kind of numbers, our two national sports networks might take notice and be forced to pre-empt their regularly scheduled slobbering over the Maple Leafs.

This from the TSN website: “After being selected first overall in the NHL Draft, (Connor) Bedard is off to red-hot start and on pace to set a new mark for modern-day rookie goal scorers.” Excuse me, but Teemu Salanne lit the lamp 76 times as an NHL freshman, in 1992-93. If that wasn’t ‘modern day’ when did ‘modern day’ begin?

Montreal Canadiens saluted former captain Pierre Turgeon last week by placing him in the Ring of Honour at the Bell Centre. As part of the ceremony, Turgeon carried the Habs Torch to centre ice. When they do that in Winnipeg, the player carries a Slurpee.

Personally, I don’t care that the Professional Women’s Hockey League is still without team names, team logos and a schedule. It’s enough that they’re at training camp and they’ll drop the puck in January.

Swift Current Broncos have suspended head coach Devan Praught for being a jerk to teenage boys, that on the heels of Kevin Constantine being booted out of the Western Hockey League for being a jerk to teenage boys. What the hell is wrong with these guys?

There’s a report that the Major League Baseball competition committee is toying with the nation of reducing the pitch clock with runners on base from 20 seconds to 18. Hey, I’m all for giving the game some giddyup, but if they keep tinkering with the pitch clock they might as well just play T-ball.

Megan Rapinoe says her injury in the National Women’s Soccer League final is proof there is no God. I agree. I mean, if there really is a God, she/he would have crippled Rapinoe’s mouth, not her leg.

Hey, Tiger Woods will be teeing it up in the Hero World Challenge, a golf tournament he hosts in the Bahamas. Finally, someone who can get Taylor Swift off the sports pages.

And, finally, enjoy the game and go Bombers!

Let’s talk about Gary Bettman and his anti-gay “distraction”…a Blue-and-Gold horror show…empty chairs matter in The ROT…Trump, Kim and fairy tale golf…the Hockey Hall and the Mogilny Mystery…and other things on my mind…

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?

Tony Dungy

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.

Jackie Robinson

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.”

Commish Gary

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.

A Zach attack.

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.

Bo Levi Mitchell

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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