Let’s talk about the PWHL, the sports media and Cabbage Patch Kids…PWHL players sticking their necks out…PWHL Minny outdraws the Jets…the Drab Slab still failing on the female file…Jen jawin’ with the ol’ boys on Sportsnet…and other things on my mind

When you’ve been taking in oxygen for 73-plus years, you’ve seen some fads.

You know, things like Cabbage Patch Kids dolls. The Pet Rock. Hula hoops. Hacky sacks. Mood rings. Lava lamps. Davy Crockett coon-skin caps. Rubik’s Cube. ThighMaster. The Macarena. Lava lamps. Waterbeds.

Some of them lasted about as long as summer wages, while others had considerable staying power.

I mention these now-you-see-it, now-you-don’t items because there’s a faddish feel to the Professional Women’s Hockey League.

I mean, the upstart PWHL is clearly the flavor du jour and, judging by the smiling faces in the crowd, it’s quite evident that parents don’t have to drag their kids to the rink kicking and screaming. Our little people can’t get enough of their female hockey heroes.

The demand has been significant, with these head counts to date: Toronto 2,537 (sellout); Ottawa 8,318 (world record for professional Ponytail Puck); Boston 4,012; New York 2,152; Minnesota 13,316 (new world record). That’s not to ignore a boffo TV audience for the New York-Toronto opening act (2.9 million on CBC, TSN and Sportsnet).

It all adds up to a feel-good story and, notably, early indications tell us that media is all-in on the PWHL.

It’s been sunshine, lollipops and a sprinkling of fairy dust since the rollout began in the Republic of Tranna on New Year’s Day, with the first five skirmishes of the season airing on both linear TV and online, and there’s been no shortage of attention from the print side.

Indeed, The Athletic reports that scant seconds after the Montreal-Ottawa game at The Arena at TD Place in the nation’s capital last Tuesday, home side head coach Carla MacLeod encountered a gathering of two dozen news snoops and seven TV microphones.

“I don’t know what to say,” she said. “This is incredible. I’ve never seen anything like this.”

Meanwhile, Ponytail Puck was front page of the newspaper in Toronto, Ottawa and Boston. Not just front page of sports. Front page of…the…newspaper.

PWHL predecessors—Canadian Women’s Hockey League, Premier Hockey Federation—were never favored with that level of interest. Any reporters who attended CWHL games came dressed as pallbearers.

Question is, what does the media do once the PWHL’s new-car smell has worn off? Do those Page One articles, top-of-the-hightlight-show mentions and live broadcasts on multiple channels disappear?

I mean, as the new kid on the jock block settled in comfortably during the past week, I couldn’t help but recall a Winnipeg Free Press editorial from last February.

The opinion piece spoke to an increasingly nasty dispute between Soccer Canada and the country’s national women’s side, and it was quite scolding in tone, mentioning “ugly gender inequalities” and arguing that “Women’s sport has chronically been devalued and dismissed, and often ignored entirely.”

It cited a 2021 University of Southern California/Purdue University study that found 80 per cent of televised sports news and highlight shows in the United States included “zip, zilch, nada” mention of female athletes.

Let’s set aside for a moment the reality that the Freep was a pot looking for a kettle to call black (its record on the female file is dismal; see below). Let’s deal strictly with the female/male across-the-board imbalance we see on our flatscreens, in our newspapers, online and on digital platforms.

Most studies tell us that females receive 4-6 per cent of overall sports coverage, although Waserman’s The Collective indicates a more accurate figure is 15 per cent.

Either way, the freshly minted PWHL is trudging uphill in a quest to stake out a plot on a sports media landscape divvied up mostly on the whims of men, many of whom have been brainwashed into believing female athletes are second-hand Roses best kept on the periphery, if not out of sight. (Unless, of course, some cleavage is showing, in which case the Postmedia tabloids will find ample room for a lede and sidebar, right beside the Sunshine Girl.)

It’s a tough haul for any new jock op to make a go of it, but more so on the distaff side of the playground where, as the aforementioned Free Press editorial accurately summarized, female athletes/teams have “chronically been devalued and dismissed, and often ignored entirely.”

So let’s be clear on one thing: The PWHL needs the sports media. It’s not the other way around.

The PWHL is like that new chew toy you bring home for your dog. Ol’ Yeller is keen to gnaw on the thing the first few days, but he soon loses interest and goes back to chewing the couch cushions. A lot of sports editors/directors are like Ol’ Yeller.

Put it another way: You can still buy a Cabbage Patch Kids doll today, but it isn’t the riotous bit of business we witnessed 40 years ago, when body armor was a requirement for any parent brave enough to face the toy store mobs in search of the ugly, little things. People actually suffered broken limbs in the chaos (true story). But who even talks about Cabbage Patch Kids these days?

Perhaps this first-week, widespread media embrace of the PWHL is a signal that attitudes are adjusting and that sports editors/directors won’t be quick to abandon this iteration of Ponytail Puck.

Maybe, just maybe, Ol’ Yeller has learned a new trick.

As mentioned above, an example of the great female/male divide in sports coverage can be found on the pages of the Free Press, or as I like to call it, the Drab Slab. As much as they talk a good game about their attention to female athletes/teams, they’re miserable slackers on the female file. Here are the numbers for articles/briefs exclusive to female and male sports for 2023:

Male: 3,892 M (324 per month ave.)
Female: 696 F (58 ave.)
Local female: 192 (16 ave.; average of 10 for the last nine months of 2023.)

Here’s something else: In seven of 12 months, half or more of the total e-editions contained 0 local female coverage. Yes, zero. As in “zip, zilch, nada.”

And yet they have the balls to talk about “ugly gender inequalities” and how female athletes have been “devalued and dismissed, and often ignored entirely.”

If they recognize it’s wrong, why the hell don’t they do something about it?

In the department of Things You Thought You’d Never Hear, I give you Daniella Ponticelli, play-by-play voice with the PWHL. After a late, third-period goal by Laura Stacey in Montreal’s OT win over Ottawa, an excited Ponticelli delivered this gem: “And how about that? First person she gets to hug, her teammate, her linemate Marie-Philip Poulin. Of course those two are engaged and it’s just an incredible moment to share.” It was also an incredible call by Ponticelli, who humanized the occasion by referencing the off-ice relationship between the two gay women. Loved it.

Just a thought: I don’t recall play-by-play pioneer Foster Hewitt ever describing a fiancé-fiancé goal during his time in the Gondola (Google it, kids).

Not so lovely are numerous juvenile comments online that make sport of the sexual orientation and/or question the gender of PWHL players. The specifics of the ugliness won’t be repeated here, but suffice to say some people truly need to get a life.

Count me surprised that the PWHL hasn’t mandated neck protection. Players are required to wear full cages to guard against facial owies, but they’re one skate blade away from a ghastly neck wound (or worse). Doesn’t make sense.

If you’re scoring at home, the eye-popping 13,316 head count for the PWHL Montreal-Minnesota do-si-do at Xcel Energy Center in St. Paul on Saturday was a better number than 12 of Winnipeg Jets home dates this season. It tops the average attendance at the Little Hockey House On The Prairie. But, hey, no one wants to watch Ponytail Puck, right?

Again, if you’re scoring at home, women take care of business quicker than the men: All five PWHL skirmishes in the past week were less than 2 1/2 hours from faceoff to final buzzer, whereas nine of last night’s 12 NHL games took more than 2 1/2 hours to complete. The difference isn’t great, but it gives fans at an NHL game ample time for an extra beer run.

A brief comment about the actual PWHL on-ice product: There aren’t enough players with a shoot-first mentality. So many in prime scoring position, so many dumb passes. Shoot the puck, ladies.

There’s been much chatter about the Jennifer Botterill-Jamal Mayers-Sam Cosentino natter the other night on Sportsnet, whereby the trio discussed the merits of the men’s hockey “code,” which, albeit unwritten, is a twisted version of the golden rule and states one must do unto others what others have done to you. In other words, poke out a foe’s eye if said foe has already plucked out a teammate’s eye.

Naturally, Mayers and Cosentino threw in with all advocates of goon hockey, saying two-handed head-bashing with a club is an admirable bit of business to be celebrated rather than scorned. They sounded as dopey as they looked, especially Mayers.

Botterill, meanwhile, pooh-poohed that caveman mentality, shrieking that “it is archaic” and submitting “there’s a difference between tough and physical and cheap and dirty.”

No surprise that many keyboard warriors were quick to pounce on Botterill, insisting that the great Olympic champion has no business opining on such matters because she never played in the NHL.

Well, I’ve got news for you keyboard warriors: Neither did you.

Interesting tweet from Murat Ates of The Athletic: “I can’t speak for any other sports reporter but, for me, the idea of being a perfectly objective robot about the team I cover is a myth.” Amen to that, Murat. I’ve been there and done that, and I can confess that I wanted the 1979 Winnipeg Jets to win, I wanted the 1973 Portage Terriers to win, I wanted Donny Lalonde to knock Sugar Ray Leonard’s block off, but I tried not to let my rooting interest creep into my copy. Were I still in the rag trade, I’d be cheering like hell for the PWHL to succeed. Harboring an unspoken rooting interest for the athletes/teams you cover isn’t a flaw. It’s being human. Back in my day, us beat writers were part of the travelling party, riding on the team bus and often sitting beside them on team flights, which were commercial. I once had American Thanksgiving dinner with Pat Stapleton and his family, at their home, when he coached the Indianapolis Racers. What, I’m not supposed to root for him?

It wasn’t shocking that Connor McDavid scored five points in a game last week. It’s shocking that the Edmonton Oilers captain did it in just 16 minutes and 35 seconds on the freeze. Four forwards and five defencemen had more ice time.

So, the Hamilton Tabbies have performed a nip-and-tuck on brittle quarterback Bo Levi Mitchell’s contract, reducing the bottom line from $522,000 in salary to $225,000 and a $50,000 signing bonus plus incentives. That’s good pay for a guy who’ll spend 2/3 of the Rouge Football season in the infirmary.

My first thought when I heard the Edmonton Elks had signed McLeod Bethel-Thompson to play QB in the 2024 crusade? Is it April 1?

And, finally, apparently a teenage boy in Oklahoma, Willis Gibson, became the first human to beat Tetris. I’d say I’m impressed, but first someone will have to tell me what Tetris is.

Let’s talk about Zach Hyman and anti-Semitism…online homophobia for women’s futbol…The Littlest Hobo and the Shohei Ohtani fallout…Toronto the Hick Town…living in Regina…the Toronto Star’s in-house award…Spike Lee’s stinky sneakers and Lionel Messi’s unscuzzy shirts…and other things on my mind

The Littlest Hobo

Zach Hyman is speaking out against the evil that is anti-Semitism, and I hear him.

“Jewish people…don’t feel safe,” the Edmonton Oilers forward was telling Mark Spector of Sportsnet last week. “There are attacks on synagogues. My high school (in Toronto) has had two bomb threats. This is just for being Jewish. It’s just because you’re Jewish. There’s no other reason.

“Being a Jewish person doesn’t feel comfortable right now, and that’s a scary feeling. It’s supposed to be getting better.”

I hear Hyman even though I’m not Jewish. I hear him because I’m part of the LGBT(etc.) collective, and it’s supposed to be “getting better” for us, too.

Yet then we learn that the American Hockey League has told Chicago Wolves coach Bob Nardella to go away for 10 games, because he spewed anti-gay remarks at a referee. Naturally, Nardella denies saying what he said because “that is not the type of person” he is. Except there were witnesses, so that’s exactly the “type of person” Nardella is.

We also learn of findings from a study of online abuse at this year’s Women’s World Cup, in which 96 players in Australia and New Zealand were out lesbians. The report includes this discouraging note: “Making up almost 50% of all detected abuse across the tournament, Sexist, Sexual and Homophobic messages appear to be the weapon of choice to target players.”

“The weapon of choice.” What an interesting, albeit accurate, way to describe it. Sigh.

Also worth noting from the FIFA Social Media Protection Service/global players’ association: The women received 28.5 per cent more abuse online than men at their 2022 World Cup in Qatar. Double sigh.

Apparently the Los Angeles Dodgers’ winning 10-year, $700-million sales pitch to land baseball free agent Shohei Ohtani included a video from late hoops legend Kobe Bryant. The Toronto Blue Jays tried to match it by showing reruns of The Littlest Hobo. According to those familiar with negotiations, Ohtani said, “Why am I watching this German Shepherd lost in Toronto? I already have a dog.”

When last seen, some of the natterbugs on TSN and Sportsnet were still off their feed, moaning about the Blue Jays’ failed bid to lure Ohtani to the Republic of Tranna for the 2024 season and beyond. Not to worry. To turn those frowns into happy faces, James Duthie plans to host an Auston Matthews home movie marathon for staff at both networks, showing each of the Maple Leaf centre’s 322 career goals. Matthews will be in attendance. Boot licking is optional and by appointment only.

Ohtani’s official mouthpiece, Nez Balelo, told USA Today that he felt “really, really bad for the country of Canada,” after his prized client chose to play his baseball in Dodgers blue. Hey, don’t cry for us, Nez Balelo. We’ve still got Nickelback, the rouge and real beer, eh.

Count Jon Heyman of the New York Post among those tickled that Ohtani won’t be hitting and (eventually) pitching in the Republic of Tranna: “No offense to the Toronto Blue Jays, but this is much better for Major League Baseball,” he writes. “The Jays may have been a better opportunity for marketing dollars because they represent an entire country, but he has to live, too. At this point all that matters is that Ohtani made the right call. Not only for him but us too. Sorry, but reality is reality. The Jays are a fine team and organization. They’ve made the playoffs three of the last five years. Toronto is a beautiful city, too, but for non-hockey sports, there’s a small-time feel to the place.” I’m aghast. I mean, can Heyman really be talking about The Six? The Big Smoke? He makes it sound like a way station no bigger than a parking lot, with all the glitz and glam of a church service. Does Drake know about this, and shouldn’t he be making a rap album about ugly Americans dissing his burg?

Those of us who live in the colonies know Heyman has got it all wrong. The Republic of Tranna is the Centre of the Universe. Just ask them.

A case in point would be this item from Elliotte Friedman in his 32 Thoughts column for Sportsnet: “Connor Bedard and Connor McDavid at 10pm ET? Come on. Should be Prime Time, nationally televised everywhere in North America.” What Friedman actually meant was this: “Any game featuring Connor Bedard and Connor McDavid should face off before me and all my friends in the Centre of the Universe are in our jammies.”

Jeff Hamilton of the Drab Slab took a shot at the Flattest of Lands re the hiring of Corey Mace as head coach of the Saskatchewan Roughriders: “They wanted a guy who was willing to live in Regina year-round. Talk about sacrifice.” Love it. Atta boy, Jeff.

Drab Slab editor Paul Samyn was scribbling about Artificial Intelligence as it relates to media in his weekly newsletter the other day. If you want an example of genuine artificial intelligence, don’t read a newspaper or magazine. Just spend a night in a pub and listen to the voices around you.

It occurred to me last Monday that the Drab Slab sports section is printing Saturday news in its Monday editions. Whatever became of the seven-day world?

So I note the Eastern Cartel of Canada’s sports media has determined that hoopster Shai Gilgeous-Alexander is the top jock in all the land for 2023. I won’t quibble about the choice of SGA as winner of the Northern Star Award, but I still have trouble with the process, whereby a supposed “national panel of reporters, columnists and broadcasters” makes the call. There were 39 people on the selection committee, only eight of whom work west of the Manitoba-Ontario border. A 31-8 split tells me the Northern Star is still a Toronto Star in-house award, and it always will be until Damien Cox finds more friends out here in the colonies and lets them have a voice.

This from Steve Simmons of Postmedia Tranna: “If you don’t know the name Shai Gilgeous-Alexander please don’t embarrass yourself by admitting it. Especially if you think you know your sports in Canada.” That from a guy who said this about futbol during the women’s World Cup in June 2019: “My knowledge of the game and my interest in the game is so limited. I don’t know the ABCs. Honestly, I couldn’t tell you all the positions. I don’t know how many players are on the field. Honestly, I have no connection to this game at all. I didn’t grow up with it, I didn’t play it, I never watched it, I didn’t care about it.” Now that’s embarrassing.

The Toronto Sun acknowledged the existence of the Professional Women’s Hockey League with a two-page spread on the upstart group last Thursday, with this headline: “Crash course: Everything you need to know about the PWHL.” Trouble is, everything readers needed to know isn’t what writer Mike Ganter was telling them. For example, “all six PWHL teams are owned by the Mark Walton Group,” and “the Walton family’s net worth” is $238.5 billion. Wrong and wrong. It’s the Mark Walter Group that’s bankrolling the PWHL’s six franchises, not the Walton family. I doubt we’ll be seeing John Boy or Mama Walton at the rink. As for wealth, Mark Walter’s personal fortune is pegged at $5.8 billion and his Guggenheim Partners has more than $325 billion in assets under management. Still, it’s encouraging to see the TorSun take an interest in Ponytail Puck.

If you’re scoring at home, Taylor Swift has attended six Kansas City Chiefs skirmishes this season. My only concern is for those among us who actually track how often Her Royal Swiftiness shows up to watch her main squeeze, Travis Kelce, catch passes from Patrick Mahomes. Seems to me that falls into the “get a life” file.

Stop me if you’ve heard this before: Patrik Laine is injured.

Stop me if you’ve heard this before (Vol. II): Bianca Andreescu will skip the Aussie Open due to injury.

This is cool: A rare pair of gold Air Jordan 3 sneakers designed for filmmaker Spike Lee and discovered in a donation bin at a shelter in Portland, Ore., is up for auction until tomorrow. Sotheby’s indicates the size 12½ sneakers could fetch up to $20,000, and the entire winning bid will go directly to the Portland Rescue Mission.

On the subject of clothing and auctions, six jerseys worn by Lionel Messi during last year’s World Cup sold for $7.8 million online and, according to a Sotheby’s spokesperson, “they all smell fine.” He couldn’t say the same for Spike Lee’s sneakers.

And, finally, Shohei Ohtani isn’t the only person who’ll live on deferred payments in retirement. I already do. They’re called CPP, OAS and GIS.

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 a double dose of Rouge Football…one MOP candidate had a day, the other was a day late and a dollar short…buyer beware on the Flattest Of Lands…the Great Biffy Burglary…and other things on my mind

You can find the Edmonton Oilers season in here.

There’s nothing like going all couch potato for Rouge Football, so let’s share some random and cheeky observations collected during seven hours in front of the flatscreen on Saturday…

Montreal Larks vs. Toronto Argos: Apparently there’s a record head count at BMO Field in the Republic of Tranna. Hmmm. If so, a lot of people are disguised as empty seats…Seriously, though, it’s nice to see 20,000-plus people in the Republic of Tranna finally noticed the Argos exist…Boffo start for Chad Kelly on this Canadian Football League Double Dip Day—NOT! The Argos QB and presumed (by a brain-frozen eastern media) Most Outstanding Player award winner flung the football into the flat on the Argos first drive and Marc-Antoine Dequoy took it 101 yards the other way for a Larks TD…I’m guessing Kelly’s day will get better…Oops. Nope. Another interception by Kelly. And another. And another pick six. And a lost fumble. And two failed third-and-shorts…Kelly gets the Bronx Cheer late in the third quarter. Little wonder. He’s playing like a floor mop, not a MOP…Corn Dog Cody Fajardo, the Larks QB, isn’t much better, but at least he’s mainly flinging the football to his guys…Hey, there’s Argos legend and current GM Pinball Clemons. It’s always a good day when there’s a Pinball sighting, even if he isn’t smiling…It’s about that Save On Foods Touchdown to Win contest: If a player returns a kickoff for a TD, the prize is a year’s supply of food. If there are two kickoffs returned for TDs, the prize is $1 million. Correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t a year’s worth of food cost $1 million these days?…The Argos are getting mauled. They look like this is their first day together. Come to think of it, the Boatman clinched first place in the East Division halfway through August, and head coach Ryan Dinwiddie has been diddling with his lineup ever since. Serves him right for being a smart-ass and sitting out his starters…I swear, the TSN mics are picking up more F-bombs than you’ll hear in a biker bar. Larks head coach Jason Maas unloaded the loudest expletive during his post-match rant. They might want to do something about that before the large lads arrive in The Hammer for next Sunday’s tussle for the Grey Grail…Worst part about the Larks whupping the Argos and advancing to the 110th Grey Cup game: QB Corn Dog Cody will spend the week squawking about “all the doubters and all the haters” who didn’t believe in him and his mates. Yo! Corn Dog! Nobody hates you and some didn’t believe in you because you hadn’t beaten anyone with a winning record all year until this semifinal. So spare us the “poor us” shtick…Final score: Montreal 38, Republic of Tranna 17.

Winnipeg Blue Bombers vs. B.C. Leos: Hmmm. It looks crisp, but not too brrrrr-ish to sway this skirmish to determine official bragging rights in the West Division. But, hey, I’m happily stretched out under the blankets on my loveseat, not sitting in the chill of the Football Field In Fort Garry. So what do I know about brrrr-ish?…Whatever, Ma Nature served up crisp, running back weather and, sure enough, Bombers RB Brady Oliveira is a man on a mission, churning up 70 yards of prime South Winnipeg real estate and a TD on the opening salvo for the defending champs. He has 100 yards by recess. That’s what an MOP does…This is snot-bubble football, and no team does that better than Winnipeg FC. If that’s how it’s going to be, this one is over. Trust me…Oh dear. Biggie Bighill leaves the grid rather gingerly. Actually, he’s flat-out hobbled. We won’t see him again today, unless one leg is in a boot and he’s on crutches…I don’t know about you, but I wish that young girl in the Save On Foods commercials would spend more time in school and less time in the grocery store. All the kid does is boss everyone around, and she’s never once let her little brother speak. Not in two years. I’ve decided she’s annoying…My goodness. Willie Jefferson’s arms are so long that the Bombers could rent him out to stop traffic at railway crossings…Willie J. and Jackson Jeffcoat are the definition of mayhem, and that’s not to overlook the rest of Richie Hall’s defensive dozen…What’s this? Leos QB Vernon Adams puts six points on the board with a Hail Mary floater to close the first half? Not to worry. The Leos are still going home with their tails between their legs…Good grief. When did Sergio Castillo morph into Marc Liegghio? I mean, two missed field goals? That wrong-footed nonsense better not follow Castillo to The Hammer and the Grey Grail next Sunday…TSN natterbug Glen Suiter tells us that “it literally takes all 12” Leos to bring down Oliveira. I realize the gasbags in the booth are prone to hyperbole, but that’s just stupid…I don’t know about you, but I’m all for Bo Levi Mitchell replacing Davis Sanchez on the TSN panel…Bombers kick returner Janarion Grant looks fast when he’s standing still…Can’t say enough about the rabble at the Football Field In Fort Garry. No gathering in Rouge Football is louder than that bunch…Ouch. How black and blue will Adams’ body be after this beating by the Bombers?…Nice touch by the local football heroes to invite their wives/girlfriends and kiddies onto the field to celebrate a fourth successive West Division title? Lovely…My only concern right now is Biggie’s health for the Grey Cup game…Final score: Winnipeg 24, B.C. 13.

Just wondering: Is it too late for members of the Football Reporters of Canada to call back their ballots for Most Outstanding Player and X out the name Chad Kelly and insert Brady Oliveira? Ya, it’s probably too late. But, I swear, if Kelly is anointed MOP later this week there’ll be a whack of news snoops with eggs on their kissers. Scrambled, of course.

Yesterday’s football/hockey Double Dip in Good Ol’ Hometown, with both Winnipeg FC and the Jets playing on the same day/night, aroused fond memories of days of yore. Us news snoops would watch the Blue Bombers grab grass on one side of Maroons Road in the afternoon then scoot across the street to Winnipeg Arena, where the Jets would feed us or we’d dine on press box popcorn while they frolicked on the local freeze and we cranked out our football/hockey copy. As I recall, the Bombers usually won, the Jets usually lost in those Double Dips. You know, just like yesterday. Good times.

If you’re looking for a good read, check out dear friend Judy Owen’s piece on the aforementioned Brady Oliveira. It’s good stuff.

The name Scott Milanovich is mentioned in any discussion about the vacant Saskatchewan Roughriders head coaching post, but it’s buyer beware on the Flattest Of Lands. Yes, Milanovich earned a Grey Cup ring as head coach of the Argos, but he’s 43-47 as a sideline steward. Also keep in mind that GM Jeremy O’Day will make the coaching call, and he’s the same guy who ushered Corn Dog Cody Fajardo and Jason Maas out of town, yet both will be in The Hammer with the Montreal Larks to participate in the 110th Grey Cup skirmish next Sunday.

Strange headline on the 3DownNation website last week: “Scott Flory committed to Saskatchewan Huskies but will listen if CFL calls.” In other words, he’s committed to coaching university football until a CFL outfit tells him he isn’t committed to university football.

Four dudes were charged last week with the burglary of a toilet, even though the theft was four years ago and the biffy hasn’t been seen since. But there’s no truth to the rumor that it’s the same toilet the Edmonton Oilers season just went down.

Actually, the Great Biffy Burglary was a special kind of heist, in that this was a 227-pound, 18-carat crapper once on display at New York’s Guggenheim Museum and, more latterly, Blenheim Palace in England, where it was pilfered on Sept. 14, 2019. A work of “art” titled America by Italian Maurizio Cattelan, it was worth $5.95 million, totally functional and visitors at both the Guggenheim and Blenheim were invited to use it to take a dump. You know, just like the Oilers goaltenders.

Apparently, folks would stand in the loo queue for up to two hours at the Guggenheim, while an appointment was required to use the golden loo at Blenheim. Either way, folks on both sides of the pond were keen to pee and poop on America.

If you’re wondering, the golden biffy was cleaned every 15 minutes while at the Guggenheim. Or about as often as the Oilers change coaches.

Here’s why many among the rabble refuse to believe the Vancouver Canucks are what their record says they are: They go east and are outplayed badly in Ottawa, even though they stole two points, then they’re given a wedgie by the Maple Leafs in the Republic of Tranna. Two iffy outings makes one wonder what all the noise is about.

There’s nothing fraudulent about Canucks captain Quinn Hughes, though. The guy’s a stud.

Got a giggle out of this: The Leafs were assessed two minor penalties for initiating fisticuffs after clean body belts by the Canucks on Saturday night, and one of the bare-knuckle exchanges featured blueline fossil Mark Giordano. “Important we’re showing other teams that you’re not going to get away with things like that,” Giordano told news snoops. Get away with things like what, tough guy? Body checking? Good grief.

It seems to me that the Winnipeg Jets are a better team now that Blake Wheeler has been removed from the mix. But it’s still early. They have plenty of time to revert to old habits.

Beauty feature by Cheryl Pounder of TSN on her former teammate with Canada’s national women’s shinny side, Caroline Ouellette, who officially enters the Hockey Hall of Fame on Monday night. While focusing on Caroline’s on-ice career, the piece also makes room for her life away from the rink, which includes wife Julie Chu and their daughters, Liv and Tessa. It isn’t often that a gay couple/parents receive the royal treatment on a sports show, so this is special.

Speaking of special women, here are the final numbers for University of Manitoba Bisons placekicker Maya Turner this U Sports football season: Field goals 11-for-14 (longest 48 yards), converts 16-for-16. Total: 27-for-30. I’m guessing head coach Brian Dobie would say young Maya earned her keep.

Is it just me, or does anyone else think the U.S.-Canada Rivalry Series has lost some of its oomph? It’s difficult to gauge the buzz because Hockey Canada and USA Hockey like to keep things like attendance a secret, so the size of the gatherings is a mystery. When I last looked, there were ample tickets available for yesterday’s friendly at Crypto.com Arena in Los Angeles, but perhaps there was a rush to the box office and they sold scads of tickets. Or not. At any rate, the women are two friendlies into a seven-game dosey-do (U.S. ahead 2-zip) and it feels like an after-thought, especially with Professional Women’s Hockey League training camps set to go on Wednesday. That’s where the focus ought to be.

Perhaps I’m not feeling it for the Rivalry Series due to the scheduling. I mean, playing seven games across four months doesn’t lend itself to building interest (we won’t see them again until mid-December, with the final three faceoffs in the front half of February). And, of course, the PWHL drops the puck in January, so that will warrant all the attention.

Question: If a guy is scribbling about women’s sports, shouldn’t he actually know something about women’s sports? You know, like the league names? Yes, he should. So someone at Postmedia needs to clue in hot-shot jock columnist Steve Simmons, who doesn’t know a PWHL from a “WPHL” or a National Women’s Soccer League from a “Women’s Pro Soccer League.”

Could someone please explain the NBA in-season tournament to me in 25 words or less? I mean, it strikes me as a parlour trick that wouldn’t fool a daft school kid. The only difference between regular-season skirmishes and the so-called NBA Cup is…well, nothing. It offers nothing fresh, other than paint-by-numbers floorboards, and some of them are hideous and distracting. As far as gimmicks go, it ranks right up there with Peter Puck (Google him, kids).

A Spanish couple, Fernando Fitz-James Stuart and his bride Sofia Palazuelo, had their second child baptized recently and named her Sofia Fernanda Dolores Cayetana Teresa Angela de la Cruz Micaela del Santisimo Sacramento del Perpetuo Socorro de la Santisima Trinidad y de Todos Los Santos. Good lord. I’ve lived in towns that didn’t have that many names in the phone book.

And, finally, high admiration to all our armed forces, most notably those who served in World War I and II. Precious few of them are still with us, so it’s important that they know their bravery won’t be forgotten.