Top o’ the morning to you, Kevin Klein.
I must say, that was some kind of special, little ditty you dropped last Monday, informing the rabble that you and a band of locals with deep pockets in Good Ol’ Hometown had plucked the Winnipeg Sun from the clutches of the Evil Empire Known As Postmedia.
We aren’t talking about a meh moment here, Kevin. Try a gobsmacker.
Your purchase of the Sun registered high on my give-a-damn meter because I’m an alum of your now-wafer-thin tabloid, although I probably care more than I should.
I mean, it’s been a quarter-century since I last saw the inside of the newsroom at 1700 Church Ave., and those 25 years of separation—plus a decade of ruthless ransacking of the print product and staff by Postmedia overlords on Bloor Street in the Republic of Toronto—ought to have loosened the ties that bind.
But no.
“Finally,” I mused as the glad tidings of the Sun sale leaped from my computer screen. “No more Torontopeg Sun. It can become a true Winnipeg paper again, full of copy about Winnipeg people doing Winnipeg things rather than an assortment of fluff pieces on Mitch Marner’s pouting and Bo Bichette’s hair and Steve Simmons’ weekly musings on all things Leafs, Blue Jays, Raptors, TFC and Argos.”
Indeed, the front page headline last Tuesday informed readers that this is “A NEW DAWN” and, in your column today, Kevin, you bark about your purchase of the Sun being “a promise of a stronger commitment to local news.”
Yet, when I called up the paper this morning and went to the sports section, there it was, a two-page spread of Simmons’ musings on all things Leafs, Blue Jays, Raptors, TFC and Argos. Mentions of Winnipeg teams and athletes: Zero.
Hmmm. That’s local like the CN Tower is the Golden Boy.
But, hey, it’s only the second edition with your hands on the wheel, so I’ll give you a pass. A one-time pass.
In the meantime, Kevin, here’s what I want to know as you settle into your CEO chair:
Does your “NEW DAWN” include a bulked up toy department? At present, you have a stable of three sports scribes—two when you factor in commonplace absences like days off, vacation, sickness and the like. Two just won’t do, Kevin. Not if you expect Paul Friesen, Ted Wyman and Scott Billeck to compete with the mob over at the Drab Slab, which, if you hadn’t noticed, has added to its arsenal with a summer intern now on board.
Does your “NEW DAWN” include boarding passes and passports? The bean counters at Postmedia in The ROT kept Friesen, Wyman and Billeck confined to quarters, which is to say inside the Perimeter Highway, while the Jets, Bombers, elite curlers and all our wonderful athletes flitted hither and yon on their various crusades across the continent. The Jock Journo Three were like little kids not allowed to cross the street.
Does your “NEW DAWN” include an expanded sports section? I realize that depends largely on advertising, Kevin, and selling print media these days is tougher than convincing Donald Trump that elections and criminal trials are on the up-and-up. But come on, man, the Sun sports section has become as skimpy as outfits on the models in the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition. Seriously, two to four pages most days? That isn’t enough pulp to line the bottom of a bird cage. On the whole, your paper has fewer pages than the St-Pierre-Jolys phone book.
Does your “NEW DAWN” include coverage of female athletes/sports other than Kerri Einarson and Jennifer Jones? I mean, are we to believe that all the women in Good Ol’ Hometown and surroundings—other than our curlers—are at home in the kitchen? Well, Kevin, I have it on good authority that the ladies also run, jump, shoot, throw, dribble, scrap, skate, etc., and you might want to take note of the massive uptick in awareness of the goings-on in female hockey, hoops and futbol. And, hey, what about a female sports scribe, Kevin? Your Sun hasn’t had a woman on the beat since the turn of the century, when Judy Owen decided to spend less time talking to sweaty athletes.
I have more questions about the “NEW DAWN,” but those will do for now.
Just consider yourself on notice, Kevin, and I’ll remind you of something I scribbled back in January 2016, scant days after the suits at Postmedia had gone on a blood-letting binge, slashing 90 jobs, merging newsrooms across its network of dailies and, ugh, putting Winnipeg Sun content into the hands of editors/deskers who don’t know a Sals cheese nip from a corned beef on rye from Oscar’s:
“What I am left to wonder is how much Winnipeg will remain in the Sun,” I wrote.“It’s easy enough to recognize that the Winnipeg Jets and Winnipeg Blue Bombers are the big dogs in town and, thus, generate the most talk. But what of lesser players such as the Manitoba Moose, the Winnipeg Goldeyes, the University of Manitoba Bisons, junior hockey, local tennis, golf, curling, figure skating, etc.? My concern is that they shall be lost in the shuffle. I fear the worst.”
I believe we can agree that Postmedia certainly brought us the worst version of the Sun imaginable, Kevin, even if you won’t say it out loud.
The thing is, I don’t fear the worst from you.
I’m thinking that, in time, you’ll shed yourself of a “continued relationship” with Postmedia and remorph the Winnipeg Sun into a Winnipeg product, one with vibrancy, sass and the playfulness and community awareness we had back in the day, when we tweaked Fidel Castro’s nose and adopted a couple of Panda bears from China.
I’d say that’s probably more of a hope than a belief today, Kevin, but I’m counting on you to do the right thing. And I’m rooting for you.
I read with interest Paul Samyn’s most recent weekly Editor’s Note to Drab Slab subscribers, in which he mentioned the Sun’s “heyday decades ago.” Has it really been decades? Yup. The tabloid was good in the mid-to-late 1980s, with gusts up to totally boffo in the 1990s. We had top-drawer coverage in sports, entertainment and news. So many wonderful people, so many talented journalists collectively punching above their weight. I scarcely recognize the product today.
So what’s the top storyline as the Bombers embark on another Canadian Football League crusade in quest of the Grey Cup? It has to be Coach Grunge’s pursuit of the Silver Fox as the winningest sideline steward in Winnipeg FC history. Coach Grunge, of course, is Mike O’Shea, the present-day head coach with 96 Ws. The Silver Fox is Harry Peter Grant, known far and wide as Bud and whose 102 Ws and four Grey Grail titles is the reason there’s a bronze likeness of him outside the Football Field In Fort Garry. Grant is sporting deity. I’m not sure anyone thinks of O’Shea that way, but he can move past Bud as early as July 19, when the Bombers are on The Flattest Of Lands for a frolic with the Roughriders. My guess: It happens in August, and I just hope one and all appreciate the enormity of the achievement.
It was slightly more than a year ago when Milt Stegall gazed upon the three-downs football landscape and noticed a number of grey beards in the Bombers lineup. “The window will close on the foundation, the nucleus of this team, after this year,” he said on TSN’s pigskin panel in advance of the opening kickoff. “I say that because Father Time is undefeated. Adam Bighill 34, Stanley Bryant 37, Zach Collaros 34, Jackson Jeffcoat 32, Willie Jefferson 32, Mike Miller 34, Patrick Neufeld 34, Jermarcus Hardrick 33…all those guys will not be back next year. They can’t stand pat. I don’t care if they go 18-and-oh and win the Grey Cup, they will start making changes, so those guys need to understand this is the final run for the nucleus, for the majority of the nucleus, for this team.” Well, let’s take inventory: Bighill, still on board (albeit in sick bay). Bryant, still on board. Collaros, still on board. Jefferson, still on board. Neufeld, still on board. Do the math, Milt. The majority of the nucleus is back for one more “final run.”
Nobody asked me, but as the large lads in pads gird for the 2024 season, which commences Thursday night with the Montreal Larks in Good Ol’ Hometown for a Grey Grail encore, I find myself thinking the Alouettes and Bombers might be the last two teams standing when it’s winner-take-all on Nov. 17 in Vancouver. Seeing the Blue-and-Gold in the championship skirmish yet again might be a turnoff for some people, but I didn’t get tired of it in the late-1950s and early-1960s, so I’m not going to complain now.
B.C. Leos bankroll Amar Doman continues to press the right buttons on The Other Side of the Rocks, where they’ve opened the upper bowl at B.C. Place to accommodate a flock of approximately 50,000 for the Leos home debut vs. Calgary Stampeders on June 15. Ya, sure, the majority will be there to hear rapper 50 Cent do his thing pre-kickoff. So what? Get ’em in and they might come back. Well done, Amar.
The Leos, of course, have to hold up their end of the bargain. They wouldn’t want to follow 50 Cent with a two-bit performance. (Ya, I agree, that’s a total groaner, but I couldn’t resist.)
Another CFL pre-season thought: Which quarterback will the Football Reporters of Canada mistakenly give the Most Outstanding Player Award to this year?
Hands up if you saw this coming: The Mike Tyson-Jake Paul fist fight scheduled for July 20 in Dallas has been postponed. Surprise, surprise. That was as predictable as snow on the ground at Portage and Main in January. I mean, Iron Mike is 58 years old, prepping to go dukes up with a dude 30 years younger. You think he actually wants to go through with this faux fight? But, hey, apparently his health issue is legit. X-rays, in fact, showed the former world heavyweight boxing champ has an ulcer. Even worse, doctors discovered he still hasn’t passed the portion of Evander Holyfield’s ear that he chewed off in 1997. “That ear lobe has Mike’s bowels backed up like Manhattan traffic during a power outage,” one medic explained. “Less punching and more pooping and Mike will be good to go.”
According to reports, Tyson, a self-confessed pothead, was on a no-W training regimen for the Paul bout—no Weed, no Women, no Wonder the guy has an ulcer.
I don’t know about you, but I pay special attention to former Jets playing in the Stanley Cup tournament final four, and here’s my reading on three members of the New York Rangers, now on vacation: Jacob Trouba is reckless, dangerous and takes dumb penalties, Blake Wheeler should be confined to the press box, and Jack Roslovic skates in circles and accomplishes little.
Nobody asked me, but I say Luke Gazdic has been a nice addition to the Hockey Night in Canada panel on Sportsnet, confirming that a one-time National Hockey League plug can be every bit on-point in a TV studio as an all-time great like Wayne Gretzky. Luke actually looks the part of the hockey player-turned-talking head—he has a missing tooth.
Things that make me go hmmm, Vol. 1,178: According to the folks who track such things, we just experienced the warmest winter in Canada since 1948. Hmmm. And here I thought all the hot air was removed once the plug was pulled on Don Cherry and Coach’s Corner.
A thought while watching the Professional Women’s Hockey League post-season tournament: Sure would be nice to see a PWHL outfit in Good Ol’ Hometown. Unfortunately, I doubt Stan Kasten and Billie Jean King could point to Winnipeg on a map.
Say hello to Zoe Pierce, the freshest face in the toy department at the Drab Slab. Zoe’s a local lass on leave from her journalism studies at Carleton U in Ottawa, and you’ll be seeing her byline on the Winnipeg Free Press sports pages during the next few months. If the summer intern is anything like the last female to scribble sports at the Drab Slab, Melissa Martin, they’ve got themselves a good one.
So I’m tuned in to the Rafael Nadal-Alexander Zverev match at Roland Garros last week, hoping it wouldn’t be Rafa’s final match at the French Open but, at the same time, expecting it would be. The great Spaniard and King of Clay had just broken serve in the second set when … poof! TSN cut away to a bland, outside-court match between our Leylah Annie Fernandez and world No. 147 Jessika Ponchet (I had to look up her ranking). What the bloody hell? It had to be the worst programming call since the Heidi Game (look it up, kids).
And, finally, this is Pride Month. You all know LGBT(etc.) people. Let them know you’ve got their back.
The River City Renegade 
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