Let’s talk about sports writers refusing to stick to writing sports…and a little of this and a little of that…

Once again, we are hearing a loud chorus of “stick to sports” from the peanut gallery.

Oh, yes, there are many among the rabble who believe it’s extremely ill mannered for jock journos to opine on anything other than goals, slam dunks, double faults, birdie putts, pitch counts, pitch clocks, and if Aaron Rodgers will ever get a new zip code.

Thus, they yelp for the stifling of sports scribes, in the same way and at the same volume Archie Bunker would try to stifle Edith.

A prime example would be the Twitter missive my good friend Paul Friesen of the Winnipeg Sun received the other day: “STFU. Sports journalists commenting on social or political issues are the worst. No clue. Take your f—— agenda and shove it where the sun don’t shine.”

How charming.

Ivan Provorov

It’s a classic “stick to sports” rant, one of the many I’ve read on social media since Ivan Provorov started the Rainbow Resistance Movement in the National Hockey League.

I doubt the Philly Flyers defender meant to become a Pied Piper the January night he pooped on his team’s Pride-theme party by declining to wear a rainbow jersey, but it’s become follow the leader—James Reimer, Eric and Marc Staal, Ilya Lyubushkin and Andrei Kuzmenko have also opted out of a gesture meant to welcome the LGBT(etc.) community to the NHL.

Not surprisingly, numerous jock journos have delivered a stern tsk-tsking to the Defiant Six (and counting), because a great many of the scribes/talking heads lean left, politically and socially.

As an e.g., there was a collective gasp and they choked on their Cheerios when childhood heroes Bobby Orr and Jack Nicklaus pumped Donald Trump’s tires in advance of the last U.S. presidential election. They saw it as the greatest betrayal since Judas puckered up and planted a smooch on Jesus’ cheek, or at least since Roger Clemens took his syringes from Fenway Park to the Bronx.

The scribes and talking heads were told then, as they are today, to shut the hell up and stick to sports.

Except that isn’t how it works.

Sports is not a stand-alone cosmos. It’s been intersecting with politics and social issues since David forced Goliath to tap out.

Jack Johnson

Roll back to the early 20th century, when Jack Johnson and James J. Jeffries threw down for the world heavyweight boxing championship. Their tiff in Reno, Nev., on July 4, 1910, wasn’t billed the ‘Fight of the Century’ because it featured two great gladiators. It was about race and white supremacy, and that’s how the boys at ringside wrote it.

Here’s Max Baethahar of The Daily Gate City the day before the bout: “On Monday we are to see the consummation, the battle of the century, the battle of giants, a contest for physical supremacy between the white and black races.”

After Johnson kayoed Jeffries in the 15th round, race riots promptly broke out across America. At least 17 Black people and two whites were killed. That, not boxing, was the talking point.

Jackie Robinson

When Jackie Robinson broke Major League Baseball’s color barrier in 1947, the dean of America’s Black sports scribes, Fay Young, delivered this message to his Chicago Defender readers: “Robinson will not be on trial as much as the Negro fan. The Negro fan has been the ‘hot potato’ dodged by managers who would have taken a chance by signing a Negro player. The unruly Negro has and can set us back 25 years…The Negro fan can help Robinson. The Negro fan can ruin him. Robinson is an American citizen, an ex-army officer, a ball player and a gentleman. Let us try and meet his qualifications as a gentleman. If you Chicagoans have got to raise a lot of hell, do a lot of cussing, go somewhere else.”

Was Young supposed to write about Robinson’s batting average when Blacks across America were celebrating one of their own who went where none had gone before?

Think Cassius Clay, who joined the Nation of Islam and became the draft dodging Muhammad Ali.

New York columnist Red Smith likened him to “those unwashed punks who picket and demonstrate against the (Vietnam) war,” while Dick Young of the New York Daily News assailed the brash heavyweight titleholder for his religious beliefs, writing, “He is a braggart, but that’s no crime or there wouldn’t be enough jails. The shame of it is that Clay will be used by the Black Muslims, to shill for their brand of hate-mongering. I do not believe Cassius Clay or anyone who thinks like him is good for my country. He is for separatism. He is for black man against white man.”

They were writing about a political and social issue of the 1960s, not jabs and knockout punches.

Adolf Hitler

Similarly, German Chancellor Adolph Hitler and his white supremist Aryan Nation received as much ink in the leadup to the 1936 Olympics in Berlin as Jesse Owens. During the opening ceremony, some non-German athletes acknowledged Hitler with a Nazi salute, and swatstika symbols were in abundance. When Pete Rose lost his baseball career to gambling, the scribes scribbled about athletes and vices. When washout quarterback Johnny Manziel beat up a woman, they wrote about the evils of domestic violence. When John Carlos and Tommie Smith protested the oppression of Black people in the United States—and when Colin Kaepernick took a knee to protest social injustice—that’s what the jock journos focused on. When Donald Trump called any NFL player who took a knee during the Star Spangled Banner “a son of a bitch” and advocated for his firing, social unrest was the topic du jour.

Does anyone truly believe the 1972 Summit Series between Canada and the Soviet Union was strictly about hockey bragging rights? It was Us vs. Them. Our way of life (democracy) vs. their way of life (communism).

“It was f—— war,” is how Phil Esposito described it.

After Paul Henderson delivered the decisive score 34 seconds from time in Game 8, this is what he told Dick Beddoes of the Globe and Mail: “When I scored that final goal, I finally realized what democracy was all about.”

Today, the talking points are equal pay, equal rights, misogyny, sexual orientation, racist team nicknames/logos, Pride nights, gender identity, etc., and opinionists in the toy department deal with it. They must deal with it. Otherwise, they aren’t doing their jobs.

Last June the New York Times instructed its subsidiary The Athletic to keep out of politics: No expression of political leanings on social media or any platform. That’s just stupid. Can you imagine where we’d be if TSN told Rick Westhead that both Hockey Canada and Soccer Canada were off-limits to his deep dives?

Corey Masisak of The Athletic asked the aforementioned Reimer this question after the San Jose Sharks goaltender declined to wear a Pride jersey: “What are your thoughts on transgender people?” Reimer’s response:My beliefs in Christ, what I think the Bible says on that stuff.” What he “thinks” The Bible says? He doesn’t know? Then what’s his beef with wearing a Pride jersey?

Not sure what Ron MacLean was going on about in a gum-flapper with Brian Burke last week on Hockey Night in Canada, but he mentioned something about Aristotle and the “human approach to ethics.” He then asked the Pittsburgh Penguins president how we find a “compromise or a middle ground.” Compromise? Middle ground? On ethics? Sheesh.

Caitlin Clark

Few athletes will keep me up long past my bedtime. Caitlin Clark is one of them. My eyeballs were glued to the flatscreen on Friday night as she put the final touches to a 41-point performance in Iowa Hawkeyes 77-73 win over the previously unbeaten South Carolina Gamecocks. I’m not a huge hoops fan. I think the last game I watched from tipoff to final buzzer featured the Los Angeles Lakers and Jerry West when he was a player not an NBA logo, and I haven’t seen a minute of the NCAA men’s tournament. But I’ve taken a gander at Caitlin and the women’s March Madness twice now, and I like what I see. That’s riveting theatre.

An example of anti-female bias in sports media: On TSN’s overnight SportsCentre last Sunday/Monday, there was no mention of the Toronto Six winning the Premier Hockey Federation title until the show was into its 40th minute. There was just one 20-second highlight, the winning goal in a 4-3 OT game. Over at Sportsnet, they couldn’t find room for the Six until the 53rd minute. On the print side, the Toronto Sun completely ignored the Six’ success vs. Minnesota Whitecaps. That’s what they think of the world’s sole professional women’s hockey league.

Hey, it’s National Hockey Card Day on April 15. Just in time for spring, when the kids are hauling their bikes out of storage and looking for something to stick between the spokes to get that clackety-clack-clack-clack sound.

I note the name Wally Buono will be added to the B.C. Leos Wall of Fame in August. You mean he wasn’t there already?

Now that Jennifer Jones has added a Canadian mixed doubles title to her resume, does any doubt remain that she’s the finest curler ever produced on Manitoba pebble?

So, many times Manitoba champion Mike McEwen is going green, which is to say he’ll now be skipping a team on the Flattest of Lands, with Colton Flasch, Kevin and Dan Marsh as his accomplices. The boys will be curling out of Saskatoon, and I think one thing is certain: Mike won’t look any better in green than Matt Dunstone or Chelsea Carey did. Kermit the Frog looks good in green, Manitoba curlers don’t.

And, finally, some interesting stuff in weekly newsletters from Drab Slab sports editor Jason Bell and sports columnist Mad Mike McIntyre.

Let’s start with Bell. Writing about the highs and lows of getting a scoop and being scooped, he says: “There also comes a time when you tip your hat to the competition. And I’ll do that publicly to Winnipeg Sun columnist Paul Friesen, who wrote this week about the sexism, racism and hate that Gimli curler Kerri Einarson and her team has been subjected to online—during and after their latest effort at the world women’s championship. It’s ugly. And it’s ever so sad.”

Imagine that, acknowledging you got your butt booted and tipping your chapeau to a foe. Nice touch.

Meantime, I found Mad Mike’s newsletter interesting because he delivered his personal rankings of favorite NHL cities and barns.

Cities:
1.
Winnipeg. Cheesy, sure, but there really is no place like home. Yes, even when winter refuses to pack its bags as we approach April.
2. New York City. Of course, this covers three teams in the Rangers, Islanders and Devils. The Big Apple simply can’t be beat.
3. Calgary. Some close friends and family members live there, so a visit is always a highlight.
4. Minneapolis/St. Paul. Same as above.
5. Vegas. Fairly self-explanatory, I would think!

Barns:
1.
Madison Square Garden (New York). The World’s Most Famous Arena is truly incredible.
2. T-Mobile Arena (Las Vegas). The atmosphere is tough to beat.
3. Bell Centre (Montreal). A shrine to hockey history.
4. United Centre (Chicago). The best anthem in sports, hands down.
5. Scotiabank Arena (Toronto). The spotlight is bright. The stage is big.

Hawkeye Pierce

That got me to thinking about my own time on the NHL beat for various rags, most notably the Winnipeg Tribune and Sun.

Cities:
1. Quebec City. Such character. Such beauty. Such lovely people.
2. Montreal. I love the joie de vivre of the French.
3. Los Angeles. Never mind the earthquakes and smog. I got to ride an elevator with Hawkeye Pierce of M*A*S*H once, and he was the spitting image of Alan Alda.

Barns:
1. Montreal Forum. The ultimate shinny shrine and best hot dogs in the world.
2. Maple Leaf Gardens. A bit of a dump, but so much history.
3. Chicago Stadium. Loudest room I’ve ever been in.

Let’s talk about the Gimli Gals and their shiny bronze medal…Fanatics and Lady Gaga’s meat dress…a standing O for Joe in the House…scripture and shinny…Jimmy G and a lifetime of freebes at the Chicken Ranch…Journalism 101…and other things on my mind…

Top o’ the morning to you, Kerri Einarson

Well, at least you’re coming home from Sweden with a trinket, even if bronze isn’t the color of choice.

We all know that you, Val Sweeting, Shannon Birchard and Briane Harris would have preferred to leave Tre Kroner country with gold knickknacks, but the rest of the planet’s female Pebble People long ago stopped cringing at the mere sight of the Maple Leaf and the World Women’s Curling Championship is a tough gig.

Problem is, many among the rabble still don’t get it. They figure any Canadian curler worth her weight in Scotties tissues ought to be able to tumble out of bed, have a quick cup o’ java and a muffin, then give both Silvana Tirinzoni and Anna Hasselborg a wedgie later in the day. No muss, no fuss. Just collect a gold medal and disappear until the frost is on the pumpkin again.

Except we both know that isn’t how it works.

Briane Harris, Val Sweeting, Shannon Birchard and Kerri Einarson.

You and your gal pals from Gimli have had three kicks at the can, Kerri, and your plunder includes two bronze medals, the first earned a year ago and the second this very day with your 8-5 victory over Sweden’s Hasselborg.

I say that’s admirable, but others don’t see it that way. All they see is failure.

I don’t know how much time you spend on social media, Kerri, but you might want to steer clear of it for a few days because the carping began before today’s joust with Hasselborg and, predictably, much of it is negative with gusts up to mean-spirited and just plain idiotic.

Some have called your team “a joke” and “not even in the top five in Canada” and “a curling flop.” Others are calling you and your gal pals “club curlers” and suggest you and Val take up new hobbies. (Like I said, idiotic.) Blah, blah, blah and yadda, yadda, yadda.

Hey, critique is okay, Kerri, but I’ll never understand why the rabble has to get stupid about it.

Personally, I’m not in the habit of trashing athletes who wear the Maple Leaf on the global stage, not unless they go all Ben Johnson and heap disgrace on Our Frozen Tundra.

I also have a soft spot for curlers, Kerri. I know they’re the finest collection of people in jockdom— every-day earthlings with every-day jobs and a special skill—and anyone who’s spent time with them will say the same thing. Pebble People rock!

So try not to let the buzz-kills dim the day, Kerri.

Take comfort in the knowledge that you, Val, Shannon and Briane are the finest outfit in Canada and third best on the planet. Enjoy your summer, then come back for more once the frost is back on the pumpkin.

D’oh Boy commentary of the week comes from old friend and former Postmedia Edmonton columnist Terry Jones. After the Einarson team finished the round-robin portion of the tournament at 7-5, he took to Twitter to inform us that the Gimli gals “definitely don’t deserve to be involved” in the playoffs. What a remarkably dense remark, especially for a Canadian Curling Hall of Fame scribe. Since the global championship shifted to a six-teams playoff format, outfits with seven wins (or worse) have earned a spot in the playoff round every year.
2023: 7-5 (.583)
2022: 7-5 (.583)
2021: 7-6 (.538)
2019: 6-6 (.500)
2018: 6-6 (.500)
I’m not sure what part of those numbers Jonesey doesn’t understand, but I suppose we can cut him some slack since he’s an Alberta boy who’s been brainwashed into believing the inturn and outturn were first introduced on a frozen pond at the intersection of Jasper and 105th in downtown E-Town.

The National Hockey League has chosen Fanatics to replace adidas as its official jersey-maker beginning in 2024-25, and scores of noses are out of joint. Oh, yes, many among the rabble are outraged! Why, there hasn’t been this big a fashion foofaraw since Lady Gaga showed up at the 2010 MTV Music Video Awards adorned in a raw meat dress, a slab of raw meat on her head, and her feet wrapped in raw meat shoes that would have fit a prize hereford. And I don’t get it. I mean, do the seamstresses at Fanatics sew with their knees and elbows? Frankly, I’ve never understood why anyone would fork out $300 for a garment with another person’s name on it, so don’t ask me to explain fan outrage over laundry.

Lady Gaga’s meat gown, by the way, was approximately 50 pounds of Argentinian beef bought at a Los Angeles butcher shop. At, say, $20 a pound, that’s a $1,000 gown, far cheaper than anything she would have found on the Prada rack.

U.S. President Joe Biden received a standing O in the House of Commons the other day, simply for saying he likes Canada’s NHL teams but not the Toronto Maple Leafs. Can we get Joe’s name on the ballot for our next federal election?

Let me see if I’ve got this straight: Ivan Provorov, James Reimer and the Staal boys, Eric and Marc, refused to wear a rainbow-themed jersey on team Pride Nights because it runs contrary to their religious beliefs. Yet they gladly work for, and accept paycheques from, owners who openly support the LGBT(etc.) community. In other words, they won’t do the bidding for an LGBT(etc.) ally, but the the LGBT(etc.) ally’s money is good. Interesting how that works.

Eric Staal insists he has never—ever, ever, ever—worn a Pride warmup jersey, except there’s photographic and video evidence of him adorned in a Pride warmup jersey while with the Montreal Canadiens in 2021. He must have misplaced his Bible before that game.

Interesting results from the annual NHL Players Association poll of 626 members, but, given the climate of the day, I would have asked them questions about how deep their religious beliefs run. To wit:
a) If a group of fans with a Pride flag asked you to pose with them for a pic, would you oblige or tell them your Bible won’t allow it and stomp off?
b) If a member of your family came out as gay, would you openly support them, or would you disavow her or him?
c) Would you play on a team owned by a gay man or woman?
d) Do you “remember the seventh day and keep it holy” by not playing or practicing?
e) Would you accept a gay teammate and support him in every way?

Squawk boxes on the Left Flank of the Land are making a hard pitch for Quinn Hughes of the Vancouver Canucks to win the Norris Trophy as the NHL’s top rearguard. As if. There’s as much chance of that happening as O.J. leading the FBI to the real killers sometime today, so they can save their oxygen. Hey, Hughes is a fine, young player, but his misguided boosters seem to think the determining factor in Norris balloting should be his +18 rating, not Erik Karlsson’s 22 goals and 90 points.

Babe alert! Las Vegas Raiders quarterback Jimmy Garoppolo might have received an offer he can’t refuse—nookie for life. Yup, good-looking Jimmy G has caught the attention of workers at Nevada’s famed brothel, the Chicken Ranch, and they’re offering free samples. “I almost fainted when I heard Jimmy signed with the Raiders,” said Caitlin Bell. “He deserves free sex just for joining our team. But he gets free sex for life from us just because he’s such a legit babe!” Puts a new twist on the term “quarterback option,” don’t you think?.

Things that make me go hmmm, Vol. 2,146: Damien Cox of the Toronto Star figures the final dash to the Stanley Cup tournament is a giant yawn. “Another season in which the final 15 games of the NHL campaign are mostly just waiting for the playoffs, and seeing which team will have the best odds in the draft lottery. Playoff races? A thing of the past,” he tweets. Hmmm. Cox might want to have a word with the rabble in Pittsburgh, Sunshine, Fla., Calgary, Winnipeg, Nashville and on Long Island about “a thing of the past,” because last time I looked, which was this morning, their hockey heroes are still squabbling over final seeding in the present.

Hell freezes over, Vol. 1,288: Toronto Six were on the sports front of both the Toronto Star and Toronto Sun last Tuesday.

An ‘F’ in Journalism 101: How do you write an entire column on the Six and not mention the Premier Hockey Federation? Well, we’ll have to ask Steve Simmons about that. The Postmedia Tranna scribe, you see, waxed on in an ode to the Six and women’s hockey, yet he failed to mention what league they play in, nor did he mention the PHF’s competition, the Professional Women’s Hockey Players Association, when commenting on the overall state of Ponytail Puck. The best he could do was inform readers that there’s “one league and a partial second league of better talent.” The column wouldn’t have passed the sniff test in Journalism 101, but facts are a casualty when a guy parachutes in to scribble a know-it-all, one-off piece.

Simmons estimated the head count for the Six-Connecticut Whale semifinal skirmish at Mattamy Athletic Centre in the Republic of Tranna at 600, and suggested “the game deserved more. The players deserved better. This was a game in need of a full house, in need of atmosphere that came as much from the stands as it did from those on the ice.” Pot meet kettle. Simmons and the Toronto Sun have ignored the Six for almost the entirety of their three-year existence. Don’t the women “deserve” better press coverage?

The Isobel Cup, by the way, will be awarded this very night at Mullett Arena in Tempe, Ariz., where the Six and Minnesota Whitecaps squabble over PHF bragging rights.

Good grief, the Winnipeg Sun had a two-page sports section on Wednesday, with a grand total of three articles. As an alumnus who was there when the good times rolled, that’s painful to see.

And, finally, here’s what head coach Deion Sanders told his Colorado Buffaloes before they bolted for spring break: “Fellas, be careful on your break. Be careful on your comings and goings. Everyone ain’t for you, everyone ain’t with you, everybody don’t love you, everybody don’t appreciate you, everybody don’t want you to be that guy you plan on being, and your life is of value. Your life is of essence. You are somebody. You are important. So, be careful please. We don’t want to put on all black and go to a funeral. We want to put on all black and go out there and whoop somebody.” Kind of sad that Prime Time felt obliged to deliver that sermon.