While the Rest of Us Watch

The following can be found in its entirety on The Barnstormer. Link below.

Falling in love is easy. We’re conditioned for it. It can happen in an instant, a natural sensation born of basic human need and desire. Sometimes it lasts a few seconds, like when your eyes meet another’s on a morning subway commute or when a song reminds you of a moment long thought passed. Sometimes it lasts a bit longer, it penetrates the being, it becomes like oxygen, or blood, or whiskey. A need. A constant. Sometimes, it seemingly lasts forever. It is unsettling, and yet it is everything. It wakes you in a cold sweat. It asks how your day was. It promises to take you to Nicaragua. It complains about its mother. It tells you it’s all going to work out. It lies.

But as easy as it is to fall in love, falling out of love is apocalyptic. It writes songs. It bears poetry. It drinks. Heavily. And within this context, within this slow spiraling death of what once had nothing but life, is the curse of audience. Of being a spectator in the film version of your own life, watching, hopelessly, as something, someone you love disintegrates. Becomes something you loath. Becomes that which you once, together, swore you’d never be. And as spring lists gently towards summer, and another long season of hockey comes to an end, we’ve collectively been witness to the sad, slow, merciless downfall of CBC’s Hockey Night in CanadaHNIC. Baby. We could’ve had something special.

Continue reading on The Barnstormer


Sometimes an All-Star Notion

I did something horrible this weekend. Something for which I feel great shame. I degraded myself in a way I hadn’t since I was a petulant and ignorant young man.  It was a victimless crime, of sorts, and the only one who was hurt was me. What I did, what I need to admit openly so as to feel some sort of absolution, is watch the NHL All-Star game. In fact, not only did I watch the game, but I preceded that horror of half-hockey and hype by watching the NHL All-Star Draft followed by the NHL All-Star Skills Competition. And as Sunday night frittered away in a sad haze of whiskey and regret, I clutched my Larry Robinson vintage Wales Conference, its polyester blend repelling my tears like an unforgiving ex-girlfriend, and I promised the absent hockey gods that I would never again demean myself like that. I would never again disrespect the game by actively condoning its corporate bonanza played at half-speed. I would refrain from the hype. And as the whiskey and tears combined to blind me in my confession of sin, I cried out to no one in particular: At least I have not sinned as my brother, at least I have not watched the NFL Pro Bowl! And in that moment, I found my redemption: combine the NHL and NFL All-Star events.

It should come as a sign that the two major league all-star events that are both unsuccessful and unlike their respective sports fall on the same weekend, for hockey and football require more physical effort and contact, and as such more chance of injury, than their basketball and baseball brethren. As a result, the all-star games themselves are played with the cautious fervor of Sidney Crosby getting out of a shower. The NBA All-Star Weekend is perhaps the most successful of the four, as their slam dunk and three-point shooting competitions provide an exhibition of the sport’s athleticism, as does the playground feel of the game itself. Additionally, it’s the one weekend a year where illegitimate NBA offspring can go to find their absent dads in one place. It’s what Shawn Kemp called the “family reunion” until he ate and fathered his way out of the game.

Baseball has it’s Midsummer Classic, an all-star game with a title nearly Shakespearian with a history and tradition to match. Plus, if Prince Fielder can weigh the same as my ’93 Honda Civic and have the body fat of an apathetic humpback whale and still sign a contract for $214 million that takes him well into his recliner and Pringles years, one at-bat against 80 mile-an-hour soft tosses every July isn’t going to hurt him. The NFL and NHL all-star “games” are played at half-speed because no one, not even the fans, want to see a player hurt in a nothing contest. So, by my reasoning, two events at half-speed added together equals one at full-speed, no? No.

I’m certainly not suggesting NFL players lace up their Bauers to take on the NHL stars, though the opportunity for Ray Lewis to try and kill some kid from Saskatchewan with his skate for snowing him could be interesting. Nor am I suggesting that NHL players throw on the pads, and try and convert a 3rd down against the NFL stars, mostly because NHLers are notorious for throwing like girls, and the Canadian players would be attempting rouges all afternoon. What I’m humbly suggesting is that the two leagues combine their all-star weekends into one massive, two-sport mega-event. And Drake could still perform, because if pro athletes have one thing in common it’s an affection for mediocre pop hip hop.

Continue reading

Time for the CBC to Put Don Cherry to Bed

Hockey, and in particular the NHL, is at an interesting crossroads. After a nightmare off-season in which the sport’s flaws and failures were exposed, the coming season will be a watershed moment for Canada’s favourite activity outside of beer and weather discourse. With the NBA in a labour dispute the NHL has an opportunity to have the North American sporting scene to itself after the Super Bowl. And although hockey will never have ratings issues in Canada, the return of the Jets to Winnipeg and an improved Toronto Maple Leafs team should increase the sport’s national visibility to an all-time high. In consideration of this increased exposure it’s time the CBC took into account its responsibility as the rights-holder of the sport’s crown jewel, Hockey Night in Canada, and the crucial nature of the sport’s year, and fire Don Cherry and Ron MacLean.

Don Cherry has been espousing closed-minded ignorant childish opinions on the CBC for nearly 30 years. For a long while, it was somewhat amusing in a nationalistic way. It would never be seen on an American network. For that matter, it would never be seen on any other network. Anywhere. “Coach’s Corner” is ultimately very Canadian. It’s a caricature of sports commentary, an homage to the self-deprecating and humble manner in which Canadians can laugh at themselves and each other. “Coach’s Corner” would be a hit on Saturday Night Live. It’s a parody. Near brilliant comedy. The segment has a one-camera setup, because early efforts to teach Cherry how to manage multiple cameras ultimately failed. Cherry quite often gets players names wrong, notably Jarome Iginla (Igilina, or Ingila), Roberto Luongo (Lulongo), as well as the surname of every player born east of Newfoundland and west of Victoria. His suits are a national punch line, and would make Liberace blush. He cheers for the Leafs and the Bruins, openly, and hates the Canadiens and most things Quebecois. He sings the praises of tough players, players equipped with grit and sandpaper, players who hit and fight, and after the game drink beer and bed women. He uses the pejorative “Redneck” as a positive. He hates “Pinkos” and “Commies” and the sissies on the Left. When he isn’t on TV, he’s at rinks in Mississauga and Pickering and Ajax watching midget and peewee games, which would be creepy if he wasn’t Don Cherry. During the summers he sits on his porch on Wolfe Island with a shotgun and a Molson Canadian. He’s a War of 1812 buff. He supports Rob Ford and Stephen Harper. He’s had a series of female Bull Terriers named Blue. He hates cats.

His partner for the bulk of the 30 years has been Ron MacLean, who at some point was a sports journalist of sorts, who has deteriorated into and embraced the parodic nature of his role. He is Cherry’s straight man. Cheech to his Chong. Abbott to his Costello. Wayne to his Shuster. MacLean’s job is the simplest in pro sports broadcasting. He asks Cherry about, you know, stuff, and Cherry talks about it. Or yells about it, rather. Then MacLean makes a really bad pun, and the segment ends. The only exception being the segments where Cherry talks about fallen soldiers and policemen, and then cries a bit after calling them brave and beautiful. (Seriously. The fact that Lorne Michaels hasn’t pilfered “Coach’s Corner” as a running skit on SNL is beyond me.)

MacLean should act as a voice of reason. He should be Cherry’s conscience. Our conscience. He should verbally slap Cherry across the face, knock him down a peg or eleven. Over the past few years, and notably since his very public contract dispute with the CBC, MacLean has developed quite the ego. Though he still facilitates Cherry’s insanity, he speaks with more of an air of arrogance than he did before. He refers to players and management by their nicknames and first names. He takes every opportunity to discuss his minor league refereeing.  He speaks of the game’s issues in absolutes. Worst of all, he has a frighteningly diverse knowledge of Canadian Indie rock bands, and is taken to quoting lyrics in intros. Actually, I correct myself. Worst of all MacLean enables Cherry. He is a walking talking bottle of scotch with a straw holding a loaded syringe next to an addict. He completes the parody to perfection.

Except it isn’t a parody. Padgett Powell, the brilliant American writer, once told a writing workshop I was in that a parody requires the author giving his audience permission to laugh. And the problem has become that “Coach’s Corner” is no longer amusing. The CBC has been complicit in allowing the segment to continue, in allowing Cherry and MacLean a pulpit from which to preach to the masses every Saturday night. And the sermons are racist, ignorant, ill-informed, baseless, self-serving, childish, offensive rants that have no place on television, let alone on the public broadcaster. If the CBC took the two off the air tomorrow, there would certainly be public outcry, but not lower ratings for Hockey Night in Canada. Hockey is our scotch and loaded syringe. It’s our addiction by birthright. And in its most important hour, intelligent, informed, and thoughtful opinion needs to be at the forefront of the discourse. The CBC is wasting the forum, and insulting us all the while.

The best argument in favour of the dismissal of Cherry and MacLean, is that it is hard to believe that any other broadcaster would hire them. There is no competition for their services. And if no one else wants them, why should the CBC? TSN and Sportsnet and their various properties, while certainly not perfect in their approach to covering hockey, have at least taken to hiring progressive and informed voices. Bob McKenzie, Jeff Blair, Stephen Brunt, Damien Cox, Elliotte Friedman, Dave Hodge, Bruce Arthur, James Duthie, Pierre McGuire, Gord Miller, and Michael Farber, just to name a few, are professionals. They are keenly aware of the sports flaws, as well as cognizant of its evolution. They’re not perfect. They’ve been complicit themselves in ignoring some the sports issues like concussions and drug abuse. But they’re not xenophobes. They’re not troglodytes. They’re not racists. They’re not idiots. They’re not Cherry and MacLean.

Last night on “Coach’s Corner” Cherry pushed his antiquated opinions too far. After the suicides this summer of NHL enforcers Derek Boogaard, Wade Belak, and Rick Rypien several former fighters bravely came out and spoke openly and honestly about their own struggles with the role, as well as their addictions and troubles with drugs and alcohol that they feel were brought on by having to literally fight for their dinners. It was an example of selfless and generous humility in the face of tragedy that should have been (and was by many outlets) celebrated and commended. But not by Cherry, and not by MacLean. Instead, Cherry berated the former players, called them out as it were.

“The ones that I am really disgusted with … are the bunch of pukes that fought before: Stu Grimson, Chris Nilan and Jim Thomson.”

“[They say] ‘Oh, the reason that they’re drinking, [taking] drugs and alcoholics is because they’re fighting.’ You turncoats, you hypocrites. If there’s one thing I’m not it’s a hypocrite. You guys were fighters, and now you don’t want guys to make the same living you did. You people that are against fighting, you should be ashamed of yourselves. You took advantage of that to make your point on fighting.”

– from The Globe and Mail

Anyone who has struggled with addiction or depression, or witnessed those struggles first hand, knows how difficult it is to talk about it, let alone talk about it publicly. What Cherry did was make the discussion about him. He changed the focus. He is a child who had an on-air tantrum. And at a time when pugilism in hockey and its connection to serious mental issues need to be argued by the enlightened and informed, Cherry and his partner MacLean have retarded the progress of an important discussion. The CBC needs to be a responsible public broadcaster and remove “Coach’s Corner” from Hockey Night in Canada. This is a time for serious discourse on a troubled sport, and the children need to be sent from the room so the adults can talk.

Click here for more posts on hockey.