Georgia Straight
for March 1994, Article 2

Oh woe is me! What week I've had! Pilloried, hit with everything but the ring post, even beaten about the face and hands by my deep thinking colleague in the CKNW sports department, Neil MacRae. The doyen of the Jock Kingdom, Jim Taylor used up an entire column to excoriate me - the Vancouver Province, in the most hurtful jab of all, called me a former politician! Several people averred that since I endorse Vancouver's oldest (and best) automobile dealer that I am a "flogger of used cars".

For what sins do I earn such reprobation?

I have, it seems, erred and strayed from the path of righteousness by criticizing the media, especially the jock portion thereof.

The case of Jim Taylor et al v. Mair begins, innocently enough, in a book review I did in early 1992. The book, called Net Worth by the husband and wife team of David Cruise and Alison Griffiths, tells of the vile treatment old time hockey players received at the hands of the NHL. These were my heroes and anti heroes - Maurice Richard, Gordie Howe, Andy Bathgate, Carl Brewer - the greats of the old six team league. I remembered how then NHL President Clarence Campbell, back in 1947, had touted the new pension scheme; how the lads would all be taken care of. These were the boys who were forbidden, at the penalty of banishment from the NHL, to seek higher education. They were chattels who risked life and limb for a few bucks, damned few bucks, and a lifetime of pain.

It was clear from this book (get it if you can) that the owners had skimmed the profits off the pension fund and that these stars of yesteryear were living in penury. Rocket Richard, my hero, was relegated to sorting out fishing line for a living. Gordie Howe, my anti hero, was reduced to eking out a living by appearing at shopping mall openings and saying a few words to his many fans.

It was too much for Carl Brewer (definitely an anti hero) and a few others - they had the guts to sue the NHL.

As I read the story there was one thing missing - where was the media? Where were the stories, the outraged editorial comments about this huge injustice?

The book also tells about Allan Eagleson's shenanigans and his outrageous conflicts of interest; how he screwed Bobby Orr (everyone's hero); how he abused funds entrusted to him.

While nothing was held back in this brilliant expose, again, there was one thing missing. If the press had been quiet about the pension scam, they were positively struck dumb by Eagleson. Never was heard a discouraging word about the "Eagle" - somehow he was untouchable, a sacred icon.

After this interview, I started asking questions. How come the stories were being broken by non sportswriters Cruise and Griffiths? How come media attention to Allan Eagleson's comduct was confined to a sportswriter named Russ Conway in, of all places, Lawrence, Mass? How come he was being investigated by a Boston Grand Jury? Where was the Canadian media? Where the hell was the RCMP?

I got to know Carl Brewer (he soon became a hero) and his indomitable lady, Sue Foster. Only Stevie Cameron, a non jock, writing in the news sections of the Toronto Globe & Mail and a CBC reporter named Bruce Dowbiggan would listen to them. The jock media were tongue tied - except to attack me for asking where the devil they were in all this.

Carl Brewer and Sue Foster and other allies soldiered on. Then, finally, it hit the fan. The NHL got nailed, after an unsuccessful appeal, for $45 million dollars for skimming the profits off the Players pension scheme. And Allan Eagleson is charged with 32 criminal counts, including theft and racketeering, by the United States Government.

It became clear that the media, across the land, had been asleep. They had let their heroes - and the public - down. They were bought off by free tickets to hockey games with beer thrown in and had all been schmoozed into a catatonic state by Allan Eagleson, the All-Canadian Schmoozer.

My sin was to question the journalistic integrity of those who should have covered these outrages. For my troubles I have been badmouthed by lazy, backside kissers who let the players and the public down. None of them say I am wrong - in fact the Province admits I was right. Just nasty names for criticizing my colleagues in "journalism".

And you know what?

Being called names by that lot is high praise indeed; as high praise as I could ever hope for in this business.