"Brandon Wheat Kings Season Ticket Holder (7 yrs)"
Brandon, MB • Canada • 19 Years Old • Male
James Duthie - Brilliant Article
Posted 9:12 AM ET | Comments 9
(Note: Taken from James Duthie's blog at TSN.ca)
I thought this was a wonderful article from James Duthie at TSN.ca, it really hit close to home. He wrote this in 2001, after the September 11th attacks. I thought you should all read it, and how it will still hit close to home 6 years, and 1 day after.
(From 2001... In memory of one of the most tragic events in recent history we present the column James wrote about the people lost six years ago on September 11th)
We, in sports, seem determined to attach a number to everything, and the nightmare of September 11 is no different.
The "Sports World", this imaginary bubble we supposedly live in, lost L.A Kings scouts Ace Bailey and Mark Bavis.
Two.
A neat, tidy death toll, perfect for the tickers at the bottom of the screen.
But wrong.
We also lost:
Soccer moms, and Little League dads, and big sisters who became corporate bigwigs, but could still whip you at 21 when they came home for Thanksgiving.
We lost star shortstops from the corporate softball league, and secretaries who didn't play, but always brought the oranges, and cheered like you were Derek Jeter.
We lost 11 year-old boys who could have been the next Jordan or Gretzky, and four-year old girls who could have been the next Mia Hamm or Venus Williams, not to mention whom they could have become in the real world.
We lost fans.
We lost Mets fans and Yankees fans and fans who couldn't stand either, which was a damn brave stance in New York.
We lost Jets fans who'd always go to the game with the same three buddies, each shirtless with a big green painted letter stretching from navel to neck. And no matter how cold, they'd remain skin to the wind, screaming: "J-E-T-S, Jets!" Even when it was 21-3 Colts.
We lost bosses you couldn't stand, until they invited you to the box at the Rangers game and you both wore your Messier shirts, and forever bonded.
We lost girlfriends who left you alone on Sunday afternoons in the fall, or better yet, sat right next to you and cursed like a convict when Kerry Collins threw a pick.
We lost guys from the mailroom who'd spend a couple of days wages to sit in the nosebleeds with their girl at a Knicks game, and traders in Boss suits who'd spend a couple grand to impress a model with courtsides. But they'd cheer just as wildly. New York has great fans.
We also lost Red Sox fans, Bruins fans, Patriots fans, Capitals fans, Redskin fans, Wizards fans, and probably at least a fan or two for every team out there. Even the Bengals.
We lost fathers who'd take you to Mini-Putt and blow a six-inch gimme on 18 every time to lose by one, so he'd have to take you for ice-cream yet again.
We lost mothers who somehow found time to run households with a bunch of kids, corporate divisions with hundreds of employees, and marathons in under four hours.
We lost Grampas who took you out for your first round on a real course, and pretended they didn't see when you teed it up on the fairway.
We lost coaches who'd work 60-hour weeks, and then spend their Saturdays trying to teach six year-olds to stay in position, and not all chase the same ball.
We lost entire lines from the Firefighters Shinny League.
And you know what the saddest part of all is?
Sport was just a tiny part of who these people were.
We lost all of them.
I thought this was a wonderful article from James Duthie at TSN.ca, it really hit close to home. He wrote this in 2001, after the September 11th attacks. I thought you should all read it, and how it will still hit close to home 6 years, and 1 day after.
(From 2001... In memory of one of the most tragic events in recent history we present the column James wrote about the people lost six years ago on September 11th)
We, in sports, seem determined to attach a number to everything, and the nightmare of September 11 is no different.
The "Sports World", this imaginary bubble we supposedly live in, lost L.A Kings scouts Ace Bailey and Mark Bavis.
Two.
A neat, tidy death toll, perfect for the tickers at the bottom of the screen.
But wrong.
We also lost:
Soccer moms, and Little League dads, and big sisters who became corporate bigwigs, but could still whip you at 21 when they came home for Thanksgiving.
We lost star shortstops from the corporate softball league, and secretaries who didn't play, but always brought the oranges, and cheered like you were Derek Jeter.
We lost 11 year-old boys who could have been the next Jordan or Gretzky, and four-year old girls who could have been the next Mia Hamm or Venus Williams, not to mention whom they could have become in the real world.
We lost fans.
We lost Mets fans and Yankees fans and fans who couldn't stand either, which was a damn brave stance in New York.
We lost Jets fans who'd always go to the game with the same three buddies, each shirtless with a big green painted letter stretching from navel to neck. And no matter how cold, they'd remain skin to the wind, screaming: "J-E-T-S, Jets!" Even when it was 21-3 Colts.
We lost bosses you couldn't stand, until they invited you to the box at the Rangers game and you both wore your Messier shirts, and forever bonded.
We lost girlfriends who left you alone on Sunday afternoons in the fall, or better yet, sat right next to you and cursed like a convict when Kerry Collins threw a pick.
We lost guys from the mailroom who'd spend a couple of days wages to sit in the nosebleeds with their girl at a Knicks game, and traders in Boss suits who'd spend a couple grand to impress a model with courtsides. But they'd cheer just as wildly. New York has great fans.
We also lost Red Sox fans, Bruins fans, Patriots fans, Capitals fans, Redskin fans, Wizards fans, and probably at least a fan or two for every team out there. Even the Bengals.
We lost fathers who'd take you to Mini-Putt and blow a six-inch gimme on 18 every time to lose by one, so he'd have to take you for ice-cream yet again.
We lost mothers who somehow found time to run households with a bunch of kids, corporate divisions with hundreds of employees, and marathons in under four hours.
We lost Grampas who took you out for your first round on a real course, and pretended they didn't see when you teed it up on the fairway.
We lost coaches who'd work 60-hour weeks, and then spend their Saturdays trying to teach six year-olds to stay in position, and not all chase the same ball.
We lost entire lines from the Firefighters Shinny League.
And you know what the saddest part of all is?
Sport was just a tiny part of who these people were.
We lost all of them.
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19 The Peca Factor?
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We lost our innocence, we lost lost a landmark, we lost our minds.That day even the jets/giants rangers/isles fans had something in common, the agony of watching the towers fall
Kudos for the reprint.
Great article. I'm with regwald, thanks for the reprint or I may never have read it.
Thank you for posting that - I had not read that at the time...but it certainly hits home.
James is a great guy and a talented writer. Thanks for the post.
Very nice article.
I hadn't read that one Dags...glad you found it and put it up for us. Puts things in perspective
me too - thanks...
That event showed me how unimportant sports is. Everything stopped and it was the right thing to do. That event really revealed the character New Yorkers have and also showed us how people can come together at the roughest time.