Blurring truth, elevator manners, perils of employment. We have it all
For the life of me, I cannot figure out the intransigence most NHL teams show – and in particular the one in the city where I work ‘cause it’s the one we read most about – when dealing with injuries to players.
We aren’t telling you so shut up and go away.
Weird, isn’t it?
Not entirely sure who they’re protecting with what amounts to a disinformation campaign.
The coaches and players seemingly have to answer the same questions about the same issues almost every day – “When’s so-and-so coming back?” “How’s the old Upper Body doing?” “Why are you making this so hard on everyone concerned?”
And, seriously, I have yet to find an athlete in any sport who, during the heat, speed, emotion of a game, had the presence of mind to size up an opponent either for a hit or a foul and think, ‘hmm, is it his left shoulder? Right ankle? Lower back?” Doesn’t happen.
The “protection” such blatant disregard for the dissemination of information most fans are clamouring for simply smacks of a team management thumbing its nose. It doesn’t have to give stuff up by the letter of the law so it won’t; seems to be more about control than any medical safeguard from this view.
It’s not a huge thing in the whole scheme of things but it does rankle. A simple: Sore shoulder, maybe a week; bad back, could be 10 days; torn muscle, we’ll see when he’s ready might work a bit better, no?
Dear You Know Who You Are:
We do not want to hear your telephone conversations while in an elevator with you.
Signed, The Rest of Humankind
Right. Mail. You should send some here, please.
And I should answer one.
Q: Hey Doug! Just wondering but if you were told you could make millions of dollars a year but you wouldn't be able to pick where to live, you got to travel a lot and stay in luxury hotels, eat expensive food, have chartered flights (all paid for by your boss) and get to use state-of-the-art facilities, would you complain about your working conditions and about not being able to choose where you work?
Pissed at the Players
Brett F, Lethbridge
A: I’m not sure money, hotels or travel have anything to do with it; that’s part of the job description regardless of where your home base is. It’s the same if you’re playing in a city you love or one you hate.
But the whole thing about not being able to choose where you work is indeed a conundrum. If you were to work, let’s say, for a multi-national corporation, would you like it if your boss showed up in Toronto on Monday and said you work in Riyadh on Tuesday? Probably not, irrespective of the perks of the job.
But all pro athletes know that’s entirely possible, they knew it when they signed up and accept it as a fact of life.
Conversely, I don’t have too much of a problem with athletes in any sport wanting to be able to choose their home base (and that’s all it is, scant few actually live in the off-season where they work) when they decide where to first sign to play. Limiting those choices seems wrong to me, as long as move are made under whatever rules are collectively bargained between a players’ association and a league.
So they’ll be back at it at noon in New York today, trying to figure out what they’ve agreed to, what they haven’t agreed to and what to do to resolve this mess.
By all accounts, yesterday was a good day. They seem to have inched closer to solving some of the “system” issues that have derailed the negotiation process but there are still biggies to go and many roadblocks to get past.
Best of luck to ‘em, wake us when it’s over and we can find out when/if a season will start and how long it might go.
Hey, you gals and guys notice anything around these parts?
If you call this thing up and look over to the right, it says Doug Smith’s Sports Blog now!
Yes, the Tall Foreheads thought, rightly so, that we’ve become a wee bit more than just the Raptors and Doug Smith’s Blog About Whatever He Fancies Each Morning With Some Pop Culture Thrown In For Good Measure wasn’t graphically pleasing, or doable.
So, presto, change-o, new name.
But the same old stuff, promise. There’ll be more Raptors and basketball than you’d ever want when they get back to playing but now – tee-hee – I have the blessings to broaden horizons under a new name.
Lucky, lucky, readers.
We’ll have some other tweaks starting Monday but figured I should explain the name change.
(And I’m a tad upset only one of you pointed it out; that’s not very observant of you, people).
For some reason – mostly because I didn’t want to watch a regular season hockey game between two nondescript teams and Modern Family was pre-empted – the TV stayed set on the Country Music Awards last night.
Great show, actually, there’s some fine music there and now I sort of see what all the fuss is about that Taylor Swift person (Hi, Sienna!)
But there were moments of sacrilege, like when some group came out and sang Georgia On My Mind.
We all know this is the voice that sings that tune.
This is classic.
The due Kessler, the outside hired gun of a lawyer who works for the NBAPA, makes the most inappropriate comment of the entire lockout – the one about owners treating players “like plantation workers” – and then offers up an apology that includes an explanation that “the comments that I made in The Washington Post took place in an interview late at night Monday after a very long day.”
That ranks up there with some of the other ridiculous initial explanations or obfuscations over time:
“Someone put a murky white substance in my water bottle.”
“I did not knowingly take steroids.”
“I did not have sexual relations with that woman.”
“My dog ate my homework.”
Seriously, I just want one guy to be stand up enough to say: “Hey, I screwed up, sorry” without some cockamamie codicil that makes you laugh.