The glory days. * * * * * Well, it happened: NHL hockey is returning to Winnipeg. How sad. I remember when 'it happened' in reverse, in 1996 -- when they took the team away. I was living in Winnipeg then, and the sweeping feeling was that this was a very bad thing, this thing that was happening. Happening to Winnipeg. Poor Winnipeg! Like a tornado or a hurricane or a flood or a plague. Like Delilah and the Philistines, that kind of Biblical betrayal. And so all sorts of guys threw together all sorts of rescue plans, and held all sorts of rallies, and little kids offered up their piggy banks, and wept tears they could not possibly understand. And the team moved anyway. And all this was sad on a number of levels. Not least of which was its passive quality. Because it really was happening to them : some business guys (those philistines!) making a business decision and moving the team to Phoenix. Because professional sports is a business. Because professional hockey players --
Draw things, paint things, write things, make things.