Cool Your Jets!

By Tyler Shipley

Finding oneself a Winnipegger away from home is a condition that can shed a whole new light on the always-complicated complexion of our city.  Being immersed in Winnipeg’s daily routines sometimes made it hard for me to appreciate many of the truly special things that I continue to miss the hardest.  I remember thinking that the idea of putting a Salisbury House diner on the footbridge was utterly absurd until I hit the road and realised that most cities would have given the spot to the highest bidder – we would have had some generic American chain instead of a uniquely Winnipeg greasy-spoon institution.

And so it was with the return of the Jets, which I have followed almost obsessively despite being many miles away.  The experience has brought plenty of emotional swings and has left me closer to my NHL Live account than I ever expected.  Despite my major misgivings about the ownership group’s decision to align the franchise with the increasingly over-the-top Canadian militarism, I’m still bewitched by the idea of pro hockey in Winnipeg, and the return of the Jets has me as plugged into my hometown as any time since I left.  I’ve pledged my soul at the altar of Ondrej, dragged out my ’82 Peter Sullivan jersey and cheered loudly for the Jets in bars all across the country.

But as the crowds at the MTS Centre have dragged out a string of ever more obnoxious behaviours, it has become increasingly embarrassing to be a Jets fan in the world.

Winnipeg crowds have a long tradition of finding clever and creative ways to support their squad while delivering a good-natured jab at an opponent.  In ’79, when the NHL first deigned to let us into their league, fans showed up to the first game wearing tuxedos in a brilliant mocking gesture towards the perception that Winnipeg was a backwater that didn’t belong in the company of high-and-mighty Toronto and Montreal.  In the exciting Smythe Division series of the ’80s, the Winnipeg White Out was celebrated from St. Boniface to Stockholm.  In the 2000s, even while Winnipeg was shut out of the NHL, the ubiquitous “Go Jets Go!” could still be heard periodically at sporting events across the country.

Where has it all gone wrong?  Probably somewhere between the inane practice of booing the league’s best players and the introduction of mean-spirited taunts that have earned Winnipeg fans a soured reputation around the NHL.

Booing and taunting players simply for being talented is something that one might expect in Los Angeles or Tampa Bay where they aren’t supposed to understand or revere the game the way we do – but not in the heart of hockey country.  We shout at Ovechkin that “Crosby’s better” when we ought to be excited to see either of them in our building – and it’s worth noting that Ovechkin’s team has surged ahead of ours and is getting closer to shutting us out of the playoffs.

Remember the kid on the playground who lipped everyone off and then looked like an idiot when he couldn’t back it up?  Yeah, that’s us.  Not very flattering, and not very helpful for our team, who shoulder the added pressure of needing to back up our big mouths.

It backfires, as it did in Sunday’s crucial game against Carolina, when it encourages great players on other teams to bring their best game and put us in our place.  When Ryan Miller came to town, we chanted, “silver medal,” as if it weren’t a tremendous accomplishment to win an Olympic silver medal – one that many of our own players would have loved to be part of.  Need I mention that his Buffalo Sabres also recently jumped ahead of us in the standings?

As if that weren’t enough, one group of fans chanted the name “Lucic” as a reminder to Miller of the player who took a run at him, leaving him with a serious concussion, earlier this season.  If it’s okay to goad someone about a serious head injury, how low will we go?  I find myself cringing and wishing I’d left my Jets swag at home, and in the back of my head I worry that the next step will be racist slurs or homophobic taunts.

Even our own players are growing weary.  Tanner Glass – a middleweight fighter/winger not known for his sensitivity – recently told the press he wished the fans wouldn’t be so vicious.  The excuse that we are ‘supporting the team’ starts to ring hollow when our players have to sheepishly answer questions about our behaviour.

Most important, all of this nonsense is disrespectful to the game and the players that we apparently love so much.  We waited for nearly two decades to get back into the NHL only to become petulant and disrespectful to its best players?  If someone takes a run at Ondrej and he – like Ryan Miller – gets a serious injury, we may need to bring in a top-rate goaltender.  I doubt we’ll have much luck landing Miller – his silver medal isn’t good enough for our not-yet-a-playoff team.

My 86-year-old grandfather was a season ticket holder in the old days.  He took the departure of the Jets hard and he wagered a case of beer with my father that someday they would come back.  This winter he heroically survived major bypass surgery and now, night after night, he revels in the opportunity to cheer for Wheeler and Little (whom he calls “Teenie”) against the greatest hockey players in the world.  It is a privilege he cherishes and his enthusiastic appreciation of the game seems light years away from the childish behaviour of the booers and the taunters.

Watching from afar, I can only hope that those vocal Jets fans who are earning the rest of us such a tarnished reputation will remember that they ought to treat the game, the players, and fans like my grandfather with the respect they deserve.  Let’s just stick to “Go Jets Go” – it’s worked pretty well up ‘til now.