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RN ob a Capris * or Tide ¥ " a Ine 2 Shr ok '° otter whe fo ig oa ay, ats St (BK Pg 8 Ip) LIT - i pac. oe a 2, reat = AAA Ss ATS ; pd Tomah: a Wn Sa Aa, rin ot FOO AED PERE BR es a Trot ved FE) re] VORA v aol "n > Sema, ¥: 2 .. SR ESCHER Ty AEN -- -- -- . ¢ : > TN a 09) 4% A . oA 7 Olympic Boycott Prime Minister Joe Clark has joined American president Jimmy Carter in calling for a boycott of the Moscow summer Olympics unless the Soviets withdraw their forces from Afghanistan by February 20. If Canada, the United States and other western nations ultimately end up keeping their athletes away from Moscow this summer, it will likely lead to the collapse of the Olympic Games as we now know them. There are many who believe that even if the present international crisis didn't exist, the Olym- pics have become nothing but a hypocritical sham, and should be either completely overhauled or done away with. The Modern Games have been tainted with politics almost since they were re-born in 1896. This reached an ugly crescendo in Munich eight years ago when Israeli athletes were murdered, and again in Montreal when 30 Third World countries stayed home to protest the fact that New Zealand had sent a rugby team to South Africa. As much as we would like to believe that sports and politics can be separated, that international squabbles should not be fought on the backs of athletes, just the threat of a boycott this year scuttles that idealistic notion forever. What is alarming is not so much the threat of a boycott by itself. It's safe to assume that the Kremlin decision-makers who sent troops to trample the Afghans, are not likely to be swayed in any way by the fact that Western countries won"t allow their athletes to compete in the Moscow Olympics. But if the boycott does come about, it will be one more serious step in the direction of a complete break-down in relations between the West and the Soviet Union. As much as the Soviet rape of Afghanistan must be condemned, as much as the West must start to look seriously at the potential military threat to world peace, it is at the same time crucial that avenues of communication with the Soviet Union be kept open. Refusing to allow athletes to attend the Olympics unless the Russians withdraw their troops could very well end up having the opposite affect on relations between the super-powers, and could shut off any possible chance of a negotiated end to the inter- national crisis. We all know that at times the United Nations can be the pinnacle of hypocrisy, but there is some truth in the words of U.N. secretary-general Kurt Wald- heim who says that if governments can keep talking editorial poge "CEE WHAT / MEAN ---- THE low PROFILES 2, PAYING OFF I" and communicating, they may refrain from firing bullets at each other. Just what the Soviet reaction to a boycott would be is anybody's guess. They might use it as a propaganda tool to garner support among Third World countries. Or they might consider it an act of hostility and become even more belligerent in their relations with neighbouring countries. What is almost a certainty, however, is that the Soviet Union is not going to back out of Afghanistan by February 20 because the West is threatening to boycott the Olympics. That is nothing but a hollow threat. If this international crisis is to be defused peacefully, it must be done quietly and throigh diplomatic and other channels, which will all but disappear if the attitudes of the two sides continue to harden. While it may be extremely tough for Canada, the United States and other countries to send Olympic teams to Moscow while the Soviet army occupies a neighbouring country, a boycott will not solve the immediate problem and may only serve to heighten the tension. There are many ways the Western nations can register a very strong protest against the Russian invasion of its neighbour. But a threat and ultimatum over the Olympics is not one of them. bill HOCKEY EXPERT Like every other red-blooded male in this country over the age of four, I am an expert on hockey. As a player, I didn't exactly make it to the NHL. Or Senior A. Or Junior A. Or Junior B. Or Juvenile C. But you don't have to make it all the way in Canada to become a connoisseur of the game. All you have to do is to have been exposed to the game since you were about three, and it's in your blood for life. As akid, I felt culturally deprived because I didn't have a pair of "tube skates'. To my great shame, I had to indulge in the sport wearing an old pair of my mother's "lady's skates' (pronounced with utter scorn by the kids with tube skates.) Mine went almost to the knee and supported your ankles like a bag of marshmallows. Obviously, that is the sole reason I didn't make it to the big leagues. As a kid, I played shinny on the river with some guys who actually, later did make it to ley pro or semi-pro ranks. When I was in high school, some of my best friends were playing Junior A. I was brought up in a rabid hockey and lacrosse town. When I was a little boy, we had a Senior hockey team. It was made up of local factory hands, blacksmiths (yes, I go back that far), and generally good athletes, of no particular rank or station in life. They played for fun. They bought their own equipment. There was tremendous rivalry with the other towns in the country. The rink was jammed for every game. We kids sneaked into the games through the place where they threw out the snow after cleaning the ice, squirmed our way down behind the players' bench, and fought each other to the bone when a senior broke a stick, and with a lordly gesture, handed it back toward us. If you were lucky, you got two pieces of hockey stick, took it home and had your old man splint it, taped it up, and played the rest of the season with a six-foot man's hockey stick practically tearing the armpit out of your five-foot frame. When I was a teenager, the home town went ape over hockey, began importing players, and iced a Junior A club. We local high school guys were devastated by jealousy when the imports, from such exotic towns as Ottawa, Montreal, Brockville, came to town and stole our girls away. We locals didn't have a chance. It was Depression times. We were lucky if we had the money to go to the Saturday night movie (two bits), let alone take along a girl and feed her afterwards. 7 But the hockey imports had everything. Flashy uniforms. Great physiques. The roar of the crowd. And money. They often had two or three dollars to throw around, so naturally, they got the girls. (Some of them are still stuck with them, ha, ha.) Ironically, about a third of those guys who made us green with envy would be knocking off eighty-five to a hundred thousand a year if they hadn't been born forty years too soon. They were good enough to make the socalled NHLtoday, but not then, when there were so few teams and so many aspirants. There were only eight teams then: Toronto, Montreal Canadiens, Montreal Maroons, Ottawa Senators, Boston, New York Rangers, New York Americans, Chicago and Detroit. There were probably just as many hopeful players. Today there are 21 or 23 or 28 teams in the NHL. Nobody seems to count them any more. Well, figure it out. Take a quart of whiskey and add a similar amount of water. Split the remains in two and add a half of water to each. What do you get? Not a whiskey with water. A water with a touch of whiskey. And that's why so many once-ardent hockey experts like me just don't bother going to games, or even watching them on TV, unless the Russians are playing, when you see a few flashes of the old-time hockey, instead of a group of high-sticking drop-outs high-sticking, slamming each other into the boards, pretending to fight by dancing ring-a-round while carefully clutching each other's sweaters so they won't be hurt, tripping, clutching, hooking, and doing everything but play hockey. Perhaps the most sickening thing of all is the great hugging and kissing and dancing that takes place when one turkey has scored a goal by shooting toward the end of the rink and having the puck go in off a teammate's stick - pure accident. It's 0.K. I don't necessarily want to go back to the days when players had some dignity, and didn't have to pat each others' bums all the time. Nor do I want them reduced to the sort of wage slavery they endured years ago. But please spare me, on the sports pages, from their constant whining, tantrums, hurt feelings, and never ending interest in the big buck. < br EAE