ESPN Archives - Media Guy Struggles https://mediaguystruggles.com/category/espn/ The Media Guy. Screenwriter. Photographer. Emmy Award-winning Dreamer. Magazine editor. Ad Exec. A new breed of Mad Men. Thu, 20 Jul 2023 05:40:43 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://mediaguystruggles.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/07/MEDIA-GUY-1-100x100.png ESPN Archives - Media Guy Struggles https://mediaguystruggles.com/category/espn/ 32 32 221660568 “Willie”, an ESPN Documentary https://mediaguystruggles.com/willie-an-espn-documentary/ https://mediaguystruggles.com/willie-an-espn-documentary/#respond Wed, 26 Feb 2020 21:33:00 +0000 He’s not the Jackie Robinson of hockey, he’s the Willie O’Ree of Hockey. “In 1958 I broke the color barrier in the National Hockey League. Every game that I played in there were racial remarks directed towards me. They would say the ‘N word’ and they would say you should be back picking cotton and […]

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He’s not the Jackie Robinson of hockey, he’s the Willie O’Ree of Hockey.

“In 1958 I broke the color barrier in the National Hockey League. Every game that I played in there were racial remarks directed towards me. They would say the ‘N word’ and they would say you should be back picking cotton and what are you doing in a white man’s game. But I just went out and played.” —Willie O’Ree, from the start of “Willie”, an ESPN documentary.

Last October the critically-acclaimed Bryant McBride and Laurence Mathieu-Leger documentary “Willie” was making its rounds on the festival circuit. Now, in celebration of Black History Month, the duo has announced a partnership with ESPN to air throughout February.

If you only know Hockey Hall of Famer Willie O’Ree from his honorary puck drops at your local NHL arena, it stands to reason you’ll be outraged by a scene in “Willie” detailing a 1961 incident against the Chicago Blackhawks where O’Ree was illegally butt-ended and racially taunted as blood spilled from his split lip and nose. He was subsequently kicked out of the game and was left at a crossroads, wondering about his future. O’Ree used his exile to the locker room to meditate on his future in the game.

(c) Stephen R. Sylvanie-USA TODAY Sports

You can see the pain on O’Ree’s face as he tries to remind us that, “names will never hurt you unless you let them.” It was during those private moments in the locker room where the first black player in the NHL decided he wouldn’t let others decide when he should leave the game—and definitely not because of his skin color. He would only leave when his skills weren’t on par with his contemporaries.

The documentary chronicles O’Ree, a hockey star from Fredericton in New Brunswick, Canada from age 15. We discover that he was a fine baseball player who got a half-hearted shot at a professional contract only to be cut due to race. We also discover he is a descendant of a South Carolina slave who escaped to Canada. At some point we discover he’s kept a big secret all of these years: he went permanently blind in his right eye after his retina shattered from a puck to the face. Even Wayne Gretzky gushes how impossible it would be for him to play with one eye. Willie O’Ree overcame everything to succeed: racism, cheap shots, and a disability.

O’Ree’s breaking of the NHL color barrier coincides will the beginnings of the civil rights movement with Dr. Martin Luther King’s words leading the narrative. It’s a tough section to sit through, with archival footage of peaceful Black America protests asking for their constitutional rights while being barked down by German shepherds, fire hoses, and blindside kicks. It is especially haunting as it is juxtaposed to Willie O’Ree’s situation and the flashpoint of racial epitaphs and taunting from NHL players and fans. It leaves you angry that a man, who by all accounts is one of the kindest humans ever created, would be subjected to such vile.

For O’Ree, playing from professional hockey from 1958 until 1980 wasn’t enough to distance himself from racism. Threats followed him even after the NHL hired him as its first diversity ambassador. The documentary tells the sad tale of someone threatening to blow up MCI Center during an event with children in Washington D.C. saying their blood would be on his hands.

We are visited by Devante Smith-Pelly, who was showered by racial slurs while in a United Center penalty box, and Wayne Simmonds who endured the humiliation of a banana peel being hurled at him while on the ice. Both point to O’Ree as their inspiration to overcome these societal horrors. Lou Vairo, Director of Special Projects, USA Hockey, confirms that, “He’s [O’Ree] inspired a generation of hockey players.” The chills start to mount as the call from Lanny McDonald of the Hockey Hall of Fame comes in. Seeing that moment alone is worth watching the documentary.

You might be able to explain some of this away if some of it didn’t happen as recently as 2018. Unfortunately racism in North America is alive and well, but with more people embracing Willie O’Ree’s philosophy of kindness and perseverance, humanity still has a chance.

For this reason alone, “Willie” is a cherished film — a long overdue, solemn big-screen documentary about one of the most important builders and culture changing pioneers of the 20th century.

How to Watch

The film will be available through the month of February on ESPN.com and the ESPN App and had four airings on ESPN2.

O’Ree’s Hall of Fame Speech 

Note: This article originally appeared under my byline on Jewels From The Crown.

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The Ghost of Marty McSorley’s Stick https://mediaguystruggles.com/the-ghost-of-marty-mcsorleys-stick/ https://mediaguystruggles.com/the-ghost-of-marty-mcsorleys-stick/#respond Wed, 30 May 2012 14:52:00 +0000 http://mediaguystruggles.com/2012/05/30/the-ghost-of-marty-mcsorleys-stick/ May 30, 2012 enters uncharted territory for Los Angeles Kings hockey.  Never before has a Kings squad entered the Stanley Cup Final as the favorite – – ESPN’s “experts” picked L.A. to take Lord Stanley’s Cup home by a vote of 10 to 3. Heck, they have only been in the Finals once. (Sheesh once? Why […]

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May 30, 2012 enters uncharted territory for Los Angeles Kings hockey. 


Never before has a Kings squad entered the Stanley Cup Final as the
favorite

 – ESPN’s “experts” picked L.A. to take Lord Stanley’s Cup home by a vote of 10 to 3. Heck, they have only been in the Finals once. (Sheesh once? Why do I waste my
time? I always say…)

Never before has a the lowest seed taken the championship at the end of the playoff. Cinderella’s slipper never fits for long it seems. The Kings are riding the momentum wave like never
before: 12 wins. Two losses. Undefeated on the road. They are making
teams whine all the way to the league office while whimpering away towards their tee times. Surely these aren’t the Kings I grew up watching. Agonizing with every
postseason overtime loss and thoughts of next year. Heartbreak at every turn.
So, today, nothing makes sense. 

Down is up. Left is right, the
moon IS made of cheese, the world IS flat, the Brad Pitt-Angeline Jolie union is universally
embraced as the undisputed reflection of how relationships should be handled in
the New America, and the Los Angeles Kings should win the Stanley Cup. You get it by now, I know. Yet, I digress once again, so I’ll
stop. But not before I face the horrors for a single game that changed my life,
ruining sports and I know them.
It was Thursday, June 3, 1993. A beautiful Montreal summer
day outside with the mighty Montreal Canadiens taking on the Great One’s
(that’s Wayne Gretzky for those of you whose nickname encyclopedias have been
misplaced) Kings at the legendary Montreal Forum.
The magic of this game was that the Kings had already taken
game one and literally cruising in game two up 2-1 in the closing minutes. 



Then
it happened.
The illegal stick.
The curve of Marty McSorley’s stick was just a quarter-inch
outside of the rules. A freaking quarter-inch! Screw it, the NHL tells the
story better: 


The rest was history with the Canadiens winning the next three
games and winning their bajillionth Stanley Cup. I swear the maintenance crew
at the Forum spent years scraping off the bits of my skull and grey matter
glued to ceiling of those hallowed hockey halls. 

“Hey Wayne? Why don’t you have more Cups?” “Uh, because of Marty…”



Why? 


Because my brain exploded
as I screamed “NO” spelled with 7,000 O’s. When Marty was out-thought
(not a hard thing to do with McSorley) by the brain trust of the Bleu Blanc
Rouge (that’s Blue, White and Red in English). 
It was then that every Habs fan in section 116 gloated knowing that the Kings would be losing that game.

It was then that Marty McSorley took his rightful place near
the billy goat, the Bambino, the cover the Madden video game, the Clipper and
every other curse that has broken the hearts of many men. 


I ran in Mr. McSorley a few years ago. My passion for sports
had long died down, but my vitriol for hockey’s nicest enforcer had not. His excuse
to the group set to tee off in front of me went something like this:
Yeah, I was there…

“Geez, there’s been a whole lot of sensationalism, actually
a huge degree of sensationalism, and I know there hasn’t been a whole lot of
honesty. ‘Did I have an illegal stick? Yes! Did I stand up after and say,
‘Listen everyone, I had an illegal stick?’ Yes! The things that have transpired
since then, I don’t think there has been a lot of honesty.”

Just like that, he explained it all away.
I wanted to punch him, but, uhhhhh, I quickly re-thought
that course of action. And I surely wish Mr. McSorley would have re-thought using a
stick he clearly knew was illegal and had to have an inkling that the Canadiens
always have the Hockey Gods on their side.
I don’t remember much really after that game.
Cut me some slack; things were very touch-and-go right about then.
I only remember that sports didn’t mean as much to me
after that. Something I was good with until this band of hockey misfits who
could bare score in the regular season sucked me in again. I dusted off my 1990
Mike Krushelnyski game used jersey and will wear it proudly through the finals.
After all, he left me with a much better memory in the Stanley Cup playoffs:

Nineteen years have passed since that game and I still haven’t fully recovered from the chain of events unleashed by the illegal stick game. I may never recover. Kind of surreal. 

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