Some of the most popular climbing gyms in Montreal include: Café Bloc, in Ville-Marie; Shakti Rock Gym, in the Mile End; Allez-Up, with locations in the Mile End, Pointe-Saint-Charles, and Verdun; and Bloc Shop, with locations in Chabanel, Hochelaga, and Mile-Ex. Almost all of Montreal’s climbing gyms are lined with bouldering walls, which don’t require the use of a harness or ropes, but some also offer top rope climbing. The gyms welcome new and experienced climbers, offering day-long or week-long passes as well as monthly memberships.

An increased interest in climbing and a growing demand for climbing gyms are not phenomena unique to Montreal. The sport has been gaining in popularity since the mid-2010s, and its introduction as an Olympic sport in the 2020 Tokyo Games has only accelerated the trend. Montreal is also not the only city where queer climbers are bonding over their love of coloured plastic rocks. The emergence of organizations and community groups like Van Queer Climbers (Vancouver, BC), Queer Climbers London (London, UK), and ClimbingQTs (Australia) attest to the prevalence of queer climbing across the world.

In an article on “How climbing became a favorite hobby among queer women in China,” Nathan Wei suggests that the sport’s openness and relative newness have encouraged its popularity among WLW. A bisexual woman referred to by the pseudonym HS told Wei that “climbing is more gender-friendly than many other sports,” while another woman climber remarked that the community “has not been dominated by men yet.”

Toronto-based climber Jill Stephenson, who has been climbing recreationally for about two years, echoed these sentiments in an interview with the Daily. Not only is there “less of an established gender hierarchy” in climbing, she said, but it is also a “highly social sport” with a “very supportive community.”

Most climbers will “gladly accept new climbers into their spaces regardless of ability, skill level, gender, or sexual orientation,” Stephenson added.

Isabelle Mills, a Concordia University student who boulders at Café Bloc, noted that the looser restrictions at climbing gyms compared to other gyms and sports facilities can help (queer) women to feel more comfortable there. The lack of a dress code – not to mention the expectation that women wear form-fitting clothing to accentuate their breasts and butts for the viewing pleasure of male gym-goers – is especially freeing: “there’s no idea of what you’re supposed to look like as a climber,” Mills said.

Although outdoor climbing trips and equipment can be expensive, indoor climbing tends not to be as financially prohibitive as other sports. Simon Rouillard, one of the co-founders of Queer Bloc, a community group that organizes monthly climbing events for Montreal’s LGBTQ+ community, highlighted the accessibility of climbing in an interview with the Daily: all you need is “yourself, some shoes, and some chalk,” he said. “You don’t need that much more equipment, nor does it have to be fancy.”

Another reason climbing gyms have become such magnets for queer people, Rouillard says, is that climbing “allows us to become one with our bodies.” While he acknowledges that body awareness and body image are things we all have to deal with, regardless of gender or sexual orientation, queer folks “have had to confront and be aware of our bodies from an early age. We’ve had to be accepting of them.”

Climbing is unique among sports in that success does not depend on a particular body type. While many “problems,” or bouldering routes, may seem to favour taller climbers, there’s always more than one way to get to the top of a wall, and shorter climbers will quickly develop a knack for troubleshooting their way from rock to rock. It’s not all about brute strength, either: flexibility, stamina, and mental reasoning (there’s a reason they’re called “problems”!) are equally integral to the art of climbing.

“Anybody and any type of body can be a good climber,” Rouillard told the Daily.

The climbing communities of Montreal and other places have certainly done a lot of work to create inclusive and supportive environments, but there is still more to be done to make queer people – and others traditionally underrepresented in sport – feel welcome on the wall. Stephenson noted that “even though the climbing community is safe and supportive, it can be intimidating to enter a new space and engage with new groups.”

Rouillard cites the fear of intimidation and bullying, body image issues, and lack of confidence as factors that may deter queer people from climbing and other sports. “We have to remember that for a lot of our LGBTQIA+ community, sports haven’t always been available to us,” they say.

Both Stephenson and Mills remarked that organizing events that target specific groups can be a great way for climbing gyms to promote diversity and inclusivity. Queer Bloc is an excellent example of a group that’s doing just that for the queer community in Montreal. Co-founded by Rouillard and a friend, Daniel Baylis, the organization hopes to facilitate discussions and create connections through its monthly meet-ups.

“Our events are typically low-key but can be a bit fun with DJ sets, happy hours, and even flash tattoo sessions,” Rouillard told the Daily.

Climbers of colour are also carving out spaces for themselves in a community that has historically been dominated by white athletes. New Jersey-based Tiffany Blount launched Black Girls Boulder in 2020, and Climbers of Color has been active in Washington since 2018. Organizations like ParaCliffHangers and the Canadian Adaptive Climbing Society have also been working to make the sport accessible to people with disabilities.

In addition to holding inclusive climbing events, Stephenson said, it’s important that climbing gyms diversify their hiring practices: “having diverse administration and staff visually indicates that diverse climbers are welcome in the space.”

Rouillard suggested a few other steps climbing gyms can take to make queer climbers feel safe and supported, including: ensuring that any music played is not misogynistic, homophobic, or transphobic; ensuring that washrooms and changing rooms are non-gendered; and including a non-binary option on waivers and membership forms.

If you’re interested in attending queer climbing events and connecting with other queer climbers in Montreal, follow @queer_bloc on Instagram.

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Woo’s Early Years in Montreal 

The second son in a well-off family, Willie Woo (also known as William Woo, Woo Ching-Kooi, or Hu Zhengqu) was born on February 26, 1912 in Montreal. His  grandfather left Enping, Canton in the second half of the nineteenth century when the state was still under Manchu rule, and made his first fortune in the Australian gold rush.  

Following in his grandfather’s footsteps, Woo’s father, Woo Chong Kee (Wu Changqi), later made his way to Melbourne to run a tea dealing business. He returned to China after a decade but soon decided to leave due to the numerous uprisings and the looming threat of Western imperialist powers. After a brief venture in California, Woo’s father decided to settle in Montreal at the turn of the century. Despite barely speaking English or French, Woo Chong Kee worked hard to hawk his tea and other goods to locals, and his effort paid off. Within a decade, he had set up his own store on Sainte-Catherine Street. 

Willie Woo grew up in the Golden Square Mile, enjoying a relatively happy childhood compared to his father’s generation. At the age of 11, Woo became a member of the YMCA, the key promoter of basketball worldwide. By his teenage years, his exceptional sports talent became clear. In the 1929-30 season, he  was selected by the Montreal Central YMCA (Central Y) to play for the national junior basketball championship and led the team to the Eastern quarterfinals. Despite the team’s loss, The Montreal Gazette recognized him as the “most effective player [in the team]” and highlighted him as a “Chinese star.” Woo remained one of the most prolific scorers for the Central Y in the next two seasons and led the team to the Quebec finals in the 31-32 season of the premier men’s championship. 

Although basketball was the sport for which Woo was best known, he also  demonstrated remarkable athletic ability in American football. While attending Montreal High School, he stood out as a talented player and was once referred to as a “stellar quarte[rb]ack” by local media. When Woo turned 18 in 1930, he served as the captain of  the Montreal Westwards, the city’s football team at the time. 

Becoming a McGillian 

In Fall 1932, Woo entered McGill University and soon became an active participant in university sports. His previous experiences made him a player that “shows considerable promise,” as The McGill Daily put it, earning him the position of quarterback on the McGill freshman football team.  

In addition, Woo continued to stun sports fans both on and off-campus with his exceptional performance in his top sport, basketball. As an Arts student at McGill, he played for the Arts I team in the Interfaculty basketball league in 1932, impressing a commentator of the Daily with his “usual brilliant play” as a “stellar wingman.” Outside McGill, Woo shifted his loyalty from Central Y to play for the Montreal Notre-Dame-de-Grace Community Team. Despite the team’s 96-46 loss in the 1932-1933 Eastern finals,  Woo still “drew merited applause from the crowd” as a skilled forward. 

Apart from football and basketball, Woo’s talents extended to ice hockey and  softball/baseball. As a “hefty defenseman” for the McGill ice hockey team, he helped  McGill defeat the Loyola team in the Junior Amateur Hockey Association’s 1932 championship. He also played both infield and outfield positions in baseball and  softball. 

Across the early 1930s, Woo’s incredible athleticism across multiple sports resulted in frequent appearances  in the sports sections of Canadian newspapers like The Montreal Gazette, The Montreal Daily Star, and The Windsor Stars. Woo was so athletically versatile that the Canadian media gave him the title of an “all-round athlete.” He was the first Chinese athlete in Canada to achieve such a high level of success and renown. 

In contrast to the copious amount of information about his life on the sports fields,  little is known of Woo’s academic life at McGill, save that he once studied Chinese with Professor Kiang Kang-hu (Jiang Kanghu, 1883-1954), a renowned yet controversial Sinologist and chair of the newly founded department of Chinese studies. Woo’s brief acquaintance with Kiang would be a turning point in his life. 

“Back” to China 

     Just as Woo’s athletic career was on the rise, it was brought to a sudden halt in 1933. According to a news report in The Brandon Daily Sun, Woo’s father, blind, elderly, and suffering from the grief of losing his wife, decided to spend his last days back in his hometown, Canton. This decision resulted from advice from his doctor to move to a warmer climate and encouragement from Professor Kiang to “find his roots at the ancestral home.” Accompanying him was none other than his son, Wille Woo, who had just finished his freshman year at McGill.  

Not surprisingly, this plan was met with strong opposition from the young  Willie Woo, who by then had spent over two decades in Montreal. But eventually, Woo conformed to his father’s wish on the condition that he would stay in China for no more than six months. 

News of Woo’s impending departure soon covered the pages of Canadian  newspapers. Following his final game for Westwards in November 1933,  Woo embarked on a journey across the Pacific Ocean to China, a land in which he had never before set foot. 

Woo first sailed to Hong Kong, and then traveled to Shanghai. In China, he was  welcomed with open arms. Woo’s success in the Canadian sports scene was viewed as an honour to Chinese people, who were often typecast as physically weak and not valuing physical education. His “homecoming” thus took on a nationalistic hue (figure 3). As a  commentator of the Chinese newspaper The China Times (Shishi xin bao) wrote: 

“Given that the situation in China is becoming worse and worse, the crux of the problem lies in the debility and weakness of our citizens […] With his excellent athletic skills, [Mr. Woo] is to generously serve Chinese  sports upon his return to the country and train budding young athletes, in hope of  washing away the humiliation of ‘The Sick Man of Asia’. His ambition is indeed  admirable!” 

Bringing with him some prior coaching experience from Canada, Woo quickly established himself as a highly sought-after coach among universities and institutions in China. In February 1934, he was recruited by the Liangjiang Women’s Sport Institute in Shanghai as a general physical education teacher. Upon his arrival, the school principal, Lu Lihua, held a welcome party for Woo, anticipating that he would bring about changes to the school’s sports teams.  

Woo proved to be not only a talented athlete, but an excellent coach as well. His tutelage enabled the sports teams at Liangjiang school to progress rapidly, achieving remarkable results in a variety of sports. With only two months of training, the Liangjiang softball team was able to defeat a high school team from the United States in a friendly competition. Moreover with Woo serving as coach, the Liangjiang basketball team made history. During the team’s three-and-a-half-month tour of five Southeast Asian countries starting in February 1935, it achieved an unprecedented winning streak, dominating its 28 games against other local women’s basketball teams by wide margins. The Liangjiang team also won six victories in twelve games played against local male teams.

This was no small feat for a young all-female basketball team, whose country was  still mired in war and political turbulence. The young women’s victories left local  audiences awestruck, fueling Chinese people with a sense of  national pride while sensationalizing the entire sports scene in both China and around Southeast Asia. When the team returned to China in May, they were greeted as national heroes, hailed for their remarkable achievement and bringing glory to their country. Needless to say, Woo’s leadership and dedication as the head coach were crucial contributors to the team’s success. 

As a result of his impressive coaching accomplishments, Woo stayed in China for  a longer period than he had anticipated. In 1936, he moved to Hong Kong and began  coaching for the South China Athletic Association (SCAA, also known as Nanhua hui). The SCAA basketball team soon became another display of Woo’s aptitude in  coaching. In 1939, Woo led the team to a hard-fought triumph over the Sing Tao (Xingdao) basketball team, earning them the Hong Kong basketball championship that year. 

Over the following years, Woo worked as a physical education instructor, teaching  both English and sports in numerous institutions across Hong Kong and mainland China, notably Hong Kong University, Canton University, and Zhejiang  University. Despite his distance from North America, Woo maintained a connection with his hometown. He made regular trips to Canada during vacation periods, and in 1939 he even made a brief comeback in Montreal, playing for the city’s basketball team alongside his old friends (figure 1). 

“Back” to Montreal

The  late 1930s and early 1940s saw the steady growth of Woo’s reputation as an excellent coach within China’s sports circle. However, the Japanese invasion of mainland China and Hong Kong brought the nation into chaos and derailed Woo’s career. In August 1942, eight months after the Japanese occupation of Hong Kong, Woo fled the city to find refuge in the areas not under the heel of Japanese domination, which were collectively known as “Free China.” He lived amongst the masses under the shadow of war and was amazed by their determination to resist the enemy. While Woo’s life in “Free China” allowed him to  survive Japanese aggression during these years, it was by no means easy.  

On January 5, 1943, Woo’s  former  Central Y  teammate, Scotty Brotman, became  concerned by a letter from Woo that described the physical suffering and poverty he was facing. Not only was his health jeopardized by sunstroke, malaria, typhus, and malnutrition, but after losing nearly all his belongings, Woo could not afford to buy the clothes he needed.  

In response to his plight, a committee was set up on Woo’s behalf.  Affiliated with the Central Y and chaired by Brotman, the committee was tasked with devising solutions to Woo’s pressing needs. The Central Y established  the “Willie Woo fund,” created from the proceeds of several benefit basketball games held by the committee and a performance staged by Montreal High School. 

It was reported that Woo received around $350 in September of 1943, equivalent to $6000 today. Having endured various physical and mental afflictions, Woo eventually returned to his birthplace of Montreal in 1944. Perhaps a winding, if not adventurous, journey, Woo traveled via Kunming in Yunnan province, the Himalayan hump, Kolkata, Brisbane, and Los Angeles, all while dealing with his  declining health. 

Upon his arrival in Montreal, Woo picked up his previous profession as a basketball coach. For two years, he brought a remarkable improvement to the Sir George William College basketball team, the Georgians. In the 1944-45 season of the senior  men’s basketball championship, the Georgians went on to the Eastern finals (figure 2). Although the team was ultimately eliminated, Woo was delighted to see the achievements this local Montreal basketball had made. “We’ve come a long way in the playdowns,” Woo said after the Georgians’ victory in the Eastern semifinals in 1945. “[B]ut we won’t be satisfied until we return to Montreal with the title and let the rest of Canada know that Montreal also can produce prominent basketball clubs.” 

Residing at the intersection of different cultures, Woo always saw himself as a bridge builder, not only between Montreal sports and the rest of Canada but also  between Chinese and Canadians. Motivated by this perspective, Woo founded and  presided over the Chinese Athlete Club, one of the thirteen branches of The  International YMCA, in 1945 for the sake of “foster[ing] health-giving recreation for  Chinese youngsters in this area and to stimulate goodwill and understanding between  two races.” It was Woo’s conviction that sports, and basketball in particular, could  bridge the gaps between different races and cultures.  

Post-war Life in Hong Kong 

As the catastrophic war ended in China in summer 1945, Woo, inspired by the will of the Chinese people during his hazardous stay, saw a way to devote himself to rebuilding the country in the post-war period. In April 1946, Woo traveled back to China, and spent much of the rest of his professional life in Hong Kong, which was relatively impervious to the ensuing political upheavals in the mainland. 

In Hong Kong, Woo resumed his affiliation with SCAA, where he served as the coach for both the basketball and softball teams. He also assumed several administrative roles within Hong Kong’s sports circles, serving as the chair of the Hong Kong badminton, softball, and most importantly, basketball associations. 

As the main contributor to the post-war revival of softball in Hong Kong, Woo  acted as both a coach and an ambassador between Hong Kong and the West by  attending international softball conferences and hosting visiting softball teams from  other countries. 

As for basketball, with his rich experience and impressive track record, Woo was  once acclaimed as “the only best basketball coach in South China so far” by the Hong Kong newspaper Overseas Chinese Daily News (Wah Kiu Yat Po) in 1948. Woo proved himself worthy of this title, when his basketball team won three championships in the Hong Kong Basketball League in the 1950s (54-55,  57-58, and 59-60).  

Serving as the Chinese basketball team delegate for five Olympics and the representative for the SCAA and Hong Kong Basketball Association, Woo attended FIBA conferences in Rome in 1960 and in Tokyo in 1964. Through his frequent travels, Woo  recognized basketball’s potential for putting Hong Kong on the map and enhancing its global visibility. “People in the world knew little about Hong Kong in terms of  basketball,” said Woo after his return from Rome in 1960. “I hope one day Hong Kong can reach international competitions.” 

After retiring in the mid-1960s, Woo moved back to Canada, where he enjoyed a comfortable life and maintained his passion for sports by following NCAA basketball  games and hockey competitions. He returned occasionally to Hong Kong to catch up  with old friends and students, many of whom, including Shi Zhenda and Pan Kelian , had become established athletes. 

Chinese? Canadian? Or Montrealer? 

Like any second-generation immigrant or cultural wanderer in general, questions about Willie Woo’s identity were always present. He has been referred to in various  ways such as a “Chinese player [of the team],” “Canadian-born Chinese,” “ex-Montrealer,” and “former local athlete” by Canadian media, and “overseas Chinese”  (huaqiao) or “a member of the national community” (guomin yifenzi) by Chinese media.  To be sure, it is always tricky to say whether China was a place for Woo to “go” or  “return.” 

Having spent his formative years in Montreal, Woo identified himself more as a  Canadian in his youth: “I felt I was totally Canadian, except for the colo[ur] of my skin.” However, in an interview in the 1980s (figure 8), when explaining his rationale for spending most of his time in China, Woo reflected that “[as] much as I loved my boyhood in Montreal, I feel better being one of the majority.” 

To be sure, Woo’s Canadian culture never hindered his  commitment to fostering cross-cultural connections through sports. He utilized his ability and expertise in sports to build bridges between different cultures. He aided Chinese athletes in adapting to the local culture in Canada while introducing novel viewpoints and basketball tactics from abroad to China, using sports as a vehicle to increase China’s global exposure. Unlike George Orwell, who believed that sport “is bound up with hatred, jealousy, [and] boastfulness,” Woo dedicated the better half of his life to demonstrating its potential to promote mutual understanding.  

Woo passed away in Vancouver in March 1990 after battling cancer. In an obituary in The Gazette, Woo was hailed as “the first great Canadian-born Chinese athlete.”  Meanwhile, in Hong Kong, his contributions to the development of basketball were spotlighted in Overseas Chinese Daily News. As it is widely known that  basketball was invented by a McGillian, perhaps it is also worth remembering that another McGillian played an important role in the development of the sport in East Asia.

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For four short weeks between November 20, 2022 and December 18, 2022, billions tuned in to watch the FIFA World Cup in Qatar, with an average of 26 million viewers for the final games on Fox, Telemundo, and streaming services in the US alone. The games were set in new, refurbished stadiums constructed for the event; shots of the intricately-detailed Al Janoub Stadium, the strikingly tent-shaped Al Bayt stadium, and the glistening Lusail stadium were spliced with shots of game footage as viewers watched from around the world. The culmination of this 12-year development project inaugurated since Qatar first won the World Cup bid in 2010 ended on December 18. As Gonzalo Montiel secured Argentina’s victory in a nail-biting round of penalty kicks, the question arose regarding the now empty stadiums – what now? 

The short term costly infrastructure projects that precede mega-sporting events like the World Cup or the Olympics have been described as “white elephants” – that is, structures like stadiums that put financial strain on a city and become largely unused after the event. These investments and infrastructure projects (and mega-sporting events in general) not only put stress on local economies, but can also have adverse effects on the environment due to increased carbon emissions, human development, consumption, and waste. These stadiums are rarely used to their full capacity after the one-time tournament event, and often incur millions more in costs for annual maintenance over time. For example, South Africa spent $1.1 billion USD to build 10 stadiums for the 2010 World Cup, many of which are now unused or underused. After the 2014 World Cup, four cities in Brazil were left with underused stadiums despite the country spending $4 billion USD on building and renovation, such as the 46,000 seat Arena Pernambuco in Recife, a city that does not even have a team. Of the 12 stadiums constructed for the Russia 2018 World Cup – on which Russia spent $10.8 billion USD – only eight host top-tier matches that are generally scantily attended as the stadiums continue to incur high annual maintenance costs. 

One of the most notorious of these white elephant structures is the Olympic Stadium here in Montreal, constructed for the 1976 summer games. In 1970, Montreal won the bid to host the Olympics, with the promise of being modest in design and inexpensive to stage. Mayor Jean-Drapeau famously said that “The Olympics can no more run a deficit than a man can have a baby.” What ensued for the following six years was a string of corruption, mismanagement, fraud, security concerns, and bad weather, leaving organizers in a frenzied push to complete the stadium on time. In the final months before the games, 3,000 workers had worked in teams for 24 hours a day to make the Olympics even possible at all. At the opening ceremony, the promised retractable roof had yet to even be constructed, and in typical Montreal style, the Greek athletes who traditionally open the Parade of Nations reportedly found their way up to the stadium to be almost blocked by construction workers. The 1970 cost estimate when Montreal won the bid was $120 million CAD; in reality, the games cost 13 times as much, coming in at $1.6 billion CAD and taking the city a whopping 30 years to pay off. Upkeep of the stadium continued to incur millions for the city; for example, a fixed roof was finally installed in 1998 for another $37 million CAD, only to partially collapse under a heavy load of snow in the following year. 

Notably, organizers of the Qatar World Cup have made special efforts to prevent the tournament’s stadiums from becoming white elephants. “We have used materials from sustainable sources and implemented innovative legacy plans to ensure our tournament doesn’t leave any ‘white elephants,’” writes Hassan Al Thawadi, Secretary General of the Supreme Committee for Delivery and Legacy of the 2022 World Cup in a report on the tournament’s stadiums and sustainability. “We canvassed local communities to find out what facilities they needed – and implemented their ideas and suggestions into stadium developments and precincts.” Indeed, the majority of Qatar’s World Cup stadiums will be reduced to half-capacity; half the seats will be offered to other countries in need of sporting infrastructure. Other stadiums – specifically the Lusail stadium and the Al Bayt stadium – will be repurposed, the former becoming a community hub and the latter incorporating a five-star hotel, a shopping center, and a sports medicine hospital. Notably, Ras Abu Aboud stadium was constructed with 974 shipping containers, which will be demounted and can be shipped and reconstructed elsewhere that needs a stadium. 

Despite these considerations, the question remains whether the infrastructure’s lasting effects on the economy are truly sustainable. Qatar reportedly has spent $220 billion USD on the tournament since it won the bid to host the World Cup. While this exact number is unclear due to a lack of official reports, it is clear that a record amount of money was spent on this mega-sporting event. The cost of construction extended past the seven stadiums constructed, and included infrastructure developments across areas such as transportation, telecommunications and security, hospitality, and hotels, among others. The planned dismantling of the stadiums will additionally incur further costs. While there are indeed other non-monetary advantages for Qatar to being the host country, including the phenomena of sports washing, many are even still skeptical whether the country will see their massive investment returned. 

Furthermore, Qatar’s sustainability considerations failed to take into account workers’ welfare. Many mega-sporting events generate high “human costs,” that is, negative impacts and even casualties associated with construction and relocation. A pattern of labour abuses has been highlighted in the infrastructure projects of the 2008 Olympics, the 2014 Olympics, the 2014 World Cup, the 2018 World Cup, and most recently, in the 2020 Olympics in Tokyo and in the 2022 World Cup in Qatar. The structure of labour when it comes to mega-sporting events is often embedded in a convoluted system, involving the internationalization of labour, national versus international standards, and authority dispersed and parcelled between domestic and local governments, organizations and corporate entities. With the Olympics, for example, many different entities sign a ‘Host City Contract,’ including the Host City itself, the Host National Olympic Committee, an Organizing Committee for the Olympic Games, national governments, public and private financiers, contractors, and so on. Responsibility is diffused through this intricate, layered structure, allowing the organizing bodies to avoid repercussion for harms. World Cups are organized with a similarly structured process under the Organizing Association Agreement signed by FIFA and the host country’s football association. 

And indeed, for years since Qatar won the World Cup bid, evidence has pointed to poor physical and contractual conditions for migrant workers employed to build adequate infrastructure for the athletes and crowds of the tournament, including but not limited to stadiums, metro lines, roads, and hotels. A 2016 report from Amnesty International identified eight ways that workers building the Khalifa Stadium and the Aspire Zone were being exploited, including but not limited to expensive recruitment fees, appalling living conditions, lies about and delayed salaries, being threatened, and being subjected to forced labour. All of the workers interviewed for the report had had their passports confiscated, and many were denied ID cards required by Qatari law, therefore they were unable to leave the construction site, much less leave the country or change jobs. In 2017, Qatar introduced labour reforms, covering working conditions and a minimum wage to address the global widespread concern. Yet a report published by Human Rights Watch in 2021 revealed that migrant workers were still suffering “punitive and illegal wage deductions, and […] months of unpaid wages for long hours of gruelling work,” ultimately pointing towards evidence of forced labour. Furthermore, thousands of these workers have died over the past decade of construction, due to poor working conditions worsened by Qatar’s extreme heat. 

On an economic, environmental, and most importantly human level, the impacts of mega-sporting events like the World Cup far outlive the four-week long tournaments that necessitate such infrastructure projects. While Qatar’s World Cup may not leave behind many, if any, obvious white elephants, the huge loss of human life is what remains to scar the nation and the future of the tournament itself. 

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Earl Watson, a former Suns and current Toronto Raptors coach, is one of the individuals named in Baxter’s article. According to Watson as well as several other sources, Sarver frequently used the N-word to refer to players, justifying his use with the fact that he had heard Black players and staff use it previously. When staff, such as Watson, called Sarver out and explained that his use of the N-word was unacceptable, Sarver brushed them off and continued nonetheless.

Incidents like these were common throughout Sarver’s 17-year tenure as owner. Watson and other coaching staff also testified to Sarver’s constant beration of Black coaching staff: Sarver was known to aggressively confront coaches in intermissions and after games, clearly stepping outside the regular jurisdiction of franchise owners. Assistant coach Corliss Williamson said that an older, white male owner aggressively  confronting him, a Black man, in the coaches room carried explicit racial connotations.

Sarver’s behaviour set the tone for the rest of the organization – non-executive employees also testified to how Sarver created a workplace where racist abuse was encouraged and protected. In another incident, a white executive repeatedly called a Black employee “Carlton” (referring to the character in The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air), despite being told to stop several times by said employee. Even though racism was rampant within the organization, employees were left with little recourse in the face of such harassment. A former Human Resources (HR) employee detailed how workers were specifically told not to file complaints, and often feared retaliation from the organization if they did. On multiple occasions, including a complaint of racial discrimination raised by a Black employee regarding promotions for white colleagues, employees who raised problems with HR were soon told that they “no longer fit the [Suns] organization.” The standard consequence for reporting discrimination within the Suns was retaliation in the form of being fired, creating a place where employees’ safety, particularly the safety of Black employees, came secondary to maintaining the public image of white executives. When legal action was instigated against the organization, the Suns would settle – a former employee recounted how executives were mainly concerned with the potential of “bad press,” rather than the issue of racism itself.

Baxter’s report also provides numerous examples of an unchecked culture of misogyny within the Suns organization, enabled and enforced by Sarver. Women within the organization often either witnessed or were themselves subjected to verbal “barrages” from male executives, including an incident where Sarver berated a woman so heavily she broke down in tears. In response to this incident, Sarver only asked: “Why do all you women around here cry so much?” Many women spoke about being entirely resigned to being sexually harassed within the Suns organization, chalking it up to a feature of the work environment. This caused long-term psychological damage to the women on staff, resulting in increased anxiety, depression, and thoughts of suicide.

Perhaps one of the most alarming elements of Sarver’s behaviour is how he figures himself as the team’s owner. According to one female employee, Sarver would frequently use language such as “Do I own you? Are you one of mine?” when speaking to employees. This was a well-documented occurrence among staff, with several testifying to Sarver’s repeated use of the word “inventory” to describe staffers and players. Another former staffer said “[Sarver] likes people to know that he’s in charge. He wants control. He wants control of every situation and every person.” Sarver’s racism and misogyny go hand in hand, allowing him and his organization to assert control over those in the franchise and dehumanize staff and players while simultaneously profiting off of their labour. This should be situated within a larger understanding of the relationships between players and franchise owners in the NBA – as journalist Jesse Washington pointed out, this is a league where a group of nearly all-white team owners act with impunity while profiting off majority-Black players. Black players make the NBA and its teams what they are, generating fan involvement and billions in league revenue, all while white franchise owners create environments that encourage racist and sexist abuse of staff and players.

This isn’t the first time an NBA franchise owner has been exposed for racism and misogyny; in 2014, then-owner of the Los Angeles Clippers, Donald Sterling, was recorded on a racist and explicitly anti-Black tirade to his then-girlfriend, V. Stiviano. Sterling, like Sarver, accumulated his wealth through real estate, and previously had a racial discrimination lawsuit launched against him by former Clippers general manager Elgin Baylor in addition to several federally prosecuted housing discrimination lawsuits. TMZ’s leak of the tape with Sterling’s racist rant, in which he ordered Stiviano not to associate with Black people, resulted in widespread outrage from both the Clippers players and the league at large. NBA players threatened to boycott playoff games if the NBA commissioner didn’t remove Sterling from the league quickly. Despite resistance from other white franchise owners, who could have kicked out Sterling if three quarters of them had voted to do so, commissioner Adam Sterling sided with players and unilaterally banned Sterling from the NBA for life.

The NBA has the power to take action against franchise owners who are racist, misogynistic, or otherwise discriminatory. Since the publishing of Baxter’s ESPN report, the NBA has asked a law firm to investigate the Phoenix Suns organization. The WNBA and NBA Players Association have also reviewed the allegations made against Sarver, with the WNBA opening up an investigation of their own. All that remains to be seen is whether or not these investigations result in concrete action, or a further denial of racist and misogynistic abuse. The NBA cannot continue to profit off the labour of Black staff and players without addressing and persecuting racist franchise owners. 

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In an interview with TSN on October 27, Kyle Beach bravely came forward as the plaintiff in a sexual assault lawsuit against the Chicago Blackhawks. Beach, previously named as ‘John Doe 1’ in legal documents, filed the suit against Chicago for failing to punish the team’s former video coach, Brad Aldrich, after he sexually assaulted Beach in 2010.

Beach’s case speaks not only to the toxic culture of silence in professional hockey that enables abuse, but to a general lack of accountability within the National Hockey League (NHL). Kyle Beach was a 2008 first-round draft pick, and a part of Chicago’s team during their Stanley Cup victory in 2010. The assault that Beach described took place in May of that year during Chicago’s playoff run, and was notably brought to the attention of senior staff on the team shortly after it occurred. Al MacIsaac, then-director of hockey operations for Chicago, was informed that there was a sexual encounter between Beach and Aldrich, which Beach explicitly characterized as non-consensual. On May 23, 2010, Chicago’s senior management – their Head Coach, President, General Manager, Assistant General Manager, and Mental Skills Coach – held a meeting to discuss the ensuing course of action. For them, the decision was disgustingly simple: until they had won the Stanley Cup, they would do nothing. Senior management deliberately chose the “win-at-all-costs” logic; in a more recent interview, then-general manager Stan Bowman recalled head coach Joel Quenneville’s words during the meeting: “it was hard for the team to get to where they were, and they could not deal with this issue now.” In doing so, they decided that the health and safety of their players came secondary to taking home the Cup.

Following this meeting, senior management waited three whole weeks to contact Chicago’s human resources head – a delay “that violated the organization’s sexual harassment policy,” according to the Associated Press. During the interim, Aldrich continued to work and travel with the team. When HR finally did talk to Aldrich, it  was after they gave him the option to either undergo an investigation or resign. Aldrich chose to resign and relocate, and as such received severance pay, a playoff bonus, championship ring, and his name engraved on the Stanley Cup. In his interview with TSN, Beach recounted the impact of seeing Aldrich allowed to hoist the cup even after he had reported the assault: “it made me feel like nothing. It made me feel like I didn’t exist. It made me feel like, that I wasn’t important and…it made me feel like he was in the right and I was wrong.” There were absolutely no material consequences for Aldrich’s actions, and he went on to work as the Miami (Ohio) University’s director of hockey operations. While in this position, Aldrich sexually assaulted two more people – a Miami student who worked at the rink and a summer hockey camp intern. Following his resignation from this position (presumably related to the assaults), Aldrich assaulted a high school student while working as a volunteer high school hockey coach. This incident was investigated by the police, and while Aldrich was convicted of criminal sexual conduct and sentenced to jail time, the Chicago Blackhawks management team was extremely unhelpful in the course of the investigation. When the police contacted Chicago HR for information on Aldrich, the director refused to divulge any details beyond the fact that he had resigned. Although practically everyone in leadership positions within the Chicago organization knew about the assault, they failed to take any action. This resulted not only in the further ostracization of Beach by teammates, who Beach said knew about and commonly referenced the assault, but also to Aldrich continuing to assault people over whom he held power.  By allowing Aldrich to resign, Chicago actively enabled further abuse.

Chicago’s enabling of abuse is indicative of larger problems within the world of professional hockey. Allegations of abuse are often swept under the rug, justified by a drive for a winning team. Additionally, Chicago stood firmly behind their star player Patrick Kane in 2010 when he was accused of sexual assault. Although the complainant eventually withdrew charges, the team allowed Kane to attend training camp while he was under investigation. When the press attempted to question Kane, management insisted that journalists stick to “hockey only.” League commissioner Gary Bettman repeatedly tried to dodge questions regarding Kyle Beach from journalists during a recent press conference, and defended his decision to give Chicago a fine less than one previously issued for a salary cap violation. Bettman also allowed Joel Quenneville, the coach who failed to act on Beach’s 2010 allegations, to coach a game after Beach identified himself publicly, all for the sanctity of ‘the game’. The NHL continues to prioritize profit over the health and safety of its players, and while it claims to have concrete sexual abuse policy, this policy has yet to be seen by the public, and yet to result in an appropriate investigation and restoration process for survivors. Calls to “stick to hockey” are widely reproduced whenever players attempt to bring the toxic culture of professional hockey to light, whether it be in response to sexism, racism, or as in this case, sexual assault.

When survivors do try to come forward, they are faced with ostracization and an overall lack of institutional protection. The consensus seems to be that while instances of abuse are widely-known by teammates, coaches, and staff, this knowledge never results in consequences for abusers. In 2020, 14 previous junior hockey players launched a class action lawsuit against the Canadian Hockey League (CHL), alleging disturbing and continuous hazing rituals, including forms of mental, physical, and sexual abuse. These claims are graphic, and focus on how the CHL has perpetuated a toxic environment that condones violence, discrimination, physical and sexual abuse, all on the underage players they are supposed to protect. This is a culture that encourages and rewards silence – one where everyone is aware of the abuse that occurs without taking action against it, all because taking action might threaten the pursuit of victory. With Kyle Beach, numerous players and staff were aware of the allegations. Instead of intervening, staff delayed action, all while teammates reportedly “teased” Beach about the assault, even using homophobic slurs to further alienate him.

Hockey, particularly among professionals, puts winning above everything. Gretchen Kerr, a professor at the University of Toronto who researches athlete maltreatment, observes that the league needs to shift to focus less on winning and more on players’ wellbeing. Kyle Beach’s case highlights the deliberate choice to put the playoff win above the individual. Abuses this severe require sustained, structural change. While the current abuse reporting system within the NHL has “no oversight, transparency, or accountability,” calls have already been made for the league to see a neutral third party investigate future cases of abuse. Concrete measures that protect player safety over league profit are long overdue.

When asked about the future, Kyle Beach responded: “I don’t know when it’s going to be enough for the NHL to step in and say enough is enough and take the necessary steps and take the necessary action to make a difference and protect the players that make the NHL what it is.” The NHL has a responsibility to change, and to change now. Those in power – whether it be the league commissioner, general managers, franchise owners, or the myriad of other senior management and staff – have to stop sweeping allegations under the rug in pursuit of victory. Concrete and transparent reporting and investigation processes with third-party oversight have to be implemented to ensure this never happens again. If the league doesn’t change now, there is no question that abuses, of this kind and others, will continue. 

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This decision has been called hypocritical by USAToday: “The truth is, it’s not the mixing of politics and sports that Bach and the IOC don’t like. It’s the mixing of politics they don’t like with sports.” President Bach elaborated in his opening speech at the recent IOC Session that, “Our mission [of unity] requires that we stand against this zeitgeist of division, of nationalism and of discrimination. In fact, it is in these troubled times that we need to stand up for the values that define us.” The hosts of Burn It All Down, a feminist sports podcast, pointed out that the new rules “stifles the very voices of athletes themselves who are using [their platform] to advance human dignity.” Some of these platforms comprise politics opposing different forms of oppression, including police brutality, racism, authoritarianism, and war, as well as promoting LGBTQ+ rights, equal pay, and civil rights.

Bach’s speech makes the assumption that unity can be achieved through ignorance and “stand[ing] above and beyond” politics, a principle that the IOC guidelines hold as well. However, it is impossible to stand for unity without addressing political issues of oppression and inequality.

Bach’s speech makes the assumption that unity can be achieved through ignorance and “stand[ing] above and beyond” politics, a principle that the IOC guidelines hold as well.

Vox News described the decision as producing a “sufficiently sterilized environment” which “may violate the original spirit of the games.” Athletics and professional sports have a deep history of political statements and continue to be a battleground and a stage for political causes to this day. The Olympic playing field is no different. Bach claimed that “today, the Olympic Games are the only event that brings the entire world together in peaceful competition.” This idea of a peaceful coming together combined with a politically sterile environment is dangerous. In 2014, when Russia enacted a law criminalizing homosexuality before the Olympic Games in Sochi, protests erupted around the world, but at the games athletes remained mostly silent and protests did not make it onto the playing field. This silence created a sterile, non-political environment within the games, and as highlighted by former NBA player John Amaechi, “silence in the face of attendance in Sochi is complicity.” In response to global pressure, the IOC banned discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation.

Athletics and professional sports have a deep history of political statements and continue to be a battleground and a stage for political causes to this day. The Olympic playing field is no different.

“Our fandom is deeply irrational, […] where those energies take us can’t possibly map neatly onto party affiliation and ideological preference,” The New Yorker’s Hua Hsu explained. Sports create unity through fan communities, often established without consideration for the politics of a team, and at a young age. Mark Leibovich, chief national correspondent at The New York Times elaborated on this saying, “Athletes often constitute our earliest objects of allegiance. Staying starstruck is an indulgence of our arrested developments.” As the role models, stars, and aspirations for young children, athletes are venerated in the mind of society. When an athlete chooses to use the athletic space for protest, it’s because it means something to them, which affects the millions of fans who follow them. The Burn It All Down podcast elaborated on this, saying that, “[sports] has been a platform for people who don’t have voices in many other places.”

Politics in sports do not only apply to the professional playing field, but are influential and integral to university sports as well. Tomas Jirousek, a McGill Varsity athlete on the Men’s Rowing team, started the #ChangeTheName campaign to change the name of McGill Men’s Varsity teams, a name which comes with historical and cultural connotations as an Indigenous slur. Jirousek told the Daily that, “not only did the campaign overlap with the rowing season, but I would take the time during road trips, or while at the basin, to take interviews or consult with my teammates as to how they felt the campaign was unfolding.” The campaign took off quickly. Jirousek had planned to wear “a medallion or other [Indigenous] regalia during medal ceremonies. Unfortunately, McGill’s Men’s crew didn’t win any medals, so I never had the opportunity.”

The fraught history of politics in sports is not to be looked over, and political neutrality and sterilization on the field is not an option.

The fraught history of politics in sports is not to be looked over, and political neutrality and sterilization on the field is not an option. The International Olympic Council’s ban is a slap in the face to athletes and causes worldwide. When an athlete chooses to use their platform for protest, it is because elsewhere they are being silenced.

The post Olympic Politics appeared first on The McGill Daily.

The tournament is structured such that the first-place team from each conference is given a bid into the semi-finals. Neither McGill (10-0) in the Eastern conference, nor Brock (10-0) in the Western conference were required to play in Friday’s quarterfinals, which concluded with Trent University taking a 11-5 win over Guelph and the University of Western Ontario beating Nippising University 12-5, setting up Trent to play Brock, and Western to play McGill in the semi-finals.

After McGill’s devastating loss to Western in the 2018 semi-finals, it was clear that some serious changes needed to be made. Assistant coach Nicolas Soubry told the Daily, “The players asked for more and we gave them a lot more. We watched more film, we ran more, we worked out, we did more team events, the list goes on.” These changes were not only led by the coaching staff, but also by a strong leadership group who worked as hard as possible to realize the vision head coach Tim Murdoch had for a championship team in the 2019 season. What truly became a rallying cry for the men of McGill Lacrosse was the notion of “five more.” “Five more” means not wasting mental energy on the past or the distant future, but instead living in the moment and doing everything possible to own the next five minutes. The “five more” mindset was evident during the 2019 semi- final against Western, as well as in the season as a whole. As 2019 marked the 17th and final season for Murdoch as head coach, it was one filled with emotion. Murdoch built the McGill lacrosse program from the ground up – from a club-level team to a varsity program that can now compete with division I NCAA teams.

The semi-final kicked off at 1 p.m. in Molson Stadium. Despite the brisk temperature, the stadium was electric, with just under 500 fans attending the long-awaited rematch between McGill and Western. The game began with McGill’s Colton Campbell scoring an unassisted goal, followed by another scored by Kerian McKay. With incredible defensive performances from standout players, captain Tanner Baldin at long stick midfielder and Connor Plante at short stick defensive midfielder, Western struggled to have any productive offensive possessions in the first half. Captain and graduating senior Liam Macdonald had an exceptional second quarter potting two goals, assisted by Murdoch and McKay respectively. However, the momentum began to shift when Cody Ward of Western finally managed to get a shot past McGill goaltender Michael Gallo. Despite this, Gallo had an outstanding performance for which he was awarded player of the game. The score was 4-1 for McGill at halftime. Ward’s goal was the first of six unanswered points for Western. Even throughout Western’s productivity on the scoreboard in the second half, the McGill men stayed composed, with the defense continuing to put up a hearty resistance to Western’s advance. McGill did not go down easily, with Hunter Zawada scoring a goal with 55 seconds left to bring McGill within one. The coaching staff called a timeout as an attempt to tie the game with their final possession, but it was too late. Western went on to defeat McGill by a score of 6-5, and after beating Trent, won their 4th consecutive Baggataway Cup.

When asked about the game, Soubry admitted that “it’s very hard for me to talk about.” His frustration is due to the general sentiment held by the team that “we were very well prepared, we knew what they were going to throw at us and I think we executed the game plan very well.” However, in lacrosse there is a fine line between being prepared and being so prepared that deviation from the game plan results in complications. “Sometimes too much structure can be restrictive,” and in this case may have inhibited McGill from being “a little riskier on both sides of the ball.” Western “kept it simple, got separation and took a lot of shots” and “we didn’t until it was too late.” Despite an unsatisfactory end to “one of the most successful seasons for McGill lacrosse,” there is a bright future for lacrosse at McGill on and off the field. Soubry hopes to use his NCAA experience to “bring more of an off- season structure” by implementing team-building activities, training such as team lifts, as well as a continued commitment to recruiting players that “fit the team culture we strive towards.”

In his final speech following the loss, Murdoch drew parallels between sport and life, explaining that losing is often just as valuable, in some cases even more so, than winning.

Seeing tears in the eyes of my peers, and realizing that the time we have to be a part of something as special as sport is finite, truly puts into perspective just how lucky I am to be a part of it all. McGill men’s lacrosse will continue its relentless pursuit of academic and athletic excellence.

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Play-by-Play of the Game
During the second game of the second set, Carlos Ramos, the chair umpire for the game, issued a code violation to Williams because he had seen her coach, Patrick Mouratoglou, making a two handed gesture from the seats. Coaching is not allowed in Grand Slam events. Williams approached the chair to tell Ramos that she would never accept coaching on court, stating “I don’t cheat to win, I’d rather lose.”

By the middle of the second set, Williams was ahead 3-1, but Osaka broke her serve, narrowing the gap between the two players. In a moment of frustration, Williams threw her racquet on the ground, breaking it, and incurring a second code violation. This was a clear racquet abuse violation, and as with any second code violation, Osaka was given a point. Now the game was 3-2 with Osaka leading 15-0 in the game. Again, Williams argued with the umpire and said that he should apologize for the coaching violation and make an announcement to the crowd that she had not been receiving coaching. Here, she famously called Ramos a “thief ” and a “liar.” For this, Ramos issued a third code violation for verbal abuse and the game was given to Osaka.

It was only after Williams returned to the baseline that she was made aware of the fact that Osaka had been given a game due to the third code violation. In a moment of peak athleticism and sportsmanship, Osaka won the match by holding her serve. The two passed each other and hugged, acknowledging each others’ hard work. As the trophy ceremony began, fans booed, and while Osaka cried, Williams put her arm around her.

In an interview while on the podium, Osaka stated, “I know that everyone was cheering for her. I’m sorry it had to end like this. I just want to say thank you for watching the match.”

Uphill Climb
Serena Williams and her sister Venus are well-known for breaking boundaries when it comes to the conservative nature of tennis. From the start of her career 20 years ago, the cornrows in their hair were considered “controversial.” Even recently, at this year’s French Open, the president of the French Tennis Association was upset by Serena Williams’ form-fitting catsuit and banned it, arguing that “[Williams has] to respect the game and the place.” Williams insisted on wearing the catsuit because it helped her prevent postpartum blood clots. This decision is yet another example of the pervading sexism in the tennis world. Furthermore, Williams undergoes twice as many drug tests as other players on the circuit.

Exhausted after years of fighting against racism and sexism, she commented on the future of her career: “I hope to continue and play here again, but we’ll see. It’s been tough for me here.”

Pushing Boundaries
There has been a lot of debate around the result of this game, creating two very polarized views about the outcome. People either believe that Serena was “acting like a brat” or that Ramos’ decisions were rooted in sexism. However, the results of this match are tied to much deeper and more complex issues.
Ramos is a respected and knowledgeable umpire, but he is also known for being tough. In an interview after the match, Ramos stated, “I’m fine given the circumstances […] It’s a delicate situation, but ‘a la carte’ arbitration does not exist.” However, last year at the French Open, he called a questionable penalty for a time delay against Rafael Nadal. Nadal responded by telling him that he would make sure that Ramos never refereed one of his games again. Despite that threat being much more severe than anything Serena said, Nadal did not receive a penalty.

Misogynoir (sexism specifically directed towards Black women) has been constructed historically through representations of Black women as loud, dominant, and verbally abusive.

The Problem
Most media coverage of Ramos focus on the sexism behind his calls, but not many have emphasized the ways in which that sexism intersected with Williams being black. Misogynoir (sexism specifically directed towards Black women) has been constructed historically through representations of Black women as loud, dominant, and verbally abusive. The “angry Black woman” trope grew into what is now the clear discomfort with and discouragement of women of colour showing their emotions when they are anything other than happy.

That misogynoir sentiment is best exemplified by Mark Knight’s cartoon in the Herald Sun. In it, Serena’s face is distorted, her expression of anger exaggerated. She’s shown as brutal and aggressive, in contrast to a calm white woman in the background — a misrepresentation of Osaka, a woman of Japanese-Haitian heritage. A pacifier at Williams’ feet and the umpire’s infantilising remark “can you just let her win?” all convey the idea that she is throwing a tantrum. His piece is a good reminder of the fact that there is still a distinct lack of empathy and understanding offered towards women of colour when they express anger at the many injustices they experience.

As the pioneer that she is, Williams stated in a post-match conference, “I’m here to fight for women’s rights and women’s equality. The fact that I have to go through this is an example […] Maybe it didn’t work out for me, but it’s going to work out for the next person.” Williams’ strength is not something to be feared, but something to be revered.

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In 2016, Jesse Shofner became the first woman to make a professional team’s starting line-up while playing for the Nashville Nightwatch in the AUDL. Shofner explained, “As a female playing in a predominantly male environment, I was curious just if I could do it. If I could hold my own.” Hold her own she did, with Jim Surface, Nightwatch’s communications manager, calling her a highlight of the team’s season. “She’s what you call an ankle-breaker,” Surface says, alluding to her ability to outmaneuver other players with fast pivots. “She’s got really quick agility.” Surface went on to describe how even the competition supported her: “Most places that we’ve traveled to have given her a standing ovation. A lot of pioneer moments in this season, even though it hasn’t really showed up in the win column.”

Despite performing well for Nightwatch and generally enjoying her time on the team, Shofner decided not to try out for Nightwatch again in favour of joining women’s club team, Denver Molly Brown. The isolation that comes with being the only woman on the field likely contributed to what her current teammate Claire Chastain describes as being “kind of tokenized.” This experience and a general recognition of the AUDL’s lack of representation, has led Jesse Shofner, along with Claire Chastain, Trent Dillon, Elliott Erickson, Hannah Leathers, Mario O’Brien, Markham Shofner, and Nicky Spiva, to organize a boycott of AUDL in 2018 to protest the league’s gender inequity. The boycott mandates “that women and men should have equal representation at the highest, most visible levels of our sport,” and that supporters of the boycott “will not be playing in or attending [AUDL] games, and will avoid consuming related media and content.”

In their official statement, the organizers explain that they “agree that equal representation cannot occur without equal visibility and equal opportunities for women.” These opportunities could be equal numbers of filmed games for men and women, giving both men and women a chance to compete for compensation, or more equitable representation of both genders on social media. The organizers also believe that “by committing to gender equity, our sport will find a new path towards growth that does not inherently favor male athletes.”

In response, AUDL commissioner Steve Gordon sent a letter to the league’s players outlining a plan to “create substantial exposure for women’s ultimate.” The letter proposes producing eight women’s games (compared to a staggering 161 men’s games), a cable TV broadcast of one of those games, and further promotion of women’s ultimate on social media. The continued broadcasting of women’s games in 2019 would hinge on interest generated by the one pilot broadcast of a women’s game, and on the discretion of the AUDL’s media partner. Gordon concluded, “I hope this illustrates how serious we are in advancing women’s ultimate. In all honesty, we’d like to do more, but the reality is that we can only do so much both financially, and within the confines of all partnership agreements we are party to.” The boycott organizers were not satisfied with the proposed plan, calling it “an improvement over years past, [but] still incredibly inequitable.”

Shofner and the other organizers did not set out for a half-hearted attempt at compromise from the AUDL — they demand equal promotion of both the men and women in the sport. The boycott’s supporters have already achieved success within club league USA Ultimate, pushing the organization to renegotiate their deal with ESPN with equity in mind. The end result? An agreement that achieves full gender and divisional balance: ESPN will be broadcasting 26 men’s games, 26 women’s games, and 17 mixed games. Within the context of the club division, 17 men’s games, 17 women’s games, and 17 mixed games will also be broadcast. Changes like these lend truth to the organizers’ boycott claim that “Franchise owners and league leadership can make this change [for gender equity].”

Shofner has been essential to inciting change in the ultimate community. As recently as this month, the AUDL boycott inspired the creation of the Australian Ultimate League (AUL), a professional mixed league that hopes to cover all costs (tournament, travel, equipment fees) for, and eventually pay, its all-star mixed gender players. Furthermore, franchise owners affiliated with AUDL from Nashville, Detroit, Indianapolis, Seattle, and San Francisco are now pushing for gender equity by creating their own women’s and mixed teams.

To support Jesse Shofner and the AUDL boycott, the organizers have released a list of ideas on how to uphold the boycott’s ideals:

1) Continue the boycott and demand a response from the AUDL league leadership

2) Think critically about participating in AUDL affiliated endeavors

3) Continue the conversation around gender equity

For further information listen to Upwind Ultimate’s podcast, the Offseason Episode: Gender Equity & the #AUDLBoycott. It features ultimate players and commenters Aly Heath, Ryan Anderson, Robyn Wiseman, and Jenna Weiner, who discuss what Gender Equity means, what it looks like, and why the AUDL Boycott is important for the growth of the sport.

Supporters of the boycott may also sign the petition here: https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSe3PexYFmzXta1Maz-IcXrqlc5b2WU-hm1EMJaTxBQVz87f5A/viewform

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North Korea’s partnership with South Korea in the Winter Olympics has been perceived as a possible détente between the two Koreas amidst escalating tensions. Michelle Cho, a Korea Foundation Assistant Professor in the Department of East Asian Studies at McGill University, interprets North Korea’s participation as an attempt to step away from isolation towards integration with the international community. “The motives for joining this Winter Olympics are pretty straightforwardly to reduce tensions. […] It’s an effort on the part of North Korea to maintain its autonomy but still integrate itself a bit more. The image [of North Korea as an isolated country] is overstated, [and comes] from the North American perspective,” said Cho.

Among the North Korea delegation was supreme leader Kim Jong-un’s younger sister Kim Yo-jong, and North Korea’s elder figurehead Kim Yong-nam. Cho believes that North Korea made an important gesture in choosing a delegation of officials that spanned old and new generations. “I think [Kim Yong-nam’s] presence is meant to inspire feelings of fraternity, and [cater to] the older generation in South Korea, who care more about reunification because they have memories of a unified Korea, or they have family members [in North Korea],” said Cho.

However, North Korea’s participation in the Olympics could also be interpreted as an attempt at political gymnastics to increase international approval for its regime, according to T. V. Paul, a McGill University professor of International Relations: “North Korea did a very smart thing […] [It] did what other countries have done, which is charm offensive, diplomatic offensive, soft power […] so it’s a very clever, calculated move. But it may not last long.” He added that another important aspect of the Olympics is personal contact: “It is an extraordinary show, because here you have people-to-people contact, [which is usually] very poor; you don’t have families visiting [..] so it’s an extraordinary symbolic act.”

Responses to the North Korean delegation are mixed among the people of the host country. Although many enthusiastically welcomed the hundreds of performers, athletes, and cheerleaders in the North Korean delegation, some were wary of possible hidden motives and remain unconvinced of a North-South rapprochement.

A reason for such jadedness could be that North-South relations have always been dependent on the political climate. In 1998, South Korean President Kim Dae-jung announced the Sunshine Policy towards North Korea, which aimed to mitigate the gap in economic power and to restore lost communication between the two nations. However, some criticised South Korea for maintaining a cooperative policy towards the North while provocative acts such as nuclear and missile tests occurred.

The Sunshine Policy was formally abandoned by South Korean President Lee Myung-bak in 2010, and throughout his and Park Geun-hye’s presidency, North-South tensions deteriorated to those of the Cold War-era. Since the 2017 presidential election, newly elected President Moon Jae-In has been actively pushing for denuclearization by conducting joint US-Korea military exercises and supporting United Nations Security Council sanctions against North Korea for its nuclear program. At the same time, he has promised reconciliation and dialogue with the North. His decision to allow athletes from both sides of the border to march under the Korean Unification Flag and to play as a joint women’s ice hockey team has been criticized as “pandering” to North Korea.

North Korea’s participation in the Winter Olympics has been controversial from the start. Initially, international news outlets such as CNN, BBC, and ABC reacted positively to the arrival of the North Korean delegation, but that reaction was immediately met with backlash from other media outlets, who accused them of adding fuel to North Korea’s media campaign. Others have criticized the International Olympic Committee for allowing a nation rife with human rights abuses to compete.

“I think that it’s pretty characteristic of the function that North Korea plays in Western media because they’re always being reported on in these extreme terms. It’s very hard to find a moderate perspective on North Korea; although those kinds of stories exist, [they’re] in specialist papers or in academia. So if you just go by North American mass media, it’s very polarized,” said Cho.

Historical amnesia also plays a part in the common depiction of North Korea as the ultimate evil in media, without regard for the responsibilities of other countries in creating this standstill. According to Cho, those who see the United States as a benevolent superpower forget that the United States’ previous attempts to contain North Korea had left behind a blazing trail of problems, including great loss of Korean civilian lives and the creation of a military dictatorship in South Korea. She explains, “A lot of Americans think of North Korea as fickle; or they don’t understand the motivations behind North Koreans’ animosity towards the U.S. And it’s because they don’t know anything about the Korean War; they don’t realize that the American military […] bombed North Korea for three years and destroyed everything and all the existing infrastructure, and killed many people.”

Recent North Korean diplomatic relations have been as unpredictable as before the Olympic Games, if not moreso. In his New Year’s Day speech, Kim Jong-un announced suddenly that he was ready to “melt the frozen North-South relations.” However, this in no way suggests a positive development in international relations. The Trump administration’s lack of commitment to diplomacy is also not conducive to building a trusting relationship. Threats of military strikes, isolation tactics, and diplomacy often come at the same time, sending mixed messages to North Korea. Paul believes that there is no quick solution to rising tensions.

Sports events have long been an outlet for international relations. From serving as propaganda for the Nazis in 1936 Germany, to playing a part in dismantling apartheid in post-war Africa, to fostering diplomacy between the U.S. and China through ping-pong, major sports events have been an important diplomatic tool, for better or for worse. Cho believes the Winter Olympics have been beneficial in alleviating international tensions.

“I think that it’s been very helpful to have this event to occur at this moment of escalating tensions. Who knows what will happen with the U.S., but I think the U.S. needs to step back a bit because the global public opinion has been swayed a bit, even though there are still a lot of skeptics […] It happened at a good time, and it has been reassuring for a lot of people, myself included, that North Korea is interested in de-escalating,” said Cho.

While a thaw in relations can be encouraging, one-off events like the Olympics can only benefit international relations if countries are willing to follow up with peacemaking efforts, according to Paul: “It is an important step, if it is followed through, so that is the sub-clause you have to put there. It has to be followed through with steps, concrete steps, which will mean more engagement with other forms of official and non-official NGOs, people-to-people contacts, and trying to have a diplomatic engagement.”

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The winter of grade six, however, also introduced me to what is now my favourite winter sport—ice dance. While it is similar to pairs figure skating, ice dance is derived from ballroom dancing. Quite literally, it is a couples’ dance routine on ice. This, of course, filled my 12-year-old theatrical heart with a newfound love. Ice dance is divided into two events: short dance and free dance. They are differentiated by their use of dance patterns and rhythms—another aspect I loved. In short dance, routines include a required dance pattern and a required rhythm (such as samba, rhumba, waltz, cha cha etc.), while free dance allows dancers to choose their own routine, encouraging creativity. Additionally, in all programs, the skating move of a ‘twizzle’ (a one-footed spin, done in unison and travelling across the ice) is mandatory, while throws or jumps are replaced by lifts. Dancers must also remain relatively close to one another throughout the program.

On top of all this, there is typically an emphasis placed on the theatrical narrative and the characters portrayed throughout the dance in the dancer’s moves and their facial expressions. This means many skaters chose to dance to musical theatre standards. It also means the costumes are designed to evoke a program’s theme, plot and characters. This sets the stage, or rather, the ice, for absolute drama—a show, if you will. In many ways, ice dance is musical theatre on skates.

I can vividly remember Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir winning their first Olympic gold medal at the Vancouver 2010 Olympics in my hometown. Here they were, two athletes with a passion for the theatrical. I had chosen theatre over athletics, but here was a whole olympic event full of people who had done both. I was speechless. No other sport filled me with the same sense of beauty, made me tear up, and wowed me both physically and artistically.

After 2010, I was hooked. I followed Virtue and Moir’s 2013-2014 season leading up to the 2014 Sochi Olympics. I watched their television show Tessa and Scott, researched ice dance, and familiarized myself with their (and their competitors’) programs. Their silver medals in 2014 broke my heart. The first time I ever skipped school was in grade ten, after watching them miss out on gold. My best friend and I headed to Starbucks after lunch period, bought hot chocolates and scones, and (with tears streaming down my face) we re-watched their programs. Thinking they were retiring, I too, retired my fandom for the next four years.

Upon learning Virtue and Moir would return to PyeongChang, I immediately began doing catch up research. Yes, they are fan and judge favourites, but something about their presence on ice keeps their fans on our toes. In their PyeongChang 2018 Olympic performance, they set a world record (on International Skating Union grading scales), scoring 83.67 with their short dance. Their free dance, however, did not score as high as the French dancer’s Gabriella Papidakis and Guillaume Cizeron’s program to Moonlight Sonata (a score of 123.35, also a world record). Despite earning a second-best score in the free dance, Virtue and Moir won their second gold medals because of their combined score. Virtue and Moir’s free dance was, in my opinion, the most innovative and captivating skate of the night. Their free dance routine this 2017-2018 season has it all: the music is from Moulin Rouge, an acclaimed modern musical, the dancing is feverish, and it is extremely sexually charged—one lift needed to be toned down before the Olympics, as it was too ‘suggestive.’ Their record-breaking combined score of 206.07 (short and free dance scores together) has made them not only the most decorated ice dance team of all time, but a source of inspiration for athletes and artists everywhere.

Ice dance is one of those rare places where art and sport intertwine. Covered in sequins, dolled up in stage makeup, ice dancers bring together athletics and theatre in a way that is gold medal—and Tony Award—winning. Never in my life did I expect that my knowledge of musical theatre would be an asset in watching a sporting event, and yet, somehow, dreams have come true. If stage presence gets you to the Olympics, never again let your grade six volleyball coach tell you sports and theatre don’t ‘go together’—ice dance proves that wrong.

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I learned that there were, in fact, many women playing shinny in Toronto. A heavily regulated schedule at most rinks stipulates playing times for different age groups, and many times when rinks are reserved for women to play. Toronto’s shinny programming is regulated to ensure that everyone gets a time to play. It is also far- reaching: in Toronto there are 53 artificially cooled public outdoor hockey rinks—the most in the world. In Montreal, there are 275 public rinks. However, the vast majority of these rinks are composed of natural ice, so they are sensitive to the air temperature and can easily freeze or melt. The boroughs in which the rinks are found are in charge of building them and maintaining them. Maintenance includes putting up boards, watering the ice, clearing it of snow, and recovering the surface after a warm spell. The more laissez-faire approach to rink building in Montreal is also present in its shinny programming.  Surveillants are rarely on site, meaning that regulations are only loosely enforced. The player-driven, self-regulated nature of shinny is healthy in Montreal. The games are fast-paced and high-level, despite the lack of referees or a scoreboard.

Unfortunately, this can also mean that not every hockey player finds the same joy in playing shinny. Ella Hough, a first year student at McGill said: “I’ve never actually played shinny mostly because I’m intimidated about different skill levels.” The nature of shinny does sometimes lend itself to an intimidating atmosphere. In open shinny, as in hockey, a game is often prone to becoming dominated by men, leading many women to feel unwelcome at the rink. In my two years of playing shinny in Montreal, I’ve only rarely played with women. For young people too, joining in a game can be intimidating. “When there a lot of older people there, sometimes the game is too intense,” says David, a thirteen year-old hockey player from Montreal. The free attitude towards shinny means that there are few times reserved for different groups. The lack of surveillants, too, means that even if there were times reserved for different groups, the reservations would be difficult to enforce. Perhaps the structures that were in place to make women feel welcome in organised hockey are what is missing from Montreal’s shinny scene.

However, more regulation is not always better. The games in Montreal are generally more fun. Less regulation means not having to wear a helmet, playing whenever one wants, and generally feeling that worry-free sensation that is crucial to shinny. On the other hand, Toronto’s regulation-heavy shinny system means that more people feel encouraged to play, and safety takes precedence. Specified times for women, young people, and programs for at-risk youth mean that all levels of players can join in. As a game, shinny remains the best way to play for me, and many others. It is free, enjoyable, and outdoors. I’ve met many former teammates from my organised hockey days here in Montreal. Whether we’re playing at Jeanne-Mance after school, or back home in Toronto during the holidays, shinny is a way for us to reconnect.

Shinny, then, is an interesting game: one that is essentially rule-less, relying instead on an understanding between players that the ultimate goal is to have fun. Often, though, talented players are discouraged from joining in due to that fragile understanding. A lack of regulations means that women and newer players can feel unwelcome. The lack of rules is both essential and detrimental to the game of shinny. It is important to find that balance, whether in a single night’s game or in the entire layout of a city’s rink programs. For now, shinny in Montreal remains crucially free of regulation, but it is also important to notice how that lack of regulation can hinder some players’ eagerness or ability to join in.

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Throughout sports history, the majority will often root for the underdog. We portray the favourite as an oppressor, a force that does not operate by the same rules as the rest of the world. This is only too true in the case of the New York Yankees. The Yankees were deemed the “Evil Empire” throughout the early 2000s, because of the ways they went beyond what other Major League Baseball (MLB) teams could do, such as using lavish contracts to tempt away local stars. What is confusing about the widespread loathing of the Yankees, however, is the way that this loathing was not directed at the players. Yankee players like Derek Jeter, Andy Pettitte, and Jorge Posada were adored. Instead, it was the owners of the team, Brian Cashman and the Steinbrenner family, who were seen as the external oppressor. The sports world’s dislike for the Yankees was obvious when the Arizona Diamondbacks won the 2001 World Series in the bottom of the ninth inning with a hit from Mariano Rivera, immortalizing this moment as a blow to the overarching “evil” nature of the Yankees. In this Yankees example, was it the ownership that created the ‘oppressor’ dynamic, resulting in fans rooting for the underdog, or did the onus still fall on the players? Why did a neutral fan base root against star player Derek Jeter? They did, and it is in part due to the narrative that the sports media fosters around underdogs.

Media is really what drives the underdog narrative. They stand to gain the most from creating a story in a playoff series where there is none, as they can churn out articles, increase viewers/listeners and appeal to audiences outside of the two regions whose teams are being represented. This year’s Super Bowl is a prime example of the sports media needing a narrative and pushing the idea of an underdog where it really does not exist. Throughout the playoffs, the Philadelphia Eagles were cast as an underdog, despite being the number one seed in the National Football Conference (NFC). When their starting quarterback, Carson Wentz, was injured, their backup was Nick Foles, who led the League in touchdowns only three years ago. The Eagles also had recently traded for a great running back, Jay Ajayi. Finally, and in spite of all the talk about their ineptitude, the Eagles won the Super Bowl. Yes, they faced adversity, but were the Eagles actually at such a disadvantage in the game against the Patriots? As demonstrated by their 8-point defeat of the Patriots, the Eagles’ label as underdogs was not entirely deserved.

The Patriots’ Tom Brady was picked 199th overall in the 2000 National Football League (NFL) draft. He was taken to be a backup for Drew Bledsoe, a high quality starting quarterback for the Patriots. Only once Bledsoe was injured did Brady take over, leading the team to a Super Bowl victory over the St. Louis Rams. In 2001, Tom Brady was the ultimate underdog. Now, he is the personification of a drab, dominant sports force. He has the exact same style of play as he did in 2001, and is still an absurdly boring athlete. Brady is universally both loathed and respected: for headlining a boring franchise’s boring quest for more championships, and for eliminating the hopes of upstart franchises along the way. It’s not that Brady is a gloating winner, it is moreso that he represents stagnancy in sports. His coach, Bill Belichick, is a domineering football maven that has ties to Donald Trump and conservative advocacy groups. Quite literally in the case of the Patriots, the favourite  represents the oppressor and their conservative, stagnant ideals.

The Yankees, the Patriots, and the Lakers are the American dynasties of our era, and all employ similar tactics to win. They amass the free agents, get the best out of underperformers, and win, over and over again. In many fields, such success would warrant respect, but the sports world takes a different approach. Sports means a great deal to many people, and I believe that at its heart it signifies the unpredictability of life. No matter where the ball rolls, something can happen; someone can turn a defeat into an impossible victory and rescue the average person from mundanity. People wish for an aberration. We want teams that were bad last year to win this year.

The everyday sports fan has nothing in common with anyone in a professional sports league. They work five days a week, doing effectively the same thing every day and they are not an athletic demigod. To us, sports symbolize that there can be a deviation from the norm. The underdog is, paradoxically, a less risky choice to root for than the favourite. If the underdog wins, the fan is extremely pleased as the odds have been defied. If the underdog loses, there is no great shock, and the fan’s knowledge of the game remains unchallenged.

Why do people believe in underdogs? Everyone on the grand stage of sports was a star at some point in their life, and the lowest of the low in a Big Four league are still dominant in any other league. For the media, creating an underdog allows a proliferation of content and something for their anchors to discuss. For the teams, it allows them a measure of fandom their ownership and players may not warrant. For the fan, it is a manifestation of their dreams, of their desire to resist an oppressor, and provides a method for coping with loss. Looking at statistics, there usually isn’t much separating our beloved underdog from the hated favourite. Professional sports are balanced, more than we care to think or the leagues want to admit. Unlike in dogfighting, these teams are usually on a level playing field, and when there is a dog truly on top of another, it probably deserved that spot.

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The 2008 Wimbledon final is widely considered the greatest tennis match of all time. It was the second longest grand slam final ever, obviously exciting in and of itself, but I think its reputation derives more from what it represented in the context of the Federer–Nadal rivalry. Its significance, and my disappointment when it was over, were one and the same. That is, the match acquired a legendary status because in winning, Nadal brought an end to the most dominant phase in Federer’s career and arguably the single most dominant four-year display of tennis ever. Watching Federer lose 9-7 in the fifth set was disappointing because it made me feel like I had missed a once-in-a-lifetime display of excellence: I had missed the golden era of Roger Federer, in which he won eleven of sixteen grand slams and held the number one world ranking for a record 237 consecutive weeks.

Nadal’s 2008 Wimbledon victory changed the landscape but not, as I was drawn to believe, for the worse. As Federer’s best years came to a close, the “Big Four” was born, and excellence in the men’s game was subsequently shared not only with Nadal, but also Novak Djokovic and Andy Murray: in the past decade, all but five grand slam men’s singles events (and every Olympics) have been won by one of these four athletes. The tight competition within the Big Four, along with the consistency they have given to the tennis season year after year, has been a captivating narrative to follow, one that some have dubbed a “Golden Era” and one that I have to admit is probably more interesting than Federer’s own golden era. A familiar cast of characters makes any sport more interesting to follow, but especially a sport without fixed teams to rally around: tennis’ Big Four is baseball’s Red Sox–Yankees, or hockey’s Leafs–Habs. In the world of individual sports, it’s boxing’s Joe Frazier–Muhammad Ali. My wish for Federer to have won the 2008 Wimbledon final is like wanting Lebron James to sign with the Golden State Warriors: both would extend transcendent sports streaks but competition is obviously more fun, so long as some sort of narrative keeps the stakes high, whether that’s four players trading grand slam victories or two teams competing in three straight National Basketball Association finals.

Two weeks ago, Federer won his 20th grand slam. This victory is the most recent in a period of unexpected resurgence for Federer and for Nadal. If I didn’t know better, I might be convinced that 2017 and 2018 are an alternative timeline in which 2007 and 2008 are being repeated with slightly different outcomes. My disappointed kid self, convinced that he had missed Federer’s greatness, would never have seen this one coming.

This period of resurgence is more than a dose of nostalgia. It’s also a testament to their longevity as professional athletes, especially in Federer’s case. Continuing to win grand slam singles titles in your early 30s is rare. At 36, Federer has reclaimed a level of excellence we haven’t seen since he was 28, and he seemed old by tennis standards even then. But Federer’s longevity is not unparalleled. Ken Rosewall won two grand slams in the 1970s at the ages of 36 and 37. Among Federer’s contemporaries, there’s the even more impressive case of Serena Williams, who has won ten grand slams since turning 30 and will hopefully return in top form after taking a year off to have a baby.

Unlike the women’s game, however, the men seem to have been engaged in an unorthodox relay for some time: Federer and Nadal passed the baton to Djokovic and Murray, but now seem to have taken it back for a victory lap. This relay is largely a function of their relative health: Federer and Nadal may not have been able to win the past five grand slam tournaments, if not for the injuries suffered by Djokovic and Murray. Going forward, the relay will be determined by the Big Four’s relative longevities, all having reached 30: it seems as though they will have to pass the baton on rather than have it taken from them by a new generation, who may well have also watched the 2008 Wimbledon final as children and thought, somewhat naively, that Federer’s days were numbered and their own time was nigh. For now though, 36 is the new 26, and 2018 the new 2008. And most importantly, at least for my 12-year-old self, Federer seems poised to continue serving aces for some time.

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