It seemed like we had all the time in the world until, sadly, there wasn’t nearly enough of it.
Pete Paczko and I spent many a leisurely, lengthy lunch-hour on the outdoor patio at the Bar Willow Eatery, overlooking the Wascana Marina, in the company of our prized hounds — Candy and Frank.
We tried to schedule the sessions for slower days and yakked merrily away for an hour or two … or three.
Undeterred by Saskatchewan winters to which we had long been inured, we would sit in an outdoor bubble and often be the only customers as the heaters whirred, full blast. January and February never felt so comfortable.
We seldom discussed weighty matters, even as Pete waged a determined, up-and-down battle with liver cancer.
We preferred to laugh and talk about mutual passions, such as the Saskatchewan Roughriders (and sports in general), media (Pete was a gift to the broadcasting and sporting industries), music (jazz only) and our all-world growlers.
I savoured those sessions at the time.
I treasure those memories now, on this saddest of days.
Pete passed away on Thursday, having just turned 60.
We all knew the dreaded day was coming, but it still doesn’t seem real.
I just saw him eight days ago, when I visited him in the Pasqua Hospital’s Palliative Care Unit.
He was not in pain and he was at peace, comforted by the knowledge that the futures of his loved ones were safe and secured.
Jacob Paczko, Pete’s amazing son, is an associate lawyer with MLT Aikins in Regina.
A good home has been found for lovable little Frank.
That knowledge brought so much solace to Pete in his final weeks.
At the same time, he did his utmost to make sure that the people closest to him were going to be OK, too.
He made it easier for us by being so tough.
Not once did he say “why me?” or lament his fate.
He dealt with the worst news up-front. As a case in point, consider this X post from May 26th:
“I’m sad that I won’t be around to watch the Riders in the playoffs and (hopefully) Grey Cup. We’re discontinuing the treatments. Likely just a matter of time, and not a lot of it, now.”
In typically selfless fashion, Pete did a huge favour for his family members and friends. He did not allow us to wallow in misery, simply because he steadfastly refused to go there.
I cannot imagine what Pete encountered in his quietest moments. But anything he said or did radiated extraordinary strength, thereby uplifting those of us who wanted nothing more than a full recovery and another few decades with him.
I knew Pete for more than 30 years. However, I didn’t know him well until 2022.
A close friendship was ignited in CKRM’s broadcast booth during a Roughriders game in 2022.
At the time, Pete played host to the Halftime Huddle. The other party in the Halftime Huddle was yours truly.
After chopping up the first half of one Roughriders game, I casually mentioned to Pete: “We should go for lunch.”
I soon discovered that the Bar Willow’s patio allowed pets — and even sports writers! — so I suggested that choice establishment as a venue.
A ritual was born.
A friendship flourished.
Before too long, we were talking about anything and everything.
The subject matter periodically pertained to the fight with cancer, the regimen and rigours of chemotherapy, and his determination to fight.
Remarkably, he discussed serious health issues in the same manner I would refer to a gout flare-up.
Then we moved on.
Jake and Frank aside, there wasn’t anything Pete loved to discuss more than the local sporting scene.
I shared that passion, so he was a kindred spirit.
We knew and respected so many of the same people, because Pete was a human Rolodex when it came to sports of all sorts and the principal figures involved.
Alongside Mitchell Blair, Pete was the long-time host of a local sports show, Locker Talk, on Access Communications.
Pete impacted so many people, for so long, that a tribute show was aired last week.
By that time, he wasn’t feeling up to appearing in-studio, so he prepared a four-minute thank-you video that aired as part of the program.
The show was a one-hour thank-you to Pete, but he made a point of voicing his appreciation for others.
True to form, it was never about him.
The people being interviewed or profiled were the superstars in his world.
They might not have been widely known across the sporting spectrum, but he treated every single athlete as if they were Trevor Harris or Connor Bedard, Connor McDavid or LeBron James.
In so doing, Pete assumed that stature in the local sporting universe.
He was a champion of grassroots sports and all involved.
And, yes, he loved the Roughriders.
Pete, who first purchased a season ticket in 2003, loved attending games alongside Jake.
They cherished father-son time together at both Mosaic Stadiums, just as Pete celebrated Jake’s own progress from Regina Minor Football to the LeBoldus Golden Suns to the Regina Thunder to law school to … well, look at him now and marvel at an exemplary young man.
“I didn’t grow up a CFL fan,” Pete, who was born in London, Ont., told me last year. “The NFL was everything back home. But I kind of had a soft spot for the Argos.
“When I moved out here, it became painfully obvious that you’d better keep up on what the Saskatchewan Roughriders are doing if you’re a sports-minded person and you live here.
“I think the ’89 Grey Cup was my first real exposure to the Riders. I was still living back home in Ontario and I thought, ‘Well, these guys are interesting. I don’t know much about them. Tell me more.’
“Glen Suitor … Dave Ridgway … and with the game itself, I was mesmerized, because it was such a good game. I thought, ‘OK, if I ever live out west, I guess that will be my team.’ ”
He moved to Regina three years later to accept a job in broadcasting.
True to his promise to himself, he became an ardent football fan.
Beyond that, he embraced every sport imaginable.
He made friends with every interaction.
He made an impact that extended far beyond his circle, when you consider the number of viewers and listeners he never met.
Coach Paczko (yes, he did that, too) cared so much for others that, on the very same day he learned his cancer had returned, he attended a Sheldon-Williams Spartans high school football banquet and focused on the accomplishments of others. He did not utter a word about a devastating diagnosis, one he was still digesting.
See what I mean about his strength and selflessness?
Even in our final visit, Pete wanted to know how I was doing. How were Chryssoula and Candy doing? And how about those Roughriders?
We also laughed … a lot.
I hugged him. I told him I loved him.
And now, as the worst news arrives barely a week later, I cannot process how much I miss him.