I realized pretty early on in life that my dream of going to the Olympics would end up being unfulfilled, so I set my sights on the 1997 Canada Games.
In the early 90s I spent a lot of time playing basketball — for the schools I attended, on the outdoor courts in St. John’s, and at Memorial University’s basketball camps.
In 1994 I got involved with the province’s four-year plan to build a solid basketball team for the 1997 Canada Games in Brandon, Man.
For the better part of those four years I hung around with the province’s top boys basketball players, but my dream of wearing Newfoundland and Labrador on my jersey fell a little short.
Basketball teams generally carry 12 players and I happened to be the 15th.
My Canada Games dream ended.
At least, that’s what I thought at the time.
The cycling criterium saw some high speeds through downtown. (Mike Rossiter/CBC)
It all changed when St. John’s was awarded the 2025 Canada Games.
I wouldn’t be competing for medals or glory, but I would get to see what the event was all about from the local media point of view.
For just over two weeks video producer Dan Arsenault and I hit up as many events as we could, chatting on and off camera to dozens of folks and getting a feel for the Canada Games.
Armed with a microphone, the retro 1977 logo on my hat and the mascot Gusty on my socks, we took in a lot of the action.
This is the outfit I wrote during the two weeks of the Canada Games. (Sophie Harrington)
Our focus was hyper local — chatting to athletes from across Newfoundland and Labrador, all of them beaming with pride to be a part of Team N.L.
It wasn’t only the athletes who were into the games. Almost every sport we attended had a loud and lively crowd.
Venues like the Field House, King George V and St. Pat’s ballparks saw sell-out crowds, and when women’s baseball made its debut, fans started lining up at 5 p.m. for a game that didn’t start until 7:30 p.m.
Maybe the medals didn’t come in as they have in the past, like in 1977 when we saw Blair Tuckers’ incredible gold medal swim, the bronze-medal-winning women’s field hockey team, or Gord Follett Jr’s 10,000-metre racewalking bronze medal.
But I did see a lot of young folks from this province putting it all out there, like the incredible moment when 12-year-old Juan Diego Palma walked onto the bulkhead for the three-metre diving competition.
Noticeably shorter than his older competitors, the crowd erupted for the young man, his sights already set on the 2029 Canada Games before he’d even left the springboard.
People who followed the games won’t forget the inspirational swims by Thomas Pelley, or the 100-metre para ambulatory race bronze won by 15-year-old Seamus Reardon, or the incredible display by quadruple-medalist Gavin Baggs who won in both in the pool and on the track.
You’re probably going to want to keep an eye on that young man.
Baggs, seen here in Lane 5, narrowly lost the race to Dante Cormier of New Brunswick. (Mike Rossiter/CBC)
Every event and venue held hundreds of stories: as beach volleyball began so to did the Paddy’s Pond fire.
Athletes, spectators and coaching staff were well aware of what the province was facing and the only people who worked harder than the athletes and organizers those two weeks were fire fighters, first responders and volunteers.
Behind every person wearing a Team N.L. logo is an army of family, friends and supporters.
Every one of them with a story or two to tell about how they got here.
As a reporter you want to tell them all — the funny, the sad, the inspiring — but there’s only so much time.
Two pages of the binder full of documents leading up to the 1977 Canada Games. (Jeremy Eaton/CBC)
My birth at the Carbonear General Hospital happened a few years after all the 1977 medals had been handed out and the athletes long gone, but the impact it had still resonated.
My grandfather, Doug, had some memorabilia in his office that we’d look at and as I grew into a young athlete myself I had many more questions about the massive multi-sport event.
Leading up to the 2025 games, I ended up with a document-filled binder from the early 1970s holding the minutes of the Sports and Technical Advisory Board of which Doug had been the chair.
But my grandfather’s involvement and yellowing paperwork aside, the event in 1977 was hard to avoid — you literally had to walk underneath the Newfoundland dog logo every time you went into the Aquarena for a swim.
Playing baseball as a teen at St. Pat’s ballpark was another reminder of the legacy of the games. Even now, playing pickleball as an older (and thicker) athlete at the Greenbelt tennis courts is a testament to that legacy.
It’s hard not to wonder if in another 50 years, some yet-to-be born child will benefit from the 2025 Canada Games as much as I did from the ones in 1977.
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