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Page 4, Terrace Bay-Schreiber News, Wednesday, December 10, 1986 "Ferrace bay Editorial__ \ The Terrace Bay-Schreiber News is published every Wednesday by: Laurentian Publishing ; : a ---- Co. Ltd., Box 579, Terrace Bay, Ontario, POT 2W0. Telephone: (807) 825-3747. gs ae a cents 4 CO _ . 2 uDSCrI ion-ra | Second Class Mailing Permit Number 0867 At BE Eg A ecit eae | ege! EDITOR Ken Lusk out-of-town -- $18.00 (= es ee a Se ee eee Menber of Cem ADVERTISING Pee a es Sas Betty St. Amand Newspapers Association and The OFFICE...... wi ete Ma rt. Seat ok ee ee eet Gayle Fournier Canadian Community Newspapers . Sais Asscciation. . A MEI LATE STIS All in fun What weigh 300 pounds, come in many different colors, sweat profusely and are on a lifetime's mission to destroy their own kind? Wrestlers of course, and there were plenty of them at the Schreiber Community Centre last Sunday. The point of wrestling is supposed to be that one opponent (or a team) pins the other to the mat for a couple of seconds to win the._match. But in the meantime, the participants of this 'sport' dance and fly and twist around the ring in faked show of violence. Sure, it's better that it is faked- can you imagine if it were real? Real-life wrestling has a name- boxing. Why do people enjoy watching these muscle-bound Charles Bronsons sweat and curse and display fake sentiments of revenge? Watching a wrestling match is actually a lot of fun. To young children, these. guys represent the He-Mans, the Skeletors, the Darth Vaders and the Luke Skywalkers of their world. Wrestling is as harmless as watching Star Wars. As long as the children realize it is all in fun, wrestling will add some realism to their world of heroes and villians. It is said that adults need an outlet for frustrations, and if wrestling supplies that for them, great. It is a well-known fact that wrestlers are 'faking' it but there was still some doubt as to whether it was all pretend. It was all pretend in Schreiber Sunday night. Not even any fake blood. - ; A lot of people change the channel as soon as wrestling pops up on the tube, but it is quite different seeing it live (which goes for most events). When you're five feet from the ring, it becomes apparent that it is faked and that these guys are just having fun. The wrestlers received more audience participation that some comedians do. The simple fact that it is not real makes it funny. _ These guys know how to make noise too. Arms, legs and .torsos slam to the mat in such a fashion that no injuries are sustained- but the boom reverberates through the arena and catches you unawares. These he-men are just play-fighting, but that's not to say Pee Wee Herman could do it. These guys are insulated pretty thickly, but are actors as well as wrestlers. Adult§ realize it's all in fun, and it lets out the child in them. But children may be caught in the middle. They may be'told by their parents that it's just make-believe, but still they believe that it is real- within children's hearts is a place where fan- tasy exists. If no harm comes of it, let the children play. Black and White a" Boy, APARTMENT LIVIN ' SURE BEATS Hollow Logs ,!" Kickboxing to be allowed Professional kickboxing, a sport which combine the martial arts with conven-_ tional boxing, will be al- lowed in Ontario under close medical supervision for a two-year trial, period, Athletics Commissioner Clyde Gray announced recently. Gray said new regulations have been introduced to bring kickboxing under the jurisdiction of the Ontario Athletics Control Act. The relatively new sport had been considered illegal in Ontario "under the Criminal Code of Canada because it wasn't sanctioned or regu- lated by the province. 'The new regulations clearly spell out the con- ditions under which profes- sional kickboxing matches may be sanctioned and est- ablish new medical monitor- ing practices which will ap- ply to kickboxing partic- ipants and boxerx alike," Gray said. In accordance with the new regulations, any partic- ipant who loses a bout by a knockout or, in the opinion of officials, is believed to have suffered a head injury will be required to undergo a thorough neurological ex- aminiation, paid for by the promoter. failure to under- go the tests result in suspen- sion of the participant's licence. The new medical require- ments apply to both boxing and kickboxing. '*The results of the neuro- logical examinations will be analyzed over the two-year trial period to determine if repeated blows to the head result in immediate or cum- ulative brain damage and will be used as a basis for further recommendations concerning these svorts in Ontario,' Gray He alse announced the in- troduction of other regula- tions which will allow fe- males to fight one another in professional boxing, kick- boxing and _ wrestling matches. Kickboxing and boxing were the subjects of a 1983 study by an independent committee appointed by the provincial government and headed by Dr. Allan Hudson, a Toronto neuro- surgeon. The committee report concluded there was insuf- ficient statistical data avail- able to support some of the basic arguments in favor of banning "combative" sports, but recommended that such data be compiled by closely monitoring head injuries suffered by partici- pants over a trial period. An individual with exper- tise in the martial arts will be appointed by the Minis- try to assist in the licensing and regualtion of kick- boxing By Arthur Black I'd like to make this the Chester Frowde Memorial Column if it's all the same to you folks out there -- for reasons I will getto later. For now, suf- fice to say that Chester is -- was -- a Canadian newspaperman who, in his own curious way, deserves a niche up there alongside the most exalted of the genre: the George Browns, the Joseph Howes, the Bertons, the Lynches, yea, even the Fotheringhams. Indeed some of we lesser ink-stained wretches might well look upon Chester Frowde as the patron saint of journ- alistic careers. V.S. Pritchett, for in- stance. Before he became an interna- tionally famous author, Mister Pritchett spent some years as a reporter for The Christian Science Monitor. Not...terribly distinguished years, however. As a reporter, Mr. Pritchett was a bit of a bust. He once had an ex- clusive scoop about the sudden resigna- tion of a Cabinet Minister -- but decid- ed not to file a story on it, "Couldn't see how it mattered," he explained. In 1922, his paper sent him to cover a war raging in the mountains of Spanish Morocco. Pritchett went, but stayed as far away from the fighting as possible, holing up in a hotel in down- town Tangier for the duration of hostilities. "I did hear quite a lot of gunfire in the evenings," Pritchett recalled wistfully, "and it was a love- ly country." I knew a Canadian reporter who might have a special pigeonhole in his heart for Chester Frowde. A few years ago, this reporter was dispatched to cover a forest fire raging near the town of Armstrong, in northern Ontario. Our hero departed for the north _ country with much Hemingwayesque bravado -- not to mention lumberjack boots, a Swiss Army knife on the belt, and even one of those Aussie campaign hats with the snap-up side brims. His envious colleagues were some- what surprised to receive his first on- the-spot report the next day not from the smoke-shrouded fire zone but from Winnipeg, several hundred miles to the west. Turned out that forest fires are a little more frightening up close than our intrepid reporter had realized. Showing Pritchett-like prudence, he had had himself evacuated along with a planeload of women and children. Some observers estimated that he had remained at the front for as long as 20 minutes. Do I sound like I'm smirking? I'm and Hee-Haw comedy routines. There not. I too, have had my moment of humiliation in the newspaper business. It happened many years ago, when I turned in my very first newspaper ar- ticle as a grass-green cub reporter for a weekly newspaper much like this one. First articles are terribly important. This one carried my name on it. I knew that my friends would read it. My relatives. That gorgeous blonde in 12B ...even creepy old Mister Richardson who ran the groceteria and told anyone who would listen that I would never amount to much. The topic I chose to immortalize in my very first newspaper piece was the only hotel in town -- specifically, the beverage room thereof. Said watering hole was a veritable symphony of Country and Western memorabilia. There were posters of Porter Wagoner and Tammy Wynette in concert. There were slogans like '"'HOWDY POD- NUH!' and '"'HOW ARE Y'ALL, ANY- HOW?'* daubed above the urinals. There was a much scuffed and sporadically sequined plywood stage in one corner where, on Talent Night, local would-be Tammys and Porters got up clutching a hand-held mike and whined their way through hurtin' songs ~ Nd . % were even some genyoowine stetsons spraypainted in tasteful gold lame and nailed to.the walls. I loved that beverage room. Admit- tedly, my ardour increased with the amount of beverage consumed, but I loved it, wet and dry. That's why my newspaper article about it had to be perfect. I stayed up all night, polishing and honing my paean of praise. I re- wrote it 11 times and then handed it to the editor, wondering to myself if The Guiness Book of Records contained a category for Youngest Pulitzer Prize Winner. The issue containing my article hit the streets at 10 a.m. on a Wednesday. By 10:10, the owner of the hotel had managed to read his copy, storm down to the newspaper office, and threaten the editor with everything from with- drawal of advertising to some very ugly leg injuries. By 10;20 I had been fired from the paper, banned for life from the hotel, and threatened with a very damaging libel action. If Guiness had a category for that, I didn't wish to know about it. Ah well, Chester Frowde would have sympathized. He too had a wrist wrestle with journalistic immortality when Chester looked up from the night desk of The Ottawa Journal to see a chubby little man in a shabby suit, bath- ed in sweat, waving at him. The man was agitated, obviously a foreigner and possibly drunk. Chester asked him what he wanted. The man kept repeat- ing four words: "It's war. It's Russia."' Well, Chester Frowde was respons- ible and patient, but night editors get all kinds of kooks and weirdos. After a few minutes of garble and gesticula- tion, Chester escorted the man to an elevator, suggesting he take his story to the Mounties. : Then Chester put Igor Gouzenko, the most famous Soviet defector in history, into the lift, pressed *"*Lobby"' and kiss- ed the scoop of the century goodbye. Chester will not have to endure the ribbings of his Press Club colleagues any longer. He's dead, at the age of 97. Thing is, he died two weeks ago, and I, intrepid newshound that I am, miss- - ed the story entirely -- wouldn't have found out at all, perhaps, except that the headline caught my eye as I was fir- ing up the woodstove with a piece of newspaper. So here I am, writing Chester's 'obit' ' two weeks late.