Winnipeg Jets Rookie Camp Is a Reminder of Another Time, Another Place

They are the Winnipeg wannabes. Raw. Rough-edged. Twenty-two lads not yet dry behind the ears.

And when they gathered at the MTS Centre on Race Track Road out there on the western-most wing of Pegtown this afternoon, under the watchful eyes of approximately 1,000 fans, it took me back to another time. To another place. To another group of greenhorns yearning to grab the brass ring.

It was a time when the name Winnipeg Jets was synonymous with winning, a culture of success carved out of seven World Hockey Association seasons during which they developed a swashbuckling style of play that featured free-wheeling Swedes, Bobby Hull and three championships.

That trio of titles helped direct the Jets to charter membership in the National Hockey League, and, as is the case with the current edition of the Winnipegs, their first order of on-ice business 32 years ago was a rookie camp.

John Ferguson, the general manager of the day, assembled his wannabes in Ville de Sainte-Agathe, a charming community tucked away in Quebec's picturesque Laurentien Mountains, about 60 miles north of Montreal.

Most notable among the cast of characters on display was the notorious Jimmy Mann.

A nasty bit of business with fists the size of a Christmas turkey and a fuse shorter than a Winnipeg summer, Mann was the apple of Fergy's eye. Thus, the Jets GM used/wasted his first selection (19th overall) on the Sherbrooke Castors product at the NHL's annual garage sale earlier that summer.

To say Mann struggled with his skating would be kind. To be blunt, he was a no-talent thug.

"We got the toughest kid in the draft," Fergy brayed when I inquired about Mann the day of the draft. "And he can play."

No, he couldn't.

The rookie Jets played against three Junior outfits from Quebec during the course of their exercises in Ste-Agathe, plus a camp-closing intrasquad game, the lineup for which included a certain sports writer from the Winnipeg Tribune (he assisted on the game's first goal).

Once they'd packed up and headed for the main camp in Winnipeg, I approached Fergy with considerable concern about young Mr. Mann.

"Are you sure about this Mann kid?" I asked. "I don't think he can play."

Fergy stared down the gun barrel that was his nose, squinted hard and spat out his words.

"What are you talking about?" he challenged me. "He was the best player in camp. Head and shoulders above everyone else."

No, he wasn't.

But Fergy was infatuated with Mann. More to the point, he was infatuated with his fists. So, Jimmy made the big squad in the Jets' inaugural NHL season, and, of the 20 or so kids at Ste-Agathe, he was the sole hopeful who had more than a cup of coffee in Winnipeg, playing parts of five seasons before being kicked to the curb.

So now we have another rookie camp, 32 years later, with a crop of 22 dreamers who are greener than St. Patty's Day.

And it doesn't matter that the majority of them won't spend much, if any, time in Jets linen. Today's workout is the start of what should be a wonderful journey for them, and I'd like to think that kids like Mark Scheifele, Adam Lowry, Zach Yuen, Austen Brassard and Jason Gregoire have a future in River City.

So would the 1,000 or so sets of eyes who witnessed their first official sweat session this afternoon.

Go get 'em, guys.

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