Not A Snowball's Chance For Some Athletes
By Mark Boghen
MONTFORT, QUEBEC (Reuters) – The light is dying as late afternoon approaches in this sleepy Quebec town, and the steaming breath of a solitary figure, an athlete, is coming in steady wisps. Thousands of kilometers away, surrounded by coaches, draped in national colours and, on occasion, bowing their heads to be given medals and the cheek pecks of officialdom, Canada’s Olympians are fighting for glory before the eyes of the world. But here, with his lumber shirt flecked with snowflakes, one of the country’s most decorated sportsmen toils in relative obscurity. His name is Jean-Pierre Jutras, and like his father and uncle before him, he is champion snowball thrower.
In 1999, Jutras won the first of his five National Snowball Throwing Championships. He repeated the accomplishment the following year, winning by the largest margin in 20 years. In 2001 and 2002, he failed to qualify for the final rounds, largely as a result of long-term elbow problems that forced him to seek reconstructive surgery in Phoenix, Arizona. The surgery, called the Tommy John procedure after the baseball pitcher that first brought it to public attention, was a success, and Jutras came back to win the title in 2003. He has not relinquished it since.
“I know what you’re gonna ask me,” grins Jutras. “It’s ok. Everybody asks. Does it bug me that my sport isn’t an Olympic sport? I will give you the same honest answer I give everyone: yes, it bugs me.” The question may not be new, but in an Olympic year it gains a sense of urgency. And its answer is one that Jutras, a good-humoured but intense man of 29, has clearly pondered at considerable length.
“Look. My sport is probably the oldest winter sport in the world. As long as we’ve had snow, people have packed it into balls and thrown it, trying to see how far and how accurately. I mean, come on, women’s snowboard cross? That sport was invented, what, last week?” Jutras shakes his head with an exasperated laugh. “For sure, there is double standard.”
Snowball throwing is a sport that has been dominated by Quebecers for the last 50 years. The last non-Quebecer national champion was Alvin O’Toole of Sudbury, and that was in 1955. Does Jutras mean that the double standard is a divide between the two solitudes? That if he were an English-speaking snowballer, he would be in Turin right now, sipping lattes and ogling Vespas? No.
“The Winter Olympic sports, they’re rich man’s sports. Have you bought a lift ticket lately at Tremblant? Whistler? Do you have any idea how much a bobsled costs? You could get a Hyundai for less. New. Snowballing is a sport open to everyone, no matter how much money you’ve got. When I’m not training, I split wood for a living. I don’t get federal funding. I don’t get provincial funding. And let’s face it – the purses in our events aren’t huge. It kills me that Tiger Woods earns millions for hitting a ball, while I earn $500 for throwing one, if I’m lucky. I mean, I don’t even get to use a club.”
Jutras reaches down and scoops up a handful of white powder. “A lot of people think snowballers are all arm and no brain, but that is completely false. You know how they say that the Eskimos have 23 different words for snow? Well, that’s incorrect, for two reasons. First, they’re not Eskimos, they’re Inuit. Second, it’s not 23. It’s 35. The Eskimos, excuse me, Inuit, don’t have the technology we have to analyze snow. When I’m competing, I have to know exactly what kind of snow I’m packing. Cross-country skiers only have six different kinds of wax. Do you see anyone calling them all leg and no brain?”
Jutras’ father, also Jean-Pierre Jutras, known affectionately in snowball circles as “Papa,” was a 6-time national champion in the late 60’s and early 70’s. Papa’s brother, Jules Jutras also won the title four times. In those days, there were fewer Winter Olympic sports, and snowballers didn’t think about competing internationally. With the rapid growth in Olympic events though, they feel left out in the cold.
Jutras packs a couple of glistening, robust snowballs and picks out a sapling some 30 metres away. He slowly coils and releases, and the ball hurtles toward the tree, exploding upon impact. A second ball follows it with the same remarkable result, leaving what’s called a splotch mark just a ball’s width below the first.
“Last year, I was down in Phoenix for a surgical follow-up,” Jutras says, absent-mindedly flexing his elbow. “I’m in the waiting room and who do I run into but Eric Gagne?” Gagne is the Montreal-born 2003 Cy Young-winning Los Angeles Dodger relief pitcher who earns roughly US$8 million per year. “He recognizes me from watching snowballing on TSN. We start chatting about throwing and he asks me if I want to come and work out with the team. So I say sure. Next thing I know, we’re at training camp and Gagne and I are throwing side by side. They have the radar gun there, you know? And guess what? I’m throwing the same speed as him! And I’m throwing snowballs, don’t forget, so you lose some speed to crumbling. Where’s my million-dollar contract? Where’s my gold medal? I’m not some kid tossing snowballs at city buses you know. I know I belong in Turin. And maybe, one day….”
Jutras’ voice trails off. It’s getting dark. There will be no more snowball training today. In Turin, a South Korean short track speed skating team is being crowned with laurel wreathes. For Jutras? Maybe, one day….