If you're interested in submitting a Letter to the Editor, click here.

Did the good folks at the Nova Scotia Sport Hall of Fame make their best decision by committing its future to its old location in downtown Halifax?

John Soosaar and I have crossed paths many times during the last 65 years – from our school days in New Glasgow, through our decades in the journalism world, to the publication of his riveting book about his family’s escape from war-torn Europe.

They played on a championship hockey club and, many years later, they were still telling me it was the finest team they were ever on.

I feel safe in saying that I’m no different than most Canadians when it comes to having a life-long love affair with hockey.

One hundred years ago – in October 1922 – a group of sports-minded individuals from Antigonish, Pictou and Colchester counties put their heads together and created a regional hockey league.

Spryfield, a suburban community within Halifax, can rightly claim Troy Ryan as one of its own. His birth certificate testifies to that.

During the last two weeks, I was devastated and heartbroken, passing through the whole gamut of human emotion while one of my dearest friends was losing a brief battle against a dreaded medical foe in a hospital on the other side of the ocean.

It was one of those hot, humid afternoons we’ve been having this summer – obviously a forerunner to what climate change is going to be like.

With a scheduled Canadian Football League game at Acadia University this weekend – the Toronto Argonauts hosting the Saskatchewan Roughriders – I’ve been thinking about one man.

Driving into Cole Harbour from downtown Dartmouth, it’s hard not to notice the welcome sign at the corner of Cole Harbour Road and Caldwell Road.

It’s time to call Blayre Turnbull what she is, what she affectionately became as a member of Canada’s gold medal women’s hockey team at the 2022 Olympic Games in Beijing.

Every springtime, for almost half a century, my thoughts focused back on my native Pictou County – and it has nothing to do with my personal memories of warm weather and walking barefoot on the sands of Lighthouse Beach in Pictou Landing.

There’s a tantalizing question I’ve had on my mind for most of my life. Why do certain memories remain far longer than others?

I can remember it was a bright sunny spring day in 1999 when I drove into the parking lot at the Heather Motel in the north end of Stellarton.

I was having lunch recently with a group of old hockey fanatics when one of them asked a question that got me laughing to myself. I didn’t want to laugh in his face.

There’s an annual custom in the sports writing fraternity that, in the final days of any given calendar, you place your reputation on the line by casting a vote for the year’s best sports team.