# ROB VANSTONE
It is far better to give than to receive — especially when a receiver is part of the equation.
For this atypically selfless scribe, one of the highlights of Christmas 2017 was seeing my wife open a box that contained a Saskatchewan Roughriders jersey honouring the spectacular slotback, Joey Walters.
Chryssoula is a huge Joey Walters fan — even though she never saw him play.
She has met him, spent significant time with him, and concluded that he is “the nicest man.” Which he certainly is.
That is why I became a fan, long before I began scribbling for a living. I always admired him as a player. But what really put him over the top was the generous and gracious manner he demonstrated while dealing with a teenaged me in 1981.
Joey had decided to spend that winter in Saskatchewan. One fine day, he was making a promotional appearance for the team at a local shopping centre. Hearing about this, I visited the Golden Mile in the hope of meeting the Roughriders’ No. 17.
We ended up chatting for 45 minutes, near a long-forgotten ice-cream stand. To conclude the conversation, he apologized for consuming so much of MY time.
Well, that was it. No. 17 was instantly No. 1 in my books.
The fan base would soon expand, thanks to back-to-back seasons that are unrivalled in Roughriders history.
Joey caught 91 passes for 1,715 yards and 14 touchdowns in 1981. The receiving-yardage total is still a franchise record, one that has seldom been threatened.
In 1982, Joey caught 102 passes — then a CFL single-season standard — for 1,692 yards.
Naturally, he was named the Roughriders’ most popular player in both seasons.
To this day, any mention of him on social media prompts people to share their own cherished memories of No. 17. I encourage the responses, of course, by mentioning him all the time. Like now, for example.
His enduring popularity is exemplified by the fact that the Riders’ store ordered customized Joey Walters jerseys, on which his statistical feats were listed.
While completing my Christmas shopping, I staggered into the Riders’ Northgate Mall outlet and saw the No. 17 jersey on display.
Sold!
It didn’t matter that I had already purchased not one, but two, Christmas presents for my wife.
The Walters jersey, an impulse buy if there ever was one, completed the hat trick.
There was only one problem: I am the world’s worst wrapper of Christmas gifts.
I am so bad, in fact, that I often put presents in a plastic bag and say: “Here you go. Don’t open the bag until Dec. 25.”
Really, does it get any more festive than that? Ho, ho, ho ...
In this case, however, I couldn’t settle for a plastic bag — not even an upscale one with, you know, handles.
I had to ensure that the present was wrapped in a manner that was suitably respectful to the recipient and the legendary receiver.
Fortunately, there was a giftwrapping table at the Northgate Mall. For a ridiculously reasonable charge of $5, some cheerful students from Winston Knoll Collegiate made the present look like, you know, a present.
As a counterbalance, I was completely dismissive of the other two gifts. I didn’t even wrap the $50 gift card or the container of Scottish terrier-shaped shortbread cookies. Instead, I just handed them to the fair Chryssoula while cooing: “Here. Merry Christmas.”
Impatience got the better of me, as it often does. I wanted to dispense with the preliminaries — with all due respect to my late, great Scottish terriers, Oscar and Elway — and get right to the main event.
So when the time came for the opening of presents, I thrust THE box in her direction. Chryssoula’s beau offered a bow, which adorned the wrapping.
Instantly, she knew this had to be big. Epic, even. The present was wrapped — and not in newspaper.
She sat on the couch and opened the present — I was silently saddened to see the wonderful wrapping job being ripped to shreds — as I sat on the recliner with my iPhone camera trained on her.
Chryssoula gave me a suitably suspicious “what are you doing this time?” look.
I encouraged her to keep opening the present.
Then came that magical moment: “JOEY!”
As soon as she saw the familiar No. 17, she knew.
I couldn’t wait to put the photo — the one that accompanies this column — on Facebook.
And I can’t wait until June, when the jersey will be unveiled at a Roughriders home game.
By then, I assure you, it will be signed.
(Rob Vanstone is the Regina Leader-Post’s sports co-ordinator.)