The Winnipeg Arena
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On a mild Saturday morning, I set out from my house with one
intension, a complete exploration of the soon to be moth balled
Winnipeg Arena. I assumed that the demolition crews had already
created a ground level entry for me so I declined to bring my
grappling hook. Unfortunately for me, the only hole was a broken
window that was nearly three stories up and impossible for me to
climb up to. As I walked back towards the front of the building I passed by a trailer whose lights were still on. I had not seen anyone in the trailer when I did a drive by so I walked passed the trailer in a non-chalant manner. To my surprise a man walked past the window closest to me and began to put his coat on. Quickly I jumped behind a cat and began the waiting game. To my surprise he never came out so I simply walked away and never looked back. I did not want to come away empty handed so I decided to climb up to the first level room and get a self-portrait of me in front of the Winnipeg Arena letters. Lady luck however has a funny way of working out. [Entry details removed]. Entry into the interior of the arena was quite easy as there was no wall to hold me back. In a move that would surely make the U.E. hardliners cringe and swear at me I walked across an I-beam to the catwalk. To my surprise it was much colder in the arena than outside and made me wish that I had brought gloves. As I walked along the catwalk a flood of memories and emotions from my childhood swept over me. The White Out, yelling at the ref and opposing teams, acting like a maniac all played back in the back of my head. If there ever was a building that represented the heart and soul of Winnipeg the old barn was it. All was not right however, there were no crowds or Van Halen blaring through the corridors and risers(for those who grew up in the arena, they will remember that Jump was played almost every game). There was only the faint buzz of phosphorus lights. Sitting in the usual spot that my dad paid for, it soon became obvious as to why the arena was scrapped...our seats were actually sitting higher than the catwalks. Nonetheless it did not matter that the view was terrible, it was all about the atmosphere of the place. The drunkards throwing their beer at the visitors bench and ref, Dancin' Gab doing his jig and the hope that maybe, just maybe, the Jets would actually make it to the playoffs. As a child I was always impressed with the arena and always wondered what was behind those closed doors. I also wanted to take a close look at the ancient jumbo-tron (which I am convinced is the first of its kind). Although I have grown up (only in size) the sheer scale of the jumbo tron and its primative RGB display still amazed me. The basement did not fail to disapoint me either, particularly when I gained entry to the large boiler room and locker rooms, both of which were remarkably intact. Of particular interest was a Queen poster that dated from 1984 that I found in a side room. By now I had spent over two hours in the arena and my hands were effectively rendered useless by the -12 temperatures. To say farewell I did what every man in Winnipeg did, I relieved myself in the trough.
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