HowieHanson.com Section
Hubert Humphrey wouldn’t mince words. He’d say: Don’t forget them. Don’t forget the little guy. Don’t forget the people who don’t have lobbyists, who don’t have PACs, who don’t write $5,000 checks at fundraisers. Don’t forget the seniors who built our towns and now count pills at the kitchen table.
“This is more than just coverage. It’s a place for fans to connect, celebrate, and experience the thrill of high school sports like never before.” -- Chris Carr, who’s running point on Strib Varsity
Houston shows up Saturday afternoon to see if the foundation is as wobbly as it looks on paper.
The same folks who used to grumble when the Bulldogs only made the Frozen Four are now pretending a seventh-place finish in the NCHC is just the league being “tough.” That’s not tough. That’s losing dressed up in an alibi.
And that’s Sandelin’s magic trick. No slogans, no gimmicks. Just a quiet confidence that the right kids — his kids — can still win the biggest games on the biggest stage. You just have to trust the process. And, maybe more importantly, trust your backyard.
At a time when the city was searching for ways to reinvent itself beyond shipping and snow, Kern dared to see Duluth as a destination. The airshow he created has now become a staple of the summer tourism calendar, injecting millions into the local economy year after year.
Whitlock might be the league’s last blue-collar folk hero — playing for free so his younger teammates can earn more. “I just want the other guys to get paid and have a shot at their dreams,” he said. “I play because I like it.”
Because Duluth doesn’t have a revenue problem. It has a spending addiction — one enabled for years by a City Council that rarely met a levy increase it didn’t like. That can’t happen again.
“Oh, my biggest strength is my speed. Knowing how to hit gaps, vision, and just being a playmaker. Being a dog. My size doesn’t stop me from doing anything.” -- K.J. Felder Jr.
Multiple referendums have been floated in recent years asking voters for more funding — and taxpayers have responded with a clear and resounding no. Not because we don’t support kids. We do. But because we no longer trust the system to spend responsibly.
Duluth’s health care transformation didn’t come free. It was paid for with public subsidies, neighborhood sacrifice, and long-term tax invisibility. The systems at the center of it all proudly proclaim their commitment to the community — even as the community quietly disappears around them.
The Wilfs — and let’s just call it like it is — chose not to invest in your prime. They picked the cheaper path, then wrapped it in branding and buzzwords and Kevin O’Connell’s “quarterback lab” fantasy. You’re now the face of a franchise that seems more focused on optics than outcome.
Are the Wilfs actually in this to win? Because if you strip away the branding, the marketing jargon, and the empty optimism, the facts paint a troubling picture: the ownership group is acting like financial strategists, not football visionaries.
