So here’s Neal Pionk, sitting in the back row of orientation camp, probably wondering if anyone will remember that winning hockey games requires more than highlight-reel goals and “branding initiatives.” If history holds, they won’t.
“Overall it was a beautiful night for football … a big crowd, a new flag pole dedicated to a tremendous man and coach (former Hawks coach Gary Bowen) and a Hermantown win … really couldn’t ask for much more than that.” -- Hermantown Coach Mike Zagelmeyer.
Picture it: Ham in sweats, headset strapped on, coaching up young backs on the sideline like he’s been auditioning for the job all summer. He’s never been the rah-rah type in uniform, but suddenly he’s Mr. Clipboard? This isn’t rehab. This is a trial run for the next phase of his career.
And lest anyone think St. Scholastica is just a nice regional option, the rankings folks beg to differ. U.S. News puts them among the Best National Universities, Money magazine says it’s one of the “Best Colleges for Your Money,” and the Princeton Review keeps listing it among the Midwest’s best.
The real story is simple: the Vikings needed a guy who knows the offense and won’t panic on third-and-six. Nostalgia just happened to be the bonus prize.
I’ve met many people eager to be called heroes. Fred is the opposite. He shrugs away attention. He’d rather talk about his students than himself. But the truth is this: Fred Friedman is the greatest man I’ve ever met in my career — a hero who never wanted the title.
If Mayor Roger Reinert wants to prove he was worth the risk, he better deliver more than slogans. Because otherwise, the next election’s motto writes itself: We voted for change, and all we got was “cost of living.”
We can either keep patching potholes with pennies, or we can get bold — not reckless, but bold — about what we already have: a city on the edge of the world’s largest freshwater lake, in a century when water, livability, and resilience will decide which cities thrive.
Public ceremonies like this one don’t always make the evening news. But they should. They are checkpoints in the life of a department that few of us notice until a siren wails down our street or a medic kneels over a loved one.
In Milwaukee, people struggling with addiction or mental illness weren’t being cycled through ERs or dumped onto downtown sidewalks. Instead, they had real places to go, real people to meet them, real pathways to stability. That shift gave residents confidence to come back.