I owe a lot to Jim Robson, the legendary play-by-play voice of the Vancouver Canucks. I never met the man, but he touched my life. Hell, I wouldn't be who I am today were it not for him.

And I never met the man.

When I was a kid growing up in the backwoods of Prince George, B.C., I listened to a lot of Canucks games - and watched the BCTV broadcasts where Robson had the call.

Inspired by Robson, I decided at some point in my young adult life to try to do play-by-play. I managed to wangle my way into a lot of hockey barns, and sat in the stands with a headset and a tape recorder, trying to teach myself the craft.

Here's the thing about professionals: they make the hard stuff look easy. Play by play is not easy. I tried to reach out to radio stations, but ... with no training, no degree, no diploma ... I don't think I even got a rejection. Every radio station ignored my contacts.

So one summer, I discovered that Robson lived on Saltspring Island. And I did something I have only ever done once: I wrote a letter to someone famous. I wrote a letter asking Robson for guidance. I have no clue what I was thinking: seriously, what was a legend like he going to tell me? How could he help?

Here's the stunning part: Robson responded. He had typed out the response, with a few backspace-corrections that suggested he wasn't intimately familiar with the typewriter. There weren't many words, but they were encouraging. Keep trying. Keep knocking on doors. Find ways to get into hockey rinks, baseball diamonds, whatever.

I did just that.

Then one day, I landed in a hockey rink in Saanich, and found a game with free admission. I discovered the games were free, every Sunday. Well, heck. So I packed my tape recorder, packed my headgear and went. Junior B hockey on Vancouver Island was a rough-and-tumble thing back then, but it was fast, it was free, and it helped me get better.

Back in those days, there was a fledgling digital communications system, Fidonet. It interconnected bulletin boards with each other. One day, I sat down and wrote about the game. Did the same next week, too. And in response, someone said "your stuff should be in the newspaper."

Again, I have no idea what made me think of it, but I went down to the newspaper offices with my printouts and some freelance writing copy, looking for .... well, whatcha got?

That led to a gig writing a once-per-week column for - if I recall, $15per. 600 word cap. Go.

I went.

That once-a-week column became well-read. I started capturing pictures (poorly). I ended up doing some work for a short-lived enterprise called Island Sports Fan, which was overseen by a sports-passionate dude who was also a football coach. He recruited me into officiating football. At the same time,  I ended up writing for the local Black Press papers, freelancing to BC Hockey Now, and whatever else would take my copy. Then I landed a gig as a reporter for the Saanich News. I got a side-gig promoting a junior B hockey club, at a time when the Vancouver Island Junior Hockey League started becoming a proving ground for high-end talent. I've watched the names you might still recognize play as kids. In time, I became an editor - first the Esquimalt News, then that and the Oak Bay News, then a central desker, all the while officiating football at higher levels.  Went east, managed a daily, kept putting food on the table writing about all sorts of things, but always writing about sports.

I've done some play-by-play, too. Never got good at it - good enough for cable TV, maybe, but not much more. (I still remember listening to a recording where I totally muddled "Powell River Paper Kings power play...") If you need some indication of how much I treasured Robson's influence, I would always pause in the middle of a broadcast to honour the volunteers of sports, mirroring Robson's ritual of thanking shut-ins and the blind.

The journalism career lasted 20-odd years. If you care, you'll see my name connected to regional and national awards. Turns out I was good at the print side of things.... and I would never have discovered that if I hadn't been sitting in hockey rinks trying to follow Robson's footsteps.

I mention the football gig because that's led to my current career as a building official: turns out having a brain trained for rules and able to manage conflict is good in the current gig too.

And it all traces back to one man, writing one letter, encouraging one young totally lost kid to keep trying. The path wasn't one that I thought I'd take, but I took the first step due to Jim Robson.

Thanks Jim.