A Troy story

Troy Westwood's notoriety north of the line rivals Vick's prominence stateside.


Anybody even vaguely acquainted with me knows that I am no Sporty Spice. I was the kid hiding out in the bathroom stall at school during gym class. I’d lock the door and stand on the toilet seat to make my feet invisible to hall monitors searching for stragglers.

So when Michael Vick was given the go-ahead to play in the NFL, I was astonished that his reputation as a sadistic dog torturer hadn’t tanked his career. And when the Philadelphia Eagles signed the quarterback for a cool $7 million two-year contract, my amazement grew.

As an outsider looking in, I’ve noticed that sports stars are portrayed as being more than athletically gifted. Much emphasis is also placed on them being stellar community leaders involved in charities and other high-minded pursuits.

In my struggle to understand the Michael Vick issue from all angles, I called up an old friend—who’s also my high school sweetheart, by the way—because I knew he would throw fresh light on the controversy. He’s articulate and outspoken, and controversial at times in his own way.

Just like Vick, Troy Westwood is a #7, but he played in the CFL. The 17-year veteran kicker for the Winnipeg Blue Bombers is the longest-serving player, and holds more than 30 team records. He’s the fourth-best scorer in CFL history. The 290 games he’s played ranks seventh in league history. His retirement last year has him most certainly bound for the Hall of Fame.

These days, he's a morning co-host on QX104 FM radio in Winnipeg, and a case manager for Family Connections, an inner-city organization that reunites children with their parents.

Troy had watched Vick’s interview on 60 Minutes last Sunday, and he didn’t take his comments at face value.

“Any time you have to read from a written statement, I’d question how from the heart it is,” Troy said, although he added that he’s reluctant to judge Vick’s sincerity from afar.

Troy said the 18 months Vick served of his 23-month sentence was too short, in his opinion. But he also believes in second chances.

“If someone comes out of incarceration, man or woman, they should be allowed to seek employment. That’s his profession. Someone’s got to be willing to offer you employment.”

Troy explained that Vick’s signing wasn’t surprising. And that—in the face of a sporting culture focused on winning—animal lovers might view it as a victory that so many teams refused to sign a player with such promise.

“All that matters is winning. That’s the culture of professional sport. Winning is it.”

Because managers’ heads land on the chopping block if a team doesn’t nab the wins, that means anything goes, Troy said. “There are rapists and murderers in the NFL. Any means justifies the end in professional sports.”

Troy wasn’t surprised to hear about Vick’s dog fighting involvement, because he’s heard locker room chatter about the blood sport before.

“For the past 15 years, I’ve heard guys from the southern states talking about it. It’s cultural,” Troy said.

I asked him: Is it even possible for a man who spent five years inflicting torture and suffering upon dozens of innocent animals to have the ability to change after a short stint in jail?

“The answer to that question only Michael Vick knows,” Troy said.

Whether Michael Vick plays or doesn’t play, repents or doesn’t repent, I know this much is true—his arrest has been a godsend for bringing dog fighting and its inherent cruelty into the public spotlight.

And while sports fans will be watching Vick's performance when he's on the field, animal rescuers around the nation will be watching him, too—for how he plays outside the stadium.


Photo courtesy of the Winnipeg Free Press.


Troy and I were on our way to his uncle's wedding when this shot was snapped. I was 16. Yes, it's true it took some guts for me to post this. I'm cringing at my '80s big hair and the shoulder pads. There are some trends that should never make a comeback.

Seeing red results in bloody posting

Trixie the pit bull begs for a home at the Richmond Animal Protection Society in British Columbia.

After two decades of toiling in the trenches of animal rescue, I’ve finally learned that it’s wise to keep my cool if humanly possible. And not just for the sake of my own personal safety—it’s a more effective way to present my message.

Whenever I feel the heat of rage rising, I chant a mantra to myself: “Remember the mission.”

Well, most of the time.

This week, when dog fighting felon Michael Vick was signed by the Philadelphia Eagles for a two-year contract worth nearly $7 million, my cool rose to red-hot in a matter of moments. And the boiler was cranked up even higher when I talked to members of the general public about the issue, particularly sports fans. Most said he deserved a second chance. That he had served his time, paid his debt to society, and now it was time to let him play.

I was mad. So I uploaded a photo of one of Vick’s victims as my Facebook profile photo. And I put the photo on this blog, too. My rationale was this: if we can’t even bear to look at just one of the survivors of his Bad Newz Kennels compound, how could we endorse allowing him to play?

The picture was gory. In retrospect, the posting might not have been the best course of action. The animal lovers were supportive, but they didn’t deny the photo was upsetting. I ended up feeling conflicted about making them look at something they’d rather not see.

From Bad Newz to worse

A message to the Philadelphia Eagles and Roger Goodell: If Michael Vick had committed these stomach-turning acts on dozens of human beings in his Bad Newz Kennels torture compound, would we even be having this debate? Animals have less power than human beings. And they are just as deserving of compassion and humanity.

It's not about the right to earn a living. It's about the privilege of earning millions to be a role model. Is this the person we want our children looking up to?

Someone who can torture helpless animals exhibits darkness of the heart that shouldn't be allowed to shine on a football field, or anywhere else for that matter.


Michael Vick's actions reveal dramatic disrespect for innocent lives.

A bone for the dogs behind the green door

Corinne Dowling endears herself to a dog in custody with a tasty treat. Photo courtesy of Sylvia Spiro of Vision Captured.

Most open-admission animal shelters house a population segment that the public never sees -- the custody dogs being confined by court order.

Seized as a result of cruelty or neglect cases, or dog aggression, they aren’t up for adoption. Dependent on a judge’s decree, they languish in kennels under court order without the benefit of human interaction or even the opportunity to breathe fresh air and put their paws in the grass.

A few months ago, I visited with Corinne Dowling, the founder of Give a Dog a Bone. She was a volunteer dog walker at San Francisco’s Animal Care and Control (ACC) when her interest grew piqued by “the dogs behind the green door.” Canine residents in custody might include dogs from pit bull fighting rings, those enmeshed in dog bite cases, or dogs with owners who have been hospitalized for physical or mental illness.

Destined to remain in isolation for months, even up to a year, they are bored and stressed while they wait for their cases to be resolved in the court system. Many face imminent death when their time is up.

“These are the forgotten dogs that nobody knows about,” Dowling says. “I found out they were here for incredible lengths of time with nothing. Protective custody is actually solitary confinement.”

Dowling’s heart went out to them, and with the support of ACC, she applied for a grant to start a quality of life program in 1999 called Give a Dog a Bone that can be administered from behind bars if necessary. Tug toys made of strong nylon rope, tennis balls on sticks, and a steady supply of stuffed animals and special food treats make life bearable for these dogs. Some animals receive supervised outdoor playtime. Dowling’s goal is to rebuild the dogs’ trust in human beings. Her program helps keeps the dogs socialized so they can be considered for adoption once their sentences have been served.

“We consider them victims, not perpetuators,” Dowling says. “In giving them quality of life, in loving them, through engaging their natural behaviors in a species-inappropriate environment, we are re-establishing the human-animal bond. Companionship is a fundamental part of what we do, because establishing a relationship with our dogs is the key to their road back to life as a companion animal in a good home.”

In 2007, the adoption rate for ACC’s custody dogs was 31 percent, the highest in the shelter’s history. Dowling aspires to bring her breakthrough program to animal shelters worldwide.

We all need to care about the dogs behind the green door. They have suffered at the hands of our species. Now we have an obligation to do right by them. These animals may not be seen, but as Dowling demonstrates, they shouldn’t be forgotten.