Perfetti perfection distils the wonder of Winnipeg A love letter to a city that is often underestimated By: Sarah Lawrynuik Posted: 4:19 PM CDT Friday, May. 30, 2025

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 30/05/2025 (490 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

The fear of tumbling down rows of seats from the 300-level of the Canada Life Centre was never more real than the night of the Manitoba Miracle.

A moment of genuine Winnipeg history, as forward Cole Perfetti flicked the puck in just under the crossbar with seconds left in the first-ever Game 7 on home ice for the Jets 2.0.

The jumping — that frenzied celebratory bedlam — posed a real threat to the safety of all of us, stabilized only by the hugs from friends and strangers in the vicinity. And, perhaps, by the sticky beer that had been tossed in the air only to end up coating the floor. I’ve never screamed so loud in my life, to the point of feeling completely dizzy.

It was sports at its absolute best, but also a moment, upon reflection, indicative of the uniquely Winnipeg lived experience.

Amid that opening-round series against the St. Louis Blues and the subsequent clash with the Dallas Stars, despite the Jets finishing the regular season as the NHL’s top team and regardless of fans’ placards declaring “We Believe,” a nagging doubt of going all the way persisted. That a city like ours could not possibly achieve such a feat.

It felt as if it tapped into the core belief Winnipeggers seem to have, that we are somehow less than — not just in sports, but in many other arenas.

My parents said it and I know I have too, that you must be from this city in order to love it. A belief that we should reach out and name for the lie it is.

Winnipeg is a fabulous city, built on a community that is unlike any I’ve ever seen. Is it a perfect place? Of course not. But it is a place where you find people who care about each other and get back up after our failures and try to do better.

Some readers might recognize my name from past issues of the Free Press. Having been both a regular contributor to this newspaper for years from the streets of the Exchange District and the West End, and a less-frequent contributor when I moved abroad to cover Russia’s war in Ukraine, somewhere along the way I set up a base camp in London, England.

My most recent return forced an appreciation, perhaps for the first time from an outsider’s perspective, of just how special Winnipeg is. And I’m learning the hard way that sometimes, it takes leaving to appreciate the things that matter the most.

This spring I came home for a pair of weddings, taking several weeks off work to show my British partner the city that still remains “home” no matter how long I’m away.

We arrived to an overwhelming patina of brown, a city still shaking off the grungy remnants of a long winter. We arrived before the street cleaners emerged, before the lilacs bloomed, before the Beer Can opened its gate.

I apologized to my partner Alex for bringing him here at the worst possible time of year because, I figured, even in the thick of winter when it’s -30 C, we could have gone skating down the river or attended Festival du Voyageur.

If it was summer, I countered, there would have been an onslaught of festivals from Folklorama to the Fringe, the beer gardens would have all been in top form, and nearby beaches would have called our names.

As I ran through the list of my favourite things to do in Winnipeg, none of them would suit in April and early May. And yet, this city still managed to enamour him, and me, with the wonder that is Winnipeg.

Playoffs were an obvious boon, stoking a not-often-seen unbridled enthusiasm for the city. And hockey was a new and entertaining sport for a Brit used to the comparative crawling-pace of soccer. (Football, sorry London).

But we also watched Free Press columnist Jen Zoratti try standup comedy for the first time as one of the featured performers in the Winnipeg Comedy Festival’s pro-am event. Nearly three hours of non-stop laughter, only 20 per cent of which I had to “subtitle” for the foreigner, as the humour turned self-deprecating for the city I now defend.

We spent an hour watching butterflies at The Leaf, and many more walking around The Forks and Garbage Hill, and Kilcona Park, too.

I introduced him to the joy of singing with beats up and the car windows down, a simple pleasure I’ve long taken for granted. But he doesn’t even have a driver’s licence. In London, why would you?

Smokies lit up the grill for catch-ups with some of the best friends the world has to offer. We ate our way through the finest restaurants in town and settled down with family for Alex’s first experience of s’mores around a backyard fire. (Before the fire ban took effect — safety first.)

I didn’t offer him a rose-coloured view. I took him to the Canadian Museum for Human Rights and talked about the struggles we face with our colonial legacies. We walked past homeless encampments and he saw the North End, too. An imperfect place, with so much work to be done. But what city isn’t?

On the grounds of the legislature on a sunny afternoon, a family from Hamilton told us how much fun they were having visiting Winnipeg for the first time. And it surprised me, I’m embarrassed to say — despite the fact I was having a blast showing off same city. But that’s just because I’m from here, right?

Through the years I’ve left for different parts of Canada, only to return time and time again, drawn back to this place. Not out of necessity, but out of a deep and enduring love that only finds new facets the more of the world I see, the more I learn about the quirks of other cities not only across Canada, but around the world.

I was reading the other day an interview with Perfetti about the Manitoba Miracle. He said he couldn’t remember the moment surrounding his buzzer-beating goal, and that he blacked out from the excitement amid the roar of the crowd.

I just want to say the rest of us will remember it forever. A moment of absolute perfection that embodied just one part of what makes me love this city so much.

Now, I wake in London to my partner relaying NHL playoff scores and highlights from games played in the wee hours of the morning, at least in our time zone. Winnipeg has clearly left an impression.

And it hardly matters that the Jets couldn’t top the Stars. Or that the leaves weren’t out to greet us. It is a place and community that always punches above its weight.

I am fortunate to have so much love in my life that I can claim to have two homes.

But it feels so bittersweet leaving, saying goodbye when the time is never long enough.

sarah.lawrynuik@gmail.com