By Travis Webb
D.J. Flick settles down at a table in MacLaren’s sports bar. It’s a Saturday afternoon and only a dozen other patrons fill the bar, nursing beers and devouring wings. At the back of the room, one of several big screen televisions is filled with U.S. college football. In this environment, you would expect the Ottawa Renegades’ star wide receiver to get at least a couple of curious glances.
But not today.
Instead, he sits quietly with his fiance and sips a coke.
The soft-spoken Centretown resident politely asks a waiter to change one of the televisions to that afternoon’s Canadian Football League game.
All right, now the cat’s out of the bag, right?
“Uh yeah, I’ll have to check,” says the less than enthusiastic waiter.
Flick, 23, is among the Renegades’ team leaders in receptions.
He only had one catch in the previous night’s game against Calgary, but his picture is splashed across the front of The Globe and Mail sports section.
And still he goes unrecognized in one of his favourite Centretown spots.
“Coach [Joe Paopao] takes care of that for us,” he says. “After a game once, the quarterbacks and receivers were eating at a restaurant and nobody noticed us. But when [Paopao] came in, the customers gave him a round of applause.”
Flick’s anonymity could stem from his appearance.
He stands less than six feet tall.
There are no gaudy clothes, fancy cars, or intimidating groupies in sight. Bulging shoulders and a pair of flashy earrings — hardly remarkable among the usual Elgin street crowd — are the only visible concessions to the lifestyle of the professional athlete.
While this subtlety is certainly a function of playing in the relatively small-time CFL, Flick’s background must play a role as well.
“I’ve never lived in a city with real buildings before,” he says. “And I’ve never been able to walk to a mall!”
Flick signed with the Renegades last September, but during the off-season, he still lives in his hometown of Montgomery, Pennsylvania: population 1,631.
He’s just two years removed from Slippery Rock University, a school of 6,500 students set in a town of 3,000 people.
So it’s not surprising that just about everything he says about his new city drips with small-town innocence.
He marvels at living within walking distance of grocery stores and restaurants. He compares the Parliament Buildings to a castle.
He talks about how surprised he was to see bars on Elgin street full every night – even during the week.
“And they only come out at night,” he says.
“They’re like vampires.”
But Flick says adjusting to life in Canada hasn’t always been easy.
He can’t find Fruity Pebbles, his favourite breakfast cereal, in Ottawa.
He was even more upset when he was forced to leave his pet back home in Pennsylvania.
Apparently Canadian authorities frown on keeping pot-bellied pigs in downtown apartments.
“Stuey’s not a farm pig,” explains Flick’s fiancé Mandy Hecknauer. “We have little a harness for him and everything.”
Living with Stuey would be easier for Flick if he had a job in the National Football League.
In 2002, he was invited to training camp with the Pittsburgh Steelers, but was cut before the season began.
He says if he were to get another opportunity in the U.S., he would jump at it – if only for the money.
“But if I could make the same kind of money in the CFL,” he says, “I would stay in Canada.”
For now, Flick doesn’t have that choice.
Still, he’s starting for the Renegades and the team has had moderate success this year with a record of 6-10.
He says he’s happy with Ottawa, but he wishes the fans were a little more enthusiastic about the team.
At the same time, he admits it was a little creepy at Steelers training camp when he was approached by fans who seemed to know everything about him.
It’s clear he doesn’t have that problem in Ottawa.
As he makes his way out of the bar, Flick moves towards a man playing pool. The man is leaning close to the table, lining up his shot.
The man glances at Flick as he approaches and stands up. But once Flick has passed and the man’s back swing is clear, he returns to his game.
Flick heads for the door and disappears into the Elgin Street crowd.