CALGARY - Calgary Flames forward Matt Stajan says hes thankful for the support he and his wife Katie have received following the death of their infant son. Emerson Stajan died March 3 following his birth. Stajan returned to the Flames on Monday and participated in practice after taking an extended personal leave. "We would like to take this opportunity to thank everyone for the incredible outpouring of love and support, during this very difficult time," the Stajans said in a statement released by the Flames on Monday. "All of you have touched our lives with your kindness and compassion, and we truly appreciate everyones thoughts and prayers. "Our son, Emerson, will forever be in all of our hearts. Thank you for taking the time to think of us, and grieve this unbearable loss with us. It means so much, and we are grateful for all of your support." Stajan signed a four-year extension with the Flames earlier this year. He has 10 goals and 13 assists in 52 games this season. 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Sheldon Rankins Youth Jersey . -- Even as Chris Paul remained evasive about his future, he did what team leaders are expected to do. Custom New Orleans Saints Jerseys . Villar connected off Joe Saunders (11-14), sending a drive well over the left-field fence for his first career homer. The Astros scored six times in the first three innings to chase Saunders.If I ever needed a brain transplant, Id choose a sportswriter because Id want a brain that had never been used.- Norm Van Brocklin When I was 13, I transferred to a new school for the first time. I had spent ten years from junior kindergarten through Grade 8 at the northwest corner of Bathurst Street and Viewmount Avenue in midtown Toronto. It was my home court advantage. I knew the roll of the rims and the carom of the walls and which teachers were lax at taking attendance. It couldnt last forever. At some point a promotion was coming, and my record setting minor league career wouldnt matter once new maths and makeup-laden girls challenged all that I had honed. I was heading to St. Andrews Junior High. Grade 9. The Show. Embarking on my first day in the wilds of the public school system, I knew I had to make my mark early. Mr. Pelech, my clever English teacher, noticed my t-shirt just minutes into the first class. It was a tattered, ink-drenched Grateful Dead concert tee. He remarked that "Grateful Dead" was an example of a contradiction. Contra what now? Coach tapped my shoulder and I hopped the boards. I proceeded to argue with a shellshocked Mr. Pelech for several minutes. My arguments were lithe, varied and completely illogical, but I had been trained to stand my ground no matter how ridiculous my position. Eventually, a hapless Mr. Pelech scanned the class and sputtered, "Just who is this guy?" Each one of my classmates shook their heads sheepishly as if to say uh, dont look at me. Mark made. Within two weeks I owned that school. They didnt realize the repressed explosiveness that ten years of private school Yiddish lessons would unleash. It is in this brazen spirit I introduce myself to you now, Dear Reader, as your new weekly columnist for Bardown. Why was I chosen as The One to guide you through the international sports landscape, particularly with so many scribes vying for your sports-saturated eyeballs? Commence the elucidation (AKA bring da noize): Basketball. This is my wheelhouse. I know all the lyrics to Kurtis Blows Basketball and I have for decades. I own a Sweet Georgia Brown-humming Harlem Globetrotters pinball machine from 1979. I still play pickup every week at a local high school against stiff competition in their very extremely late twenties. Also, I was an associate producer for the Toronto Towers of the NBA for nearly 500 games, post-games, pre-games and exactly five playoff games. Ooh, another thing, I call the Toronto Raptors the Toronto Towers because I have some self-respect. Baseball. I spent five teenage summers selling peanuts outside the Dome under the alias Mike Simmons. Despite a promising career as a sidearm Eephus pitch-throwing specialist, the leagues advanced scouts were never able to unravel the mysteries of my potential, because apparently throwing over the plate was a "prerequisite for success". Racists. I submit that using the All Star Game to decide home field advantage in the World Series is akin to the winner of the submission portion of Americas Funniest Home Videos determining the nominees for The Oscars Best Picture award. Also, you can thank me for getting the old Blue Jays logo back, as days after writing this piiece, the marketing director for the Jays was following me on Twitter, and months later a new logo was born.dddddddddddd Also, my therapist says I have something called a narcissistic personality disorder. Football. In 1998, I moved to Los Angeles to pursue the dream of being rich and famous which is why you know me so well today. That same year I became a fan of an upstart outfit known as the Baltimore Ravens because I thought Ray Lewis was almost definitely innocent of murder and I am obsessed with Edgar Allan Poe. Fifteen glorious seasons later I have two championship rings (made of foil and buttons) as my testament. I have correctly predicted, in pre-season, the Super Bowl participants for 13 consecutive years and I defy you to prove otherwise. (Note: Please dont reference my Twitter feed. Just be cool. This claim is all I have.) Hockey. I worked camera on the 2003 documentary A Day in the Life of the Maple Leafs so I know a thing or two about hockey. Well, exactly two things. One, when I was eight years old, my teenage neighbour convinced me his Mats Naslund rookie card could be mine for the extremely low price of my 1979 O-Pee-Chee Wayne Gurtski rookie card. (Note: I have forgotten how to spell that particular Edmonton Oilers name. At least my night terrors have subsided.) Two, I have developed an algorithm demonstrating the NHL to be the worst run league in the history of Industry. It involves a complicated geometric measurement involving my eyes and common sense. (A fact I will gladly prove over and over again until they, oh I dont know, realign the conferences to have an equal amount of teams. Lets start there.) Fantasy Sports. I Am Legend. In its heyday of 2001, my sprawling website, mikegallay.com, was a sports fantasy powerhouse boasting 16 writers covering all sports, catering to an audience of nearly 16 unique daily readers (and fans of ravines who misspelled mygulley.com). Chances are, if you were a Canadian sports fan in the early 2000s, you were reading articles about topics we also covered on mikegallay.com. The Professor And Mary Ann. I will happily cover all the secondary sports every time a participant either murders someone, is attacked by a spouse using the tools of their own sport, has sex on camera on TMZ, or breaks an important racial, cultural or gender barrier while also keeping our interest for more than eight minutes. Thats my pledge. Am I the precisely correct author to bring you whimsical, satirical, deadly accurate analysis of the sports that matter to you? Absolutely. And can I say that with total sincerity because part of my contract stipulates I have no editor? Two for two. Have I earned your attention to read my column next week? Lets put it this way. My topic will be 23 Ways to Make Over 7K a Week Working Part Time From Your Couch. My third column will be Bardown Seeks New Columnist, No Experience Required. Gallays Poll #1 What would you like to see Gallay write about in his next column? a) A 20,000-word essay conclusively proving Mike is the third Williams sister. b) Doug Gilmours Secret Recipes for 3am Snacks. c) My Weekend In The Hamptons With Barry Bonds. d) No column, just use this space to expand Badminton coverage. ' ' '