Even on the saddest of days, as we mourn the loss of Ken Miller, he can still make me chuckle.
I just have to recall our many interactions during the five seasons he spent with the Saskatchewan Roughriders.
He revelled in the one-liners he dispensed in fine style.
And, oh, did he love to laugh.
His post-practice media gatherings were as candid as they were comedic.
He was not one for the slightest of secrecy — occasionally to the chagrin of upper management, which would have preferred that he keep a few things in-house.
Let’s just say he was not inclined to utter “upper-body injury.”
When asked about the status of a banged-up player, Miller would barely stop short of pulling out the X-rays.
If a lineup change was in the works, he would tell the media — often without prompting.
It was an unconventional formula, but one that worked for him and, ultimately, for the Green and White.
Miller was a finalist for CFL coach-of-the-year honours during all three full seasons (2008, 2009 and 2010) in which he was the Roughriders’ chief strategist.
With Miller as the offensive co-ordinator, Saskatchewan won the Grey Cup in 2007.
After he succeeded Kent Austin as the head coach, the Roughriders enjoyed the best start in the franchise’s post-Second World War history — 6-0, in 2008 — and appeared in the championship games of 2009 and 2010.
The accomplishments, by themselves, were Miller’s ticket to the SaskTel Plaza of Honour. He entered the Riders’ shrine two years ago.
But there was so much more to this wonderful man than wins and losses, X’s and O’s.
His basic humanity and absolute decency stand out when I remember a great friend.
We had this routine, back in the day.
When Ken was the head coach and I was a carnivorous columnist with the Regina Leader-Post, I used to chat with him informally before his media scrum.
The protocol dictated that the players be interviewed before the head coach. If I had a lighter load, player-wise, I would amble over to Ken and join him on the bench while we both waited for his turn to be grilled.
Not once did I try to milk him for information.
Instead, we talked about families, or baseball, or virtually anything under the sun.
As much as he loved football and cared for “the men in the locker room,” there was so much more to the man.
In his late teens, he worked for the presidential campaign of John F. Kennedy.
A teacher at heart, Ken earned a master’s degree in education at Azuza Pacific University in southern California.
This articulate and learned man could talk about anything, with anyone.
We had some deep conversations but, more often than not, our chats would be punctuated by laughter. His jokes, unsurprisingly, better than mine.
He was blessed with a fabulous sense of humour. His face absolutely lit up after he delivered a zinger.
If I had to play the role of straight man, well, I was happy to conspire. All in the name of a few yuks.
One time, as he approached the media mob, he inquired: “Rob, would you like cliches or sarcasm?”
Sarcasm for $100, Alex.
The next few minutes were a beautiful thing to experience.
One fine day, early in the week, he shared a nugget with me.
After a Roughriders loss, a frustrated fan had composed a letter and sent it to the head coach, who welcomed all correspondence.
The letter was mailed late in the week by someone who was disenchanted with the most-recent performance of Darian Durant.
“Doubles” proceeded to lacerate the opposing defence in the Roughriders’ next game.
Then, on a Monday, the letter arrived at the stadium.
Ken, bless his heart, could not resist planting that little gem with me.
He met with reporters shortly thereafter, whereupon I posed a question — while attempting to keep a straight face — that alluded to some of the heat Durant had been facing and, ultimately, overcoming.
“Well, Rob, funny you should mention that …”
And he was off.
Easiest column of my life.
This is one of the toughest.
At the dawn of August 2024, everything was fine in the rich lives of Ken and Maureen Miller, of Asheville, N.C.
Ken had mowed the lawn barely two weeks ago.
But then something didn’t feel quite right.
He was soon diagnosed with cancer. It was a short battle — one Maureen handled as only she could.
Ken and Maureen arrived in and left Saskatchewan as a tag team.
Maureen immersed himself in a community she quickly came to love. You could find her all over Regina, whether she was riding her bicycle, participating in the dragon boat races, or lending her time and good name to a worthy cause.
Even after leaving Saskatchewan, she and Ken kept in close touch with their beloved “Regina family.”
Post-football, Ken and Maureen enjoyed a quiet, yet productive, life in the fine company of their dog — the ideally named Rider.
A multi-faceted gentleman, Ken pursued his passion for art and routinely posted his paintings on Facebook.
Ken Miller, too, was a genuine original.
