Author Matthew Heneghan

There are certain voices that become part of the soundtrack of your life. Voices that, even if you’ve never met their owners, feel like old friends. Darren Dutchyshen, or “Dutch” as he was affectionately known, was one of those voices. His passing feels like losing a friend I never had the chance to know. So many afternoons spent listening to his resonant baritone regale of last evening’s games. He wore a suit and tie, yet his humour crooned of comfy jeans and a favorite t-shirt. He had a wit all his own.

I learned about Dutch’s death while nursing a cup of coffee, the kind that’s too bitter to be called a ‘pick-me-up’ but strong enough to kickstart your heart. It was a typical morning — gray skies, a hint of rain in the air, and the quiet hum of the world waking up. But then, there it was, in black and white: “Darren Dutchyshen, 1966 – 2024.” Gone. Just like that. A vignette of his musings came to me, hidden among the steam that danced from my cup.

Dutchy was the kind of sports broadcaster you couldn’t help but love. He had a charisma that made you feel like you were right there with him, sitting on a worn-out couch, sharing a cold drink, and talking sports. His laughter was infectious, his enthusiasm genuine. He brought a sense of joy to the often too-serious world of sports journalism. An ambassador of the game.

Growing up, I’d watch TSN in the mornings before school and again when I’d get home. Dutch was a fixture in those moments, his voice a comforting presence in my otherwise uncertain world. He had that rare ability to make you care about the game, no matter what sport it was. He wasn’t just reporting scores; he was sharing stories, bringing athletes and their feats to life with his words, his timbre.

Hearing about his death hit me harder than I expected. It’s strange how someone you’ve never met can leave such a void. But that’s the magic of certain people — they touch your life in ways you don’t fully understand but appreciate all the same.

I think about all the times Dutch made me laugh, made me think, made me care. And I think about the countless others who felt the same way. His passing isn’t just a loss for sports fans; it’s a loss for anyone who values passion, authenticity, and a good laugh. This is Canada’s loss, but it will resonate beyond our borders.

In moments like this, it’s easy to get lost in the ‘what-ifs’ and the ‘never-agains.’ But maybe the best way to honour Dutch is to remember the joy he brought, the passion he shared, and the authenticity he embodied. It’s to carry a piece of that spirit with us, to strive to bring a little more of that joy, that passion, into our own lives. His courage when battling cancer was inspiring. When he returned to TV after leaving to wage war with that dreaded disease, it was like having an old friend stop by for a visit.

So here’s to you, Dutch. Thank you for the laughter, the excitement, and the countless memories. You were a legend, a voice that will be sorely missed but never forgotten. Rest easy, my friend. And may your legacy live on in every highlight, every game, and every heart you touched. Believe me, you touched many.

In the end, it’s not the years in your life that count, but the life in your years. And Dutch, you lived those years well. You made a difference, and for that, I thank you.

Rest in peace, Dutchy. The game won’t be the same without you.