The man's quick exit stage left with his broomstick in a gunny sack suggests that the most grievous wound he suffered was to his mean, mean pride. That itself can cut like a knife, but it feels all right when compared to serious physical injury. Eskimos' vice president of communications and marketing Dave Jamieson told The Edmonton Journal the man left before receiving medical attention, which suggests he's in good shape:
"He kind of waved people off, said he didn't need help," said Dave Jamieson. "Then he left, he ran back up the stairs and was gone. Presumably, he's OK. He seemed unhurt."
The Eskimos are trying to track Broomstick Hero down to give him tickets for a game next year, but they still haven't found who they're looking for. He's no blue-collar slave to the grind, as he apparently wasn't an employee of the Bee-Clean janitorial company that regularly does work at the stadium. People from the Bissell Centre (a local mission that organized groups of homeless to clean the stands through their casual labour program) don't recognize him as part of their group, either. He was last seen in a black toque, a dark green jacket and black pants, carrying his trusty broom and letting there be rock instead of sweeping snow, which you can see after the jump:
It's possible we'll never know just who was that toqued man, anyway, as he's danced off into the Edmonton sunset, run to the hills and is presumably out there somewhere living after midnight. Still, if anyone ever makes Broomstick Hero, we'll know where they got the idea. This guy was about to rock, and for that, we'll salute him until his dancing days are here again.