Eric Duhatschek has a good piece on the revival of the Chicago Blackhawks in this morning’s Globe and Mail. “It’s reminiscent of the old Chicago Stadium days,” he writes, “where the intimate, charming squalor and booming pipe organ created a mood for professional hockey unlike any other in the NHL. Once upon a time, playing in Chicago was a daunting proposition; the closed-in feeling of the old Stadium, which was slightly smaller than the standard 200-by-85-foot NHL rink dimension, and the sense that the crowd was right on top of the players, created an intimacy that was lost in the move to the United Center.”
That reminded me of this piece that I wrote after attending the closing of the Chicago Stadium in 1994:
Remember the Roar
If you ever find yourself in the midst of more than 18,000 Americans whipped into a nationalistic frenzy, you will never forget it. I learned this last April when I travelled to Chicago to watch a hockey game between the Chicago Blackhawks and the Toronto Maple Leafs. Well, actually, the game was almost incidental. My friends and I really flew to the Windy City for the singing of “The Star-Spangled Banner.”
Two events — one planned, one tragic — only served to heighten the emotions in the building that night. First, it was the last regular season game to be played at the 65-year-old stadium before it was destroyed in favour of an arena designed to maximize revenue. Second, Wayne Messmer, the man who sings the anthems at the Stadium, was fighting for his life in hospital after having been shot in the neck by a 15-year-old with a handgun only five days earlier.
To mark the closing of the Madhouse on Madison St., the Blackhawks lowered the banners of the four Hawk greats who have had their numbers retired. Glenn Hall was the first former star to be introduced. Best known for throwing up before games and playing 502 consecutive contests, Mr. Goalie ambled along the red carpet so slowly, at first I wondered if he was not well. Then I realized he just wanted to savour every second. When his banner reached the ice and was handed to him, he held it up and grinned so hard his face must have been in danger of exploding.
When Tony Esposito was introduced, the fans began to chant “To-ny, To-ny, To-ny.” Unlike Hall, Mr. Zero strode out briskly and seemed overwhelmed by it all. Stan Mikita, the great playmaker who spent 22 years in a Hawk uniform, played the ham, egging on the crowd, as it cheered reverentially. Once handed his banner, he threw it over his head.
The climax was, of course, Bobby Hull. The Golden Jet owned Chicago during his 15 years there, and the Hawks lost many fans when he defected to the upstart World Hockey Association in 1972. The crowd went wild as Hull race-walked his way down the carpet, threw his banner around him like a cape and then shook the hand of everyone in sight.
Stirring as this ceremony was, it was just a warm-up for the anthems. Announcer Pat Foley read a statement from Wayne Messmer and then introduced Wayne’s wife, Kathleen, who stood where her husband should have been beside an honour guard in the organ box. Foley went on to ask the crowd to “raise the roof” in honour of Messmer during the taped anthem. After “O Canada” — which more people in the Stadium sang than do at Maple Leaf Gardens — it was time for “The Star-Spangled Banner.”
As a schoolboy, I was taught to stand at attention during a national anthem. (I believe people in Chicago learn this too, because the next day we sat in the bleachers at Wrigley Field and watched as people took caps off and held them to chests, turned and faced the American flag flapping above the scoreboard and proudly sang along with another tape of Messmer singing “The Star-Spangled Banner.”) In Chicago Stadium, however, they do it differently. People sing, clap, cheer, whistle, light sparklers, punch balloons in the air and generally work themselves into ecstasy. It’s a tradition that began about a decade ago and then took on a life of its own during the Gulf War.
From the first note, the noise was deafening and the emotion overwhelming. But what astonished me was how it built. With each bar, the thunder defied logic by growing louder. Meanwhile, the eyes of the working class Chicago men who go to Blackhawk games — not to mention the odd Canadian visitor — grew more than a little misty.
After the game, we poured out of the old Stadium onto Madison St. and looked up to see the images of current Hawk stars being flashed on the wall of the new United Center. It looks impressive enough, but everyone leaving the Stadium, knew it could never be the same. The spaciousness alone will change the acoustics and lower the volume. The famous organ won’t make the trip because it would have cost a reported $1 million to move it. And, most importantly, it will take another 65 years before the new building can even approach the sense of place and tradition that permeates the old one.
Inevitably, I thought of the day when the closing ceremonies are held at Maple Leaf Gardens. Although I have been a fan of the Boston Bruins since before Bobby Orr — and no amount of knee injuries can ever change that — the Gardens is, to me, the home of hockey. It will be a sad, sad day when they lower the banners there. It just won’t be as loud as it was at Chicago Stadium.
I am no fan of hockey’s designated goon — the marginal skater who plays four and a half minutes a game and is really just in the lineup to fight — but I don’t really have a problem with two talented players dropping the gloves. Last night Milan Lucic, the promising young power forward with the Boston Bruins, and Mike Komisarek, a good defenceman with the Montreal Canadiens, went at it. Watch the video — or, more properly, listen to it — and tell me the fans don’t like fights. The Garden crowd is going absolutely nuts.
I’ve often wondered if some of the bad Zamboni drivers I’ve seen were drunk, but police actually arrested this one in an Kingsville, Ontario, arena.
Philadelphia Flyer fans did the predicted and booed Sarah Palin when she dropped the puck at the team’s season opener. Although some people in the crowd did clap and cheer, “their warm reception was no match for the 90 seconds of sustained booing that rumbled through the arena.”
Ed Snider is the owner of the Philadelphia Flyers, a team I’ve had no respect for since the mid-1970s. He is also a big Republican donor. So I am not surprised that he wants Sarah Palin to drop the puck at the team’s home opener on Saturday. But Ted Leonsis, owner of divisional rivals Washington Capitals, doesn’t think it’s a great idea: “I am surprised that the candidate would go on the ice in Philly β Philly fans threw snowballs at Santa Claus and booed Beyonce because she was wearing a Michael Jordan dress. This is dangerous territory.”
Sean Avery, now playing for the Dallas Stars, has a lot more in common with Don Cherry than he’d like to admit — including a knack for a good quote: βHe serves a purpose. But he really does not know shit about hockey. He knows, like, unnecessary facts about putting Sears catalogues on your shin pads.β
(A clink of my glass to James Mirtle.)
Congrats to Igor Larionov and Glenn Anderson, two deserving additions to the Hockey Hall of Fame. But once again the Hall has overlooked Rick “Nifty” Middleton, who scored 448 goals and 988 points in 1005 NHL games. He also won the Lady Byng Memorial Trophy in 1981-82. Best of all, he was a delight to watch.