Is This the Week I Get Back Into Hockey?

So the NHL playoffs begin this week. The Red Wings begin their post-season Thursday against the Calgary Flames (and old friend Darren McCarty). The Wings' marketing department has rolled out their new slogan for the Stanley Cup run: Join the Red Wave.

Usually, I'm less than impressed by these dippy rallying cries, but there's something appropriate about this one. In past years, there was no "joining" in Detroit. You'd been following the Wings all season long. There was no playoff bandwagon to jump onto. Everyone was already excited and eagerly anticipating the affirmation that the playoffs would surely bring.

But now, it does kind of feel like fans need to be recruited. More specifically, they need to be reminded. The Wings once ruled Detroit. You know, "Hockeytown" and all that. Sure, maybe some of that was because the Pistons and Tigers were down, but there was also a genuine love and passion for the team. And for the sport.

I know I need to myself that at one point, I loved hockey. I couldn't get enough of either the NHL or college games. Come playoff time, nothing mattered more than the Wings game. I cancelled dates. (And as you might imagine, they were rarely, if ever, rescheduled.) I tried to grow a playoff beard as the weather neared summer temperatures because that's just what you did at that time of year.

I alienated family members by sticking to my superstitions. Every time I watched the first period of a Wings playoff game, they seemed to lose. So I'd listen to the first period on the radio, sometimes in another room, sometimes in the car. One Sunday afternoon in May of 1998, the family had gathered for a birthday dinner, and someone wanted to turn on the game. I told everyone my superstition, and of course, everyone laughed. But I was serious. I was not going to watch that game on TV. There was too much at stake.

So while the rest of my family ate dinner, I sat in my car to listen to the beginning of the Wings game. And I ate my meal during the first intermission. The Wings won their second straight Stanley Cup that year. I'm comfortable with my decision.

But I can't imagine doing such a thing now. At least not for a hockey game. (I could think of several reasons to bail on my extended family during a meal, however.)

I wrote a Red Wings preview for a magazine assignment, and listening to various analysts give me quotes about Henrik Zetterberg, Nicklas Lidstrom, and Dominik Hasek stirred up some of those old feelings. I thought that writing that article might reignite my interest for hockey. But I didn't watch any regular season games this year, other than when Steve Yzerman's jersey was retired. And I barely checked to see how the Wings were doing. If a blog I normally read decides to write about hockey that day, I often either just skim the post or skip it altogether. And as I'm off to another site, I find myself thinking, "Why is he writing about hockey? No one cares anymore."

What got me thinking about all this is an article in today's Detroit News. Apparently, I'm not the only one who's either trying to re-familiarize myself with the sport or just turning away from it altogether. Who's got tickets? The Red Wings do. Lots of 'em. Need an entire row? Operators are standing by. 2,500 season ticket holders passed on playoff tickets.

Times are most definitely tough around here economically, and those seats ain't getting any cheaper, but that's almost unheard of. Maybe people decided to throw their ticket money at the Tigers this year.

Anyway, I think I'll tune in on Thursday night. Although I do love The Office (Oh, does someone do a podcast about that show? Ahem.) and 30 Rock...

▪▪ While I'm on the subject of hockey, belated congratulations to the Michigan State hockey team for winning the national championship on Saturday night. I got home in time to catch the third period, and was rewarded with one hell of an ending. If I recall correctly, MSU was "the hockey school" in the state when I started to become familiar with college hockey. And Munn Ice Arena is always a nice place to catch a game (though not as loud as Yost - c'mon, you know I'm right). So a tip of the cap to Sparty for bringing a trophy back to Michigan.

Has It Really Been 10 Years?

Wow, I was asleep at the wheel today. (In a figurative sense, that is. Not a literal, Tony La Russa sense.) Until getting my daily dose of The Wayne Fontes Experience, I didn't realize today was the 10-year anniversary of The Fight. (Clearly, I didn't read any newspapers - or their blogs - today.) How in the hell could I forget? I should never, ever be that busy.

I don't know if that's what it's typically referred to among Detroit fans. You might have to be more specific than that. (The Brawl refers to something else entirely.) But if you include the names of the two combatants, Darren McCarty and Claude Lemieux, you should promptly get a smile of recognition. It was one of the most infamously memorable nights in Detroit sports history.

It's sort of a cop-out, which I apologize for, but I wrote about this almost two years ago on my personal blog, Fried Rice Thoughts. So I think I'll just cut-and-paste what I wrote back then, because it's pretty much what I would say now. (Besides, if the Free Press can rerun articles on this, why can't I?) The post was my Top 10 most memorable sports moments, and the McCarty-Lemieux heavyweight bout was #3 on the list.

3. Darren McCarty pummels Claude Lemieux - March 26, 1997: I don't generally care for fighting in hockey. But occasionally, it serves a sadistically delicious purpose. To me, that was never truer than when Detroit's McCarty sought out Colorado's Lemieux, who seriously injured Kris Draper by shoving his face into the boards during their 1996 playoff series. The next time these teams played, before the puck even dropped to start the game, McCarty attacked Lemieux, and began beating him like a chef pounding a veal cutlet. Lemieux turtled into a protective shell for self-preservation, and was essentially never heard from again. If raw meat had been in front of me while watching this, I would've eaten it, wiped the blood from my chin, rewound the tape and watched the whole thing all over again.

I also wrote a little bit more about it when Brendan Shanahan left the Red Wings for the New York Rangers.

I'm not sure I've ever felt more bloodthirsty while watching a sporting event, yet also feeling strangely touched over a guy defending his teammate's honor. It was another three months before the Wings officially became NHL champions, but I'm sure many fans would agree that they won the Stanley Cup that night.

Man, I miss Darren McCarty...

To Fight or Not to Fight?

I never got around to writing it, but shortly after the brawl between Ottawa and Buffalo a couple of weeks ago, I wanted to say that the NHL should go back to embracing its roots, rather than try to chase mass-market appeal.

The NHL took its shot at cultural relevance by turning its back on Canada and moving into the southern and Sun Belt portions of the United States, but that market just doesn't exist, and you can't even say hockey is the "fourth major sport" in this country and keep a straight face. It became roadkill to NASCAR long ago. (I really wanted to use an auto racing term there, but would've exposed myself as a total poseur.)

To me, the NHL is like Las Vegas. Remember when Vegas tried to re-invent itself as a family-friendly alternative to Disneyland? That tanked like ESPN Hollywood. So Vegas decided to once again embrace the decadence and depravity that made it such a destination in the first place. I thought the NHL needed to do the same thing. A lot of observers and fans might make faces when they see highlights of fights breaking out on SportsCenter, but hey, that Ottawa-Buffalo melee moved hockey up the queue for a couple of nights. Embrace the niche appeal of the sport. Bring back its cult appeal. And at one time, that worked pretty well.

One of the first arguments you'll hear in favor of allowing fighting in the NHL is that it would eliminate some of the stick work. Rather than resorting to channeling their pent-up rage through the weapon they're carrying in their hands, players can challenge their antagonists to drop the gloves, trade some punches, and settle the matter like men.

I don't know if I completely agree with that contention. Is the cause and effect of fighting vs. slashing really that starkly obvious? But hey, I've never played hockey either.

Would being allowed to fight have prevented Chris Simon from whipping his stick into Ryan Hollweg's face in one of the more frightening plays you'll ever see? Who knows? Simon's a proven neanderthal and his total lack of self-control might have led him toward such an action anyway. But this is the type of incident that truly stains professional hockey's reputation and prevents it from acceptance within the culture at-large.

Simon's been suspended indefinitely by the NHL, which somehow seems appropriate. Not in terms of the punishment; Simon should be kept away from an ice rink for a long time. But the word "indefinite" applies to the NHL and its identity as a sport.

I don't know if the corollary I'm trying to draw here makes any sense. It's probably unfair to project Chris Simon's psychotic tendencies onto the league as a whole. So maybe it's a stretch. But it does seem to reflect a larger problem that hockey's been struggling with over the past decade-and-a-half.

A salute to Shanny

I had the sound turned down on the TV when I saw the news on Sunday morning. But I didn't need to hear anything. Over Jay Harris' shoulder on SportsCenter was a head-shot of Brendan Shanahan with a New York Rangers logo next to it. And I sat down on the corner of my bed and said "damn."

Maybe it was the cumulative effect of three of Detroit's biggest stars leaving within a week. Or maybe this was the one that got to me, because I'd expected Steve Yzerman and Ben Wallace to leave town. I realized Shanahan could leave too, but I guess I thought he might retire as a Red Wing. And now, it looks like we really are seeing the end of an era in "Hockeytown."

It doesn't feel quite right to be writing on Shanahan when I haven't written about Yzerman yet. There aren't many other Detroit athletes I feel more strongly about. On the other hand, there are plenty of other tributes to find elsewhere in the blogosphere and internet, and I'm not sure I have much else to add - for now.

Had Shanahan really been here for 10 years? (Okay, nine seasons.) That's the first thing that struck me. Man, time really flies. I still remember the talk that the Wings might get him in a deal, and how incredible that would be for their Stanley Cup prospects. Even when he first took the ice against Edmonton wearing the winged wheel (arriving at Joe Louis Arena shortly before warm-ups), after Budd Lynch announced his name, I couldn't believe it. Because this was the guy. This was the guy that truly made Detroit a championship team. A big power forward who scored goals and wasn't afraid to fight, not one the quick little gnats that made for great, high-scoring regular seasons, but got pounded by the New Jersey Devils.

And if there was any question as to whether he was truly a Red Wing, Shanahan answered that for certain months later when he sped across the ice to cross-body block Patrick Roy like a pro wrestler. Darren McCarty had to beat the $#!+ out of Claude Lemieux that night, to defend the honor of his teammate, Kris Draper, and to show the Avalanche that Detroit was the best team in the NHL. Shanahan knew that, and was right in the middle of it. It didn't become official for another three months, but I'd make the argument that the Wings won the Stanley Cup in late March.

My favorite Shanahan moment occurred later in that '97 postseason. It might seem kind of strange because it wasn't a particularly spectacular goal, nor was it terribly important. But oh man, was it symbolic. When I think of Shanahan's career as a Red Wing, I think of his empty-net goal against Colorado in Game 6 of the Western Conference Finals. That absolutely clinched the game, and the series, and a hard-fought playoff victory over one of the most hated rivals the city of Detroit has ever had. I don't need a TV highlight; I can see the smile on Shanahan's face - arms raised triumphantly, his teammates celebrating with him - when I close my eyes.

There were other Stanley Cup victories and celebrations, of course. But I suppose you never forget your first, as a fan. And that one's always going to be special.

Was that really almost ten years ago? And now, Shanahan - seeing the proverbial handwriting on the wall with an early-round playoff loss and Yzerman's retirement - is moving on to New York, seeking a "new challenge," and acknowledging to the Free Press' Mitch Albom that he's more a part of the Red Wings' past than its future. That's about as honest an exit as I've ever heard from a professional athlete - especially in recent years.

I've heard some bitterness from jilted Detroit hockey fans, and I understand that. The usual sentiment is to say "Fine! We didn't need you, anyway!" when a guy decides to leave town. (And Shanahan's poor playoff performance vs. Edmonton adds some bile to that venom.) But I don't agree with that - not this time. This isn't about taking more money. This isn't a sour split between a team and a player.

Is there a little bit of getting out while the getting's still good? Probably. But I can't blame Shanahan for that. Things are going to be changing at Joe Louis Arena. Have you ever been at a job when most of your buddies have moved on? Did you feel like you didn't want to be the last one to turn the light off? He sees fewer familiar faces in that locker room. An icon just retired. And maybe a better opportunity exists elsewhere - especially in regards to his post-hockey career.

If the rumblings are true, Shanahan eventually wants to work in the NHL offices. And having organized the "Shanahan Summit" during the most recent NHL lockout, he's already shown a knack for negotiation, organization, and vision. So New York is a smart place for him to be right now. How can you begrudge him for seeing that?

So no hard feelings here. If I had a hockey stick, I'd raise it in salute. You were a part of one of my favorite teams ever. Thanks for the memories, Shanny. I'll be keeping an eye on you with the Rangers. See if you can get those poor New Yorkers a Stanley Cup in the process.

(Photo by David Guralnick/ Detroit News)

Elsewhere in Detroit, a bittersweet Sunday

This will just never look right to me. I hate seeing Darren McCarty in another team's uniform.



(Image by David Guralnick/ Detroit News)

I imagine most, if not all, Detroit sports fans feel the same way. Here are the reports on Darren McCarty's Sunday return to "Hockeytown" from the Detroit Free Press and Detroit News.

I've written about my admiration and appreciation for D-Mac previously at my mother ship blog, Fried Rice Thoughts. So rather than repeat myself, I'll just let those blog entries speak for themselves. Carry on.