Game #9 – The Ohio State Buckeyes v. Michigan Wolverines – Big Ten Conference - Schottenstein Center - Columbus, Ohio

I have been coming to Columbus for over 20 years now, a by-product of being married to the official, Ohio State University recognized, 2012 worldwide Buckeye of the Year. My first time here was on the eve of the 1997 Stanley Cup Finals, and I demanded that any plans made would involve me watching Game 1 of the eventual Wings sweep of the Flyers.  Tonight, however, is the latest bout in the ancient rivalry between Ohio State and Michigan. Though not as nasty or historic as the football feud between these two schools, the hatred OSU fans have for UM is still palpable tonight. Numerous renditions of “I Don’t Give A Damn For The Whole State of Michigan” this evening prove that.

The puck I caught 

I’ve seen these two teams play before: At Yost in Ann Arbor, at Joe Louis Arena in the CCHA tournamount, and even in an outdoor game at Progressive Field in Cleveland (I am so over outdoor hockey games, but that’s another story). One of the more notable hockey memories I have is seeing a game between these two teams in the Schottenstein Center, circa 2003, a shot off the crossbar, heading directly toward us, and, without thinking, I caught it barehanded. The crowd gave me a nice hand, and Jim Hunt, our friend and then-radio voice of the Wolverines, gave me props on the air. I still have the puck.

I returned in 1998 to see the Michigan State University hockey Spartans, led by Hobey Baker finalists Chad Alban and Mike York, lose to the Buckeyes in a game played at the old OSU hockey rink. That rink was nothing special: a small, decrepit and old. It lacked any sort of character, and could have been any ratty community ice rink, not at the home of one of the largest universities in the country. Indeed, the game was stopped two or three times because the puck hit the ceiling during play. This substandard playing facility was replaced by its exact polar opposite with the opening of the Jerome Schottenstein Center, a full sized arena as good as any NHL rink at the time it was built. Both the OSU hockey and basketball teams play there, and the upper bowl of the arena is obscured by a curtain during hockey games to hide the empty upper bowl seats.

 

There are more memories that come forth. The pregame video showed a montage of former Buckeyes who went on to play in the NHL. One of them, Jamie Macoun, is shown raising the Stanley Cup as a member of the Red Wings in 1998. That year, on impulse, Michelle and I secured tickets to Game 4 of the Finals, and, with our friend Tim Adams, we traveled to Washington D.C. to see the Red Wings win the second of back to back Stanley Cups. The arena that night was filled with Red Wing fans, and when Steve Yzerman raised the Cup over his head, there was a loud, resonating “YEAH” that I clearly remember, perhaps even clearer than the first Cup a year earlier. Tonight, Tim, a resident of Columbus, meets us at the game, a mini-reunion of that glorious road trip of 20 years ago. I am certain we are the only three people in the arena, perhaps the city, perhaps even the state, who were in attendance at that historic game to see Steve Yzerman place the Stanley Cup on the lap of the fallen Vladimir Konstantinov. To have been there, in Washington D.C., to see the Red Wings win the Cup, a year after seeing it won at home, is one of my most cherished memories…not just of the game of hockey, but life itself.

Next, I look up to see the banner denoting Ohio State’s lone Frozen Four appearance, coming in, yet again, 1998. That year, they defeated Michigan State in a thrilling overtime game in, of all places, Yost Ice Arena, the site of the NCAA West Regional that year. The teams matched up against each other well, and had played the week before at Joe Louis Arena for the CCHA playoff championship. That game also went to OT, and MSU would win the conference title on a goal by Shawn Horcoff, who would go on to a very good NHL career. I was at both games. The game played between OSU and MSU at the home of both of their biggest rival was, looking back on it, a surreal experience. It also was one of the most heartbreaking losses I’ve ever experienced. That 1998 MSU team was poised for glory. It had two of the best players in the country, and had finished an incredible 33-6-5. They had the bad luck to play a team that matched up very well against them and it would be Ohio State’s best ever playoff run in the NCAA tournament, ending a game later at the hands of Boston College. That year, the University of Michigan would have the last laugh over both of its rivals, winning the national championship on an OT goal over Boston College by freshman Josh Langfeld. This was a most bitter ending to such a promising season for the Spartans.

The game winning OT goal by Ohio State that eliminates the Michigan State Spartans from the 1998 NCAA tournament, played at Yost Ice Arena in Ann Arbor. 

The Blue Jackets arrived in Columbus in 2000, and the city finally had its first major professional sports team. After years of poor management, they would finally make the playoffs in 2009, but were swept by the defending Cup champion Red Wings. The home of the Blue Jackets, Nationwide Arena, was, until Little Caesars Arena, the nicest arena I had ever been in. I have seen numerous games there, mostly involving the Red Wings, occasionally without them, and I even saw my one and only NHL All Star Game there in 2015.

So, there are many hockey memories that converge in Columbus, so tonight’s game is a welcome return to familiar ground. The game itself is a spirited one, but Ohio State is the much better team, and, despite an early goal by the Wolverines, the Buckeyes win the game by a score of 5-3. The arena is pretty much sold out (black curtain notwithstanding) and the crowd is enthusiastic, prompted by an oversized pep band leading cheers. Despite this, there is little of the vitriol I’ve seen when these two teams play football. There are no expletives flying at the hated Wolverines, nor any observed harassment of them as they go in and off the ice. Michelle, the 2012 Buckeye of the year, after listening to the band play Carmen Ohio, the official Ohio State alma mater these song, left the arena a happy girl.

After a wonderful brunch the next morning, and a stop at Buckeye Donuts on the way out of town, we head home. But, we would be stopping in Toledo first.  

Game #8 – Detroit Red Wings v. Philadelphia Flyers – National Hockey League - Little Caesars Arena - Detroit, Michigan

Tonight, I am back at the new Little Caesars Arena, admittedly at the last second when tickets on the secondary market were cheap. The Red Wings continue to limp through the season at around the .500 mark, and much trade speculation is whirling about. This is going to be a very interesting off season.

While watching the game tonight (an eventual 3-2 Flyers win in OT) I thought of another game between these two teams played in Detroit 20 years, 7 months and 17 days ago.

June 7, 1997.

On June 7, 1997, the Detroit Red Wings won the Stanley Cup at Joe Louis Arena, defeating the Philadelphia Flyers in a four game sweep. I was there with my parents and cousin Kristina. Like a lot of 20-year-old memories, even extraordinary ones, some things from that night are fuzzy, worn down by time. Other things are as sharp as if they happened last week. It was the climax of a saga that saw the Red Wings rise from the worst team in the NHL to Stanley Cup champion in 11 years. For many of us Wings fans, seeing our team heavily favored for several years only to be inevitably denied a Cup win, this evening was as much relief as happiness. They (and us fans) had finally made it. Nobody knew it then, but that night would be the first of four Cup wins over the next 11 years, making the Wings a modern day hockey dynasty.

Entering Joe Louis Arena that warm June night, there was a surrealness and anxiousness to it all. Having won the first three games of the Finals, it was pretty much a foregone conclusion the Wings would win the Cup…. but in Detroit? Or would Philly win Game 4 to take the party away from us? Against a very good Flyers club, the Wings took advantage of poor goaltending and, using the Russian style of puck possession, kept the puck away from Eric Lindros and his mighty Legion of Doom line, shutting them down the entire series. Lindros, that generation’s hockey prodigy, would never get that close to a Cup again.

McCarty scoring the Stanley Cup winning goal

Entering the third period, the Wings led 2-0 on goals by Nicklas Lidstrom and a freakish Mario Lemiuexesque goal by Darren McCarty (to this day, I have no memory of that goal, other than the replays). Despite the lead, I had a knot in my stomach. The end of the game was coming, We had a comfortable lead. The celebration was c

oming. The realization of the dreams of millions was coming. But we weren’t there yet.

As play continued on the ice, the crowd would break out in spontaneous cheering as the clock wound down. Waves of noise rising, falling, then rising again. With about 2 minutes left in the third period, the noise got louder, with many waving the white pom poms that the team gave out. On the ice, the Wings showed no emotion, and went about their business as if it was some random game in January. Suddenly, spontaneously, everyone in the arena rose to their feet, cheering. The waves of noise gave way to a constant roar. I saw grown men starting to cry. Some people had serious looks on their faces, masking their excitement, still worrying their hopes would be crushed. The floor shook. The emotional part of my head caught up to my logical one, and I said to Kristina, “my God, we are about to win the Stanley Cup!” The Flyers pulled their goalie. It was coming. We all knew it. A two goal lead. After years of watching NHL hockey, it wouldn’t be Edmonton, Montreal, or Pittsburgh. It would be the Red Wings. Our Red Wings. My Red Wings. Budd Lynch announced the last minute of play with a flourish. The crowd got louder. The Wings and Flyers kept battling, and a few missed shots on the empty Flyer net elicited a loud collective groan from the crowd, and the roar, momentarily subsided, came right back.  

Play was stopped. The crowd continued to roar. The DJ played the Phil Collins song “In The Air Tonight”. I looked for Steve Yzerman. He was my favorite player, almost a consistent presence in my life since I was in middle school. In the way he conducted himself on and off the ice, he defined class as a player and as a human being. At this moment, I was incredibly excited for him. I saw him standing up from his seat on the team bench. As captain, he would be the man to receive the Cup shortly. He had endured so much with this team – heartbreaking overtime losses, upsets at the hands of inferior teams, and even whispers that he was not the kind of player who would win anything. What was he thinking at a moment like this? He leaned forward, stick in hand, both hands on the rink dasher. Even from my seat in the upper bowl, I could see he was breathing heavily. The long journey for him was coming to its final destination.

Someone threw an octopus on the ice right before the faceoff. Everything stopped for Al Sobotka to come out to get it. The crowd booed. No matter what the octopus tradition was, it was an ill-timed toss. We all wanted to get this game over with. Finally, the puck was dropped, The clock ticked away. I went back and forth between watching the action and the clock. 30 seconds left, 20 seconds…the crowd roared…18…17…16…

Then Philly scored.  Eric Lindros, no less. With 15 seconds left in the game. It was now 2-1.

As loud as the Joe was previous to that moment, it was now instantly silent. The ghosts of past playoff disappointments flickered briefly in our collective minds. I immediately said to Kristina, ‘This will be a tense 15 seconds”. But, I also knew it would be pretty much a miracle for the Flyers to tie it up. Possible, but unlikely. The rest of the crowd knew it too, and the noise soon ramped right back up. There was a faceoff at center ice. Another whistle for an offside. Budd Lynch said something on the arena loudspeaker I couldn’t decipher. Another faceoff. 6 seconds left. The puck was lifted gently towards the Wings goal, where goalie Mike Vernon steered it away.

The final horn blared. The game was over.

Everything erupted. Everyone was cheering and the Joe got louder, if that was even possible. My family and I all hugged each other. I watched the Wings players all mob each other behind their goal. The Flyers solemnly gathered around their goal.  Television crews and photographers rushed onto the ice. The arena DJ was playing “Oh What A Night” by the Four Seasons, a perfect selection. It was unlike anything I had ever seen before. Then, in one of hockey’s great traditions, the two teams got into a line to shake hands. In this almost dreamlike environment, this tradition brought me back to reality. This was really happening. The Flyers, one by one, quietly disappeared from the ice.

Confetti rained down. Fireworks went off.

NHL commissioner Gary Bettman came out, and, in another great hockey tradition, was heavily booed.  He awarded the Conn Smythe Trophy to Mike Vernon, who would never again play for the Red Wings. Then, Phil Pritchard, still the keeper of the Cup to this day, in white gloves, brought out the most beautiful trophy in sports.

Bettman gave a little speech, but I couldn’t hear it. Steve Yzerman entered the picture. The Cup was on a table. We all knew what was coming next. Bettman went to give the trophy to Yzerman, but the transfer was an awkward one. Bettman stopped to pose for a picture as he was handing it off, and Yzerman, having grabbed the two ends of the trophy to raise it, wasn’t expecting him to pause. He dutifully waited for Bettman to pose. Finally, after a couple of moments, Bettman let go.

Yzerman, in one motion, lifted the Cup over his head, and a roar of which had never been heard in the history of Detroit hockey went up. I was almost dizzy. I was relieved. I was happy. I still was in disbelief. The image of Yzerman lifting the Cup over his head was something that I had imagined many times, but to see it in real life, with my own eyes, was mind blowing. I had sensory overload, and I had to tell myself to calm down and enjoy the moment. Which I did. Flashbulbs were going off everywhere. Yzerman, in a move that I had never seen before, took the Cup around the entire rink by himself in a victory lap. He would stop at the Wings bench, giving it briefly to a beeming Mike Ilitch. 

Tradition calls for the Cup to be handed off from the captain to a worthy NHL veteran, usually a first time Cup winner. Yzerman handed it off to Slava Fetisov, the legendary Russian defenseman who was the first high profile Russian player to play in the NHL. He and longtime teammate Igor Larionov both took the Cup for a skate, adding it to their impressive trophy cases. It went on and on until every player took a spin. Vladimir Konstantinov, six days away from the tragic limo accident that ended his playing career, got an especially loud ovation when he lifted the Cup, as did Mike Vernon. Scotty Bowman had changed clothes and put his skates on so he could skate around with the Cup. After every player and coach had a turn lifting the Cup, they gathered for the traditional informal team photo. This photo hangs in my house today, and I look at it every day. Yzerman is in the middle, smiling, and missing a tooth. Vernon is sprawled out in front, smoking a cigar. Everyone smiling. Even Scotty Bowman.

The Cup was then carried off to the Wing’s dressing room, and the Joe slowly emptied out, with many people staying around taking pictures. Leaving the arena with the other witnesses to this great evening, I had never seen such a collective group of happy people. High fiving. Screams of victory. Outside, police were on foot, horseback, and motorcycles to make sure the celebration didn’t get out of hand, which it never did. Everyone was too happy. I bought a locker room celebration hat, which I still have in mint condition. I wore it to my last game at the Joe, this past March.

My mom screamed so much she didn’t have a voice for two days after the game. Kristina would have to be at her job at Dunkin Donuts at 5:30 am the next morning, but, despite that, she was a trooper and enjoyed the moment as she should have. My dad, someone never interested in sports, yet had paid for years of expensive season tickets through his business so we could all see this incredible event, was impressed by the experience. “Worth every penny,” he told me that night.

Me? I thanked both of my parents for the opportunity to see something like this. I went home and sat in the dark for awhile. No matter what happened in the future, I had seen my team, the one I lived and died with for many years, win it all. The Red Wings had paid off their fans for the emotional investment we had put into them. We would always have this moment. And it was a sweet moment. There was a message on my answering machine (remember those?) from my then-girlfriend, now wife. “Congratulations!”  Michelle said to me on the tape. “I am sooooo happy for you!”.  She was visiting Toronto with her mom, and would later tell me of the many people she saw watching the game. Apparently even Toronto fans were happy that the Wings, a fellow Original Six team, had won. Little did Michelle know what would be in store for her a year later, when we would journey to Washington D.C. in pursuit of another Stanley Cup for the Red Wings.

But that’s another story.  

Game #7 - Windsor Spitfires v. Flint Firebirds – Ontario Hockey League - WFCU Centre - Windsor Ontario, Canada

We had to wait 20 minutes to get into Windsor. The border guard at the Detroit-Windsor tunnel was taking his sweet time, and while the lines of cars around us kept moving, we stayed still.. Having crossed the border hundreds of times before, Michelle and I knew the drill. Besides, they are nice when you want to come into Canada. The only jerks at border crossings are the American agents who seem to love to harass their fellow countrymen trying to get home.

“What is your purpose in Canada today?” the guard, a man in his mid 20’s, asked.

“They are going to the hockey game, I’m going to the casino” Michelle said. In this case, “they” meant myself and Csaba, our friend who is making his third appearance in The Month of Hockey.

“Who’s playing?” the guard, who was possibly sincerely interested in the answer, asked Michelle.

“Windsor.” Michelle said.

“Who are they playing?”

Michelle paused, then looked at me.

“The Flint Firebirds” I said, hoping my answer wouldn’t arouse suspicion in this inexperienced looking guard to make us pull over and get searched.

“Enjoy the game” he said, and handed us back our cards.

The Windsor Arena, former home of the Detroit Red Wing franchise

Windsor is just across river, and is actually geographically south of Detroit, meaning that it is the only place in North America where you have to look south to see into Canada. Hockey fans in Michigan take advantage of this proximity by watching Hockey Night In Canada on CBC, the best produced sports program in the world. Ron McLean and Don Cherry have been staples in my life for 30 years now. Also of note in Windsor, is that you can still visit the first home of the Detroit Red Wings. Even today, 31 years after Olympia Stadium fell to the wrecking ball, and Joe Louis Arena sits waiting for its demise, you can still see where the Red Wings played their first season. The Windsor Arena, built in 1924, was where the Detroit Cougars (the team’s original name) played in the 1926-27 NHL season while Olympia was being built. The building, 94 years old, is still there today, though sadly is no longer in use and is boarded shut. This old barn is right by the tunnel, so we stop by. It’s a sad sight. There’s nothing there to denote the arena’s history, or the fact that the Red Wings played there for one season, or that numerous old time hockey legends such as Howie Morenz, Hap Holmes and Eddie Shore played there.

The Windsor Arena was also the home of the Windsor Spitfires of the Ontario Hockey League. The OHL is one of three major junior leagues (with the Western Hockey League and the Quebec Major Junior Hockey League) comprising the Canadian Hockey League, or CHL. With teams mainly in Canada, the CHL is one of biggest feeder leagues of talent into the NHL. On the NHL’s opening night in 2017, there were 352 CHL alumni on NHL rosters, comprising 52% of all of the players to play in the NHL that night. The OHL itself had 171 players on opening night NHL rosters, 24% of the league’s players. Players range in age from 16 to 21, and are required to attend high school and are housed with “billet families” where they live. The teams are considered amateur, though players may receive a stipend from the team they play for. As in US college hockey, a player may be drafted by an NHL team but continue to play for their junior team, usually at the discretion of the NHL club. Unlike college hockey, fighting is allowed, and players can be traded just as in the pros. The teams in the CHL play for the Memorial Cup, the junior league’s championship trophy in a tournament that is heavily covered by Canadian media. With some 60 teams competing for it, the Memorial Cup is even more difficult to win than the Stanley Cup The Spitfires are the defending Memorial Cup champions, making them a celebrity in the hockey world.

Having moved out of the old Windsor Arena in 2008, the Spitfire’s new home is the WFCU Centre, built on the outskirts of town. The rink, holding about 6000 seats, is a mini NHL arena, with suites, a restaurant overlooking the ice, merchandise stores, community outreaches, 50/50 raffles, etc. Csaba and I walk up to the ticket window and get tickets four rows off the ice for $26 each (Canadian, translating to $20 American dollars).  This afternoon’s game is the first OHL game I’ve seen in 28 years, ironically between these same two franchises. Then, it was at the old Cobo Arena and the Firebirds were then the Detroit Compuware Ambassadors, who subsequently morphed into the Detroit Jr. Red Wings, then the Detroit Whalers, to the Plymouth Whalers, and finally after the team was sold, the Flint Firebirds. The game features three NHL draft picks (Firebird defensemen Fedor Gordeev and Jalen Smereck and Spitfire goalie Michael DiPetro) and all three had a hand in the eventual outcome.

Knowing they were NHL draft picks, I kept an eye on Gordeev and Smereck during the game. I get why they were drafted. Gordeev had the size of an NHL defenseman, and his game had a calmness and poise in the anarchy of the game. Smooth skating, he was always in position and his physicality was aptly demonstrated when he delivered a monstrous check on a Windsor player trying to get by him at the blueline against the boards. Smereck too, exhibits traits of a higher level of skill. He logged the most ice time of any defenseman in the game, and is frequently head manning the puck out of his own zone. In the tradition of minor league sports, today is Super Hero Sunday, a promotion gimmick to draw people to the game. In that vein, the Spitfires are dressed in special super hero themed uniforms, complete with a comic bookesque chest emblem and implied cape on their jerseys. 

The game begins with a quick goal, a semi-wrap around that the Flint goalie overplays, and Windsor takes a 1-0 lead. That goal would stand up for the entire game, as Micheal DiPietro shows why the Canucks drafted him. He gets the shutout. There were several spectacular saves by both goalies, notable because, looking at the Firebird’s stat sheet, defense was not their forte. As in most 1-0 games, it’s a goaltending duel. The crowd of about 4500 are entuhusiastic, with many cowbells and horn noises that sound as if they were ill Star Wars aliens. Michelle calls me with about 8 minutes left in the third, which tells me that she didn’t do well at the casino. She hangs in the parking lot until the game is over, and then Csaba and I meet her and we head back to the States. The weather is cloudy and gray. There is so much fog on the river we literally cannot see Detroit.

Csaba with his poutine

There was something very Canadian about this experience, as if we were watching a minor league baseball game in a charming ballpark somewhere in the United States. Instead of apple pie, however, we had that Canadian classic, poutine. It works for hockey. It works very well.

Go see a game there.