photo credit for stadium on home page featured post: rc!

photo credit for beta fish on home page featured post: fran.pregemik

She didn’t want to sit on a horse so we sat down on the bench seat and enjoyed the ride with the period music that played so beautifully.  I found myself transported to another era; one of simple things, a slower pace and the feeling I was in the middle of a beautiful park on a pleasant summer day in the first half of the 20th century.

It’s often moments like these that become the ones most cherished years down the road.  Here I thought I was simply sitting down with my daughter for a brief two minute ride on a carousel.  Instead, it was a frozen moment in time where nothing else in the world mattered but the smile on the face of a beautiful three-year-old and her daddy who didn’t want the carousel to stop.

And then there’s soccer.

We don’t love soccer. We don’t even seem to enjoy it much. For that matter, although most every community in America has soccer in one form or another, we’re hard-pressed to even watch it unless our kids are playing.  And that’s truly a shame.

Over the years I was a classic soccer holdout.  The games – or do we call them matches – have precious little scoring, rules that can be confusing and more ties than a fine men’s store.  More often than not, the only time I paid attention to the sport was because of a riot at some unknown stadium with teams I’d never heard of in Europe or South America.  That was the extent of my “interest” in the sport.

And to view soccer in that manner was tantamount to saying the only thing noteworthy in hockey was fighting.  It was a shallow view of a sport that deserved much more attention than I had given it.

And so it was the World Cup 2010 commenced in South Africa.  While I didn’t look forward to it with the same fervor as the Olympics or the recent Stanley Cup Finals, I was more than a little geared up to watch the United States compete on the world stage. 

The U.S. team wasn’t picked by any analyst anywhere in the world to advance too deep into the tournament but it didn’t matter to me.  If the players are wearing USA on their uniforms, count me in as a passionate viewer.

I watch soccer as often as I watch luge, ski jumping or track and field.  And like those other sports, no sooner do I watch a soccer match do I find myself wondering why I’ve not tuned in more often. 

The lack of scoring does not translate into a lack of skill or excitement.  I’ve watched more than a few baseball games over the years that went on for more than four hours with the most exciting moment being a fan making a great catch on a foul ball.

But what I find most surprising are the people who not only don’t like the sport, but seem to be on a personal quest to rip it publicly as often as possible.

On my radio program, I’ve had people call and hold on for more than a few minutes simply to ask “which is more exciting, soccer or watching grass grow?”  I would argue watching grass grow is underrated.

So why the vitriol from people who don’t like soccer?  Why do so many Americans go out of their way to bash the sport?  If you don’t like it, don’t watch it.  I don’t like oatmeal so I don’t eat it.  I don’t go door-to-door in my neighborhood ripping someone because that’s his breakfast of choice.

I’ve received emails from listeners who act like there’s al-Qaeda… and then there’s soccer.  The passionate indifference and overall dislike of the sport borders on irrational.

There’s a reason the rest of the world loves this sport – almost lives for this sport – and it has nothing to do with the shortsighted reasoning of too many Americans saying things like “it’s all they’ve got.”  Countries like England, Germany, Italy and Brazil have much more than soccer… or, futbol.  They “get it.”  They understand the beauty and intensity of soccer goes well beyond the goals that are scored… or not scored.

It took decades for countries around the world to learn and appreciate basketball.  But they get it now and when you look at European and South American arenas, they’re packed to the rafters to watch the sport that began, and was perfected, here in the United States.  Rather than bemoan a sport that won’t ever replace soccer as the favorite on those continents, they’ve embraced it.

Meanwhile here in America, far too many sports fans spend their time quibbling over why the sport isn’t worth their time… and the time of others who enjoy it.  How about taking the oatmeal approach:  If you don’t like it, move on.  Consider having a waffle.

photo credit: mikkelz

One by one they fell.  The Predators, the Canucks, the Sharks.

Standing in their way:  The Philadelphia Flyers.  In a most improbable playoff run, highlighted by a remarkable comeback against the Boston Bruins (the Flyers won the series despite being down 3 games to none and 3-0 in the 7th game in Boston), the Flyers had the kind of run going that was, for different reasons, every bit as compelling as the Blackhawks.  Philly fans also were thinking that this was their Moment.

And then in sudden death overtime of Game Six at the Wachovia Center in south Philadelphia, Patrick Kane ended it in a way that seemed almost fitting for an organization and a city waiting 49 years for a championship. 

The hockey gods, sense of humor firmly intact, said to Blackhawks fans around the world, ”you’ll need to wait just a moment longer please.”

Patrick Kane’s shot, coming from the right of Flyers goalie Michael Leighton, fooled the players on the ice, the referee, the goal judge, the fans in the building, the fans watching on television, the radio announcers and NBC’s unrivaled play-by-play man, Mike Emrick. 

The one person who knew it was over:  Patrick Kane.  And indeed, the shot was in the net and Chicago breathed a sigh of relief followed quickly by boundless joy. 

For the first time since 1961, the Chicago Blackhawks were Stanley Cup Champions.

As a native of Chicago, my teams growing up were the White Sox, Bears, Bulls and Blackhawks.  Now, as an adult in my early 50′s, nothing has changed.  And of the four, it was always the Blackhawks that rose above the rest as my favorite.  That, too, remains unchanged.

The second it was clear the Hawks had won, my thoughts went directly to the many nights as a kid I would listen to the games on radio with my dad.  The great Hawks broadcaster Lloyd Pettit would have us hanging on every shift up ice as we waited for Pettit’s classic “…a shot…….and a GOAL!” 

Bobby Hull, Stan Mikita and Tony Esposito, those were my heroes.  And the place they called home, Chicago Stadium, had no peer.  The original Madhouse on Madison didn’t have the banners of the Montreal Forum.  Nor did it receive the worldwide attention of Madison Square Garden.  But there’s never been an indoor arena that shredded decibel meters the way the old Barn did.

The building shook with even the slightest roar on a great hit by a Hawks player.  And when the Hawks scored a goal, the deafening noise bordered on painful.

All of that and so much more came flooding back into my mind as tears rolled down my cheeks watching the Hawks players celebrating their 4-3 Cup-clinching win on the Flyers’ ice.

There was one final image that found its way into my thinking on that glorious evening.  I returned to live in Chicago in 1990.  For five years, I had the opportunity to see a number of games against the Hawks’ longtime rival from the Original Six, the Detroit Red Wings.  With the Wings’ colors red and white, and the Blackhawks’ colors red and black, the arena was always a sea of red.  The only problem was that sea of red belonged to the thousands of Detroit fans that filled the United Center.  They had no problem whatsoever getting tickets since the Hawks’ team and franchise had become just this side of a laughingstock. 

They are a joke no longer.  The rebirth of hockey in Chicago is complete.  And the dominant jersey in the building is the one that’s red… and black.

photo credit: life is good (pete)

photo credit for Ronettes on home page featured post:
The Best of the Ronettes (1992) cd cover