At the half-way point of a 2-week business trip, I found myself with the prospect of a night alone in Chicago, with no business or social commitments. With a little help from friends, I happened upon a ticket to the Chicago Blackhawks hockey game. Not just any ticket, mind you, but a premium seat in the front row up against the glass.
I can count on one hand the number of NHL games I have attended in the past, and none in the last eight years. In that time span, I have learned a lot about the game - having coached well over a hundred youth games, attended multiple coaching clinics, read several books on coaching youth hockey, and spent several hundred hours on the ice. I guess it's natural to expect that I would have a different appreciation of the game, given the opportunity to watch it at its highest level.
I was super-excited about the game, this was my first opportunity to watch NHL players from the front row, in live action. The Hawks were playing the St. Louis Blues, which split my allegiances slightly. Last year, I was an assistance coach with ex-Blues player Tom Tilley, and the Blues were the closest NHL team to Kansas City. On the other hand, I had lived in Chicago several years ago, so the Blackhawks were my last true "home team". With no emotional ties to bias me, I could truly enjoy the game.
I can count on one hand the number of NHL games I have attended in the past, and none in the last eight years. In that time span, I have learned a lot about the game - having coached well over a hundred youth games, attended multiple coaching clinics, read several books on coaching youth hockey, and spent several hundred hours on the ice. I guess it's natural to expect that I would have a different appreciation of the game, given the opportunity to watch it at its highest level.
I was super-excited about the game, this was my first opportunity to watch NHL players from the front row, in live action. The Hawks were playing the St. Louis Blues, which split my allegiances slightly. Last year, I was an assistance coach with ex-Blues player Tom Tilley, and the Blues were the closest NHL team to Kansas City. On the other hand, I had lived in Chicago several years ago, so the Blackhawks were my last true "home team". With no emotional ties to bias me, I could truly enjoy the game.
It didn't take more than about 15 seconds of live action to realize that I no longer watch hockey like I used to. Chicago won the face off and moved the puck into their offensive zone, after a wide shot, the Blues' left defenseman picked up the puck in the far corner and made an incredible pass to the right winger who had broken open near center ice, creating a 1 on 1 scoring opportunity against the lone defensemen who had dropped back. Despite this great scoring chance for the opposition, the home crowd was roaring in approval and excitement. It took me a couple of seconds to understand their obvious loss of synchronicity with the action on the ice - it was almost like they were watching a different game than me. This group of rabid fans were delighted by the powerful body check delivered by the Hawk's right winger on the defenseman who had just made the spectacular break-out pass. The fact that the visiting team was on the verge of a score did absolutely nothing to deflate the home crowd. Nope, I wasn't watching a different game, I was just watching the game differently.
I felt even more out of place a few minutes later when the first of 3
first-period fights broke out right in front of me. Now, anyone who knows me understands that I am not a tender-hearted pacifist by any means. Heck, I love watching one UFC fighter beat the living pulp out of his adversary just as much as the next guy. But watching two elite athletes, who master such a technically challenging game, reduce themselves to thugs on ice was, frankly, offensive. Of course, I was vastly outnumbered in my assessment of the incident. I think I captured the general atmosphere in one of my photos of the third fight of the period. [The gentleman sitting next to me, by the way, was equally as unimpressed with the stoppage of play. We were probably the only front-row ticket holders NOT on our feet, banging on the glass encouraging these athletes to beat the crap out of each other].
first-period fights broke out right in front of me. Now, anyone who knows me understands that I am not a tender-hearted pacifist by any means. Heck, I love watching one UFC fighter beat the living pulp out of his adversary just as much as the next guy. But watching two elite athletes, who master such a technically challenging game, reduce themselves to thugs on ice was, frankly, offensive. Of course, I was vastly outnumbered in my assessment of the incident. I think I captured the general atmosphere in one of my photos of the third fight of the period. [The gentleman sitting next to me, by the way, was equally as unimpressed with the stoppage of play. We were probably the only front-row ticket holders NOT on our feet, banging on the glass encouraging these athletes to beat the crap out of each other].Luckily, it was a close game. As they always seem to do, the players set aside their UFC aspirations and focused on the business at hand for the final two periods (and the overtime period, up until the Blues' winning goal on an overtime power play.) My favorite games are the close ones - the speed and intensity stay
elevated until the final horn - no THAT's hockey!
elevated until the final horn - no THAT's hockey!
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