It was the first time I'd actually made the voyage to the city to take part in the festivities, which by that point, seemed to be an annual part of summer. My friends and I were also now a couple years into our individual college experiences, and me being the sap that stayed home to go to community college, that particular year marked the time I began the love affair with alcohol that pretty much became the nucleus of my twenties.
The night before that rally and the train ride downtown involved many repeated shots and sips of Jack Daniels or whatever vodka was in that Sprite bottle, and one buddy had to take one of the girls back to the 'burbs after she got sick. But I was so incredibly proud of my own developing tolerance in those initial stages that I brought a sign to the rally proclaiming, "I'M DRUNK" with an arrow pointing down. I wanted the whole world to know how great a time I was having, but instead the sign (it read "FUCK KRAUSE" on the other side, by the way) ended up being placed over a different buddy's chest after he passed out in the park as soon as we arrived. People passing by would stop and have their picture taken beside our intoxicated friend while he slept and I could only laugh, completely oblivious to the disaster the Bulls were about to become and thinking that this party was how it would be every summer, every year, for the rest of time.
So it was a strange yet wonderful feeling this past June when after nearly two years of being off the sauce, I found myself in the city once again to be part of the madness that was the day honoring our World Champion Chicago Blackhawks. If my own feelings about just the rally are hard to put into words, then what, really, can be said about all of the glorious moments from this unforgettable season?
In all honesty, I cannot claim to be one of the long-time, long-suffering Blackhawks fans that lived through all the pains of the nearly half-century wait to raise Lord Stanley's Cup again. I grew up in a home without the benefit of cable television—not that it really mattered all that much for the 'Hawks, since "Dollar Bill" Wirtz refused to air the team's home games for most of my life until his passing in 2007 when his son Rocky took over and the asinine policy was reversed.
So my hockey fandom really didn't develop until I first moved out of my parents' place and into a townhouse that had cable. And it was during those first few springs of having newfound access to additional sports programming that I became rather addicted to the thrills of playoff hockey. Even though many games never involved my Chicago team, the suspense was positively riveting to me.
And it wasn't until the Blackhawks gained even more exposure in this area by moving over to WGN for radio and occasionally televised games that my regular-season following of the 'Hawks really took off. There was rarely a dull moment this past year and as all four quarterly thoughts this past season would indicate, my overriding concern throughout the year was the possibility of an injury occurring.
Of course, there was also the knowledge that when the puck was dropped at the beginning of this year's campaign, many fans like myself knew that this year was probably going to be the best shot the team had to win it all. There was the concern about which one (maybe even two) of the Big Three of Toews, Kane, and Kieth we would lose at the season's end—not to mention a whole slew of other problems likely to arise because of an absolutely horrifying salary cap situation.
But I still fondly recall the morning I picked up the paper to read that all three of those big stars would be retained. From there, my confidence began growing that this thing could really happen this year.
I had been telling my uncle for a couple of years that a season like this was imminent and that it was only a matter of time until the Blackhawks got far enough into the playoffs to create a bandwagon effect that has become, more or less, something of a tradition here in Chicago when any team gets hot enough to reach a post-season. Sure enough, more and more people who knew how devout of a fan I'd become began asking where I'd be watching a game (and then also mispronouncing the occasional name or asking for clarification on how icing or offside was determined).
I'd even managed to convert a lovely lady from Texas (who sent me the cookies pictured to the left—among other things) and we continued exchanging texts during games throughout the playoffs. When Game Six entered overtime and my stomach began twisting into knots at the thought of a Game Seven, she informed me that the suspense was too much for her grandmother, who had to leave the room and said only that she hoped "the Indians" won. Entering overtime, I had texted her that "this is going to be awesome," but not really sure how much I was believing it.
And so when the fateful moment finally occurred, I remember immediately jumping out of my seat (not nearly as high as when this happened, but still ... that game was just plain batshit crazy) and then sort of the WTF-type of confusion evident in most every call of the moment (which led to a hilarious parody). It left some people feeling rather "Meh" about how the whole things ended, but I honestly wouldn't have wanted it any other way.
The question now, of course, is what comes next. So many newcomers to the bandwagon means that many people in this area in their rush to the merchandise stands foolishly bought jersey shirts for players I had cautioned likely wouldn't be around past this season. And so off went the plenty of lovable fellows I knew the trade value would never be higher for such as Byfuglien and Versteeg specifically. Burish, Eager, Sopel and Fraser probably didn't sell as many shirts, and I'll admit Ladd being moved caught me off-guard as well. And now yesterday's news about our hero in between the pipes not being offered a new contract because he justifiably earned a raise the team cannot afford to pay is certain to set off even more panic among those who are new to this hockey team.
I had been working on a piece of art that would feature all the boys listed on this now-championship roster, in hopes of bringing it to the team's convention this past weekend to be signed by all the players. First problem was that many of those guys weren't there; other problem being that tickets for the event were sold out and I ruled out hopes of being able to afford them after watching the prices on StubHub triple just moments after the 'Hawks swept away the Sharks. Oh, and the art isn't done either. So there's that too.
But I'm still determined to finish it with maybe even small hopes of selling it. I had begun the project at the outset of the playoffs, sensing that this would be a season worth remembering. The entire year filled with unforgettable moments, and I still like looking back at the "CUP OR BUST" tag for my Tumblr that makes me recall the ride that I was on from April until June.
In the end, the 'Hawks winning the Stanley Cup this year didn't just make me optimistic about the team's future. In truth, it made me optimistic about everything.
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