Congratulations to the St. Louis Blues on winning the Stanley Cup!
I do not follow either the Blues or the Cardinals as I did in my
younger years. That does not mean they are not my favorite teams or that I do
not root for them. Marriage, family, and my salvation by Jesus Christ changed
my life’s perspectives and replaced many of my earlier loves. Yet, when it
comes to hockey, I always root for the Blues.
Having been disappointed by the team for many years, I did not
watch many of their games (or an entire game) until they reached the third
round of the playoffs. We’ve been close before and everything quickly
evaporated. But, from that point on, I, like most of the city, have analyzed every
shift of every game (“Shoot the puck, man!” “Clear the zone!”). While I suspect
my excitement level would have been much, much higher many years ago, last
night was exciting. What a wonderful sports story the Blues 2018-2019 season
will make for future generations. I’m glad I saw them win it.
During the final five minutes of the game, I unexpectedly received
a text message from a former high school classmate, Brian. The two of us were
in the same grade in our small school system for all twelve years, I believe. We
also attended Southern Illinois University and received our bachelor’s degrees
there at the same time. We’ve only talked a few times since then. But, what
truly united us was not our school experiences; it was the St. Louis Blues.
In his text, Brian admitted he had not watched much of the Blues
since the mid-1970s but was on the edge of his seat during the seventh game.
The third goal last night eased his anxiety a bit. He, like I, could not
believe the Blues were about to accomplish what the two of us had dreamed DECADES
ago.
Back in October of 1967, Brian invited me to go with his parents
to see a hockey game. Why he invited me is a question I never asked. The Blues
played their first game on October 11 and the game we were attending was their 5th
game of their existence. I knew little of hockey apart from the mechanical
hockey game my parents gave me a few years earlier. St. Louis had a minor
hockey team, the Flyers, but I did not watch or follow them. I think Brian’s
family did which was the reason behind their interest in the Blues. So, the
Blues were brand new to St. Louis and Bruce was brand new to the NHL.
On October 21, 1967, I accompanied Brian and his parents to the
old Arena on Oakland Avenue. I seem to recall our seats being up somewhat and
near one end, but I am uncertain. There before me was a sheet of ice with two
goals, one large red line, two blue lines, and smaller red lines crossing the
goals. I was glad the scene in front of me replicated the layout of my
mechanical hockey game. At least something was familiar.
There were probably some empty seats, I don’t know. My eyes were
fixated on the speed of the skaters on the ice. I knew none of the players. So,
and so was playing left wing. Wing? That play was offside. Offside? Icing was
called. Icing?! When a penalty is called, the penalized team must play a man
short?! Goal! Red light!
Brian’s family provided some education as the game progressed. I
quickly understood the offside rule (which has changed considerably since then)
and what a two-line pass meant. Icing was a bit more confusing, but, by the end
of the game, I had that down as well. And I understood what a power play was
and how exciting it could be (the Blues scored a power play goal that night as
well as gave up a short-handed goal).
Over the years, I have researched that first game since, at the
time, I had no clue who was who. The game ended in a 3-3 tie with Gerry Melnyk,
Ron Stewart, and Larry Keenan scoring the Blues goals while Ted Irvine, Gord
Labossiere, and Real Lemieux answered for the Kings. But, the position which
truly caught my attention was goalie. The Kings goalie was Wayne Rutledge who
stopped 33 of 36 shots. But, as Brian’s parents informed me, an NHL All-Star
played goal for the Blues: “Mr. Goalie” Glenn Hall.
Neither goalie wore a mask. Few did then. Hall was amazing, also
stopping 33 of 36 shots. He played his final four years with the Blues and won
the Conn Smythe trophy in the 1969-1970 playoffs for his performance. In their
second season, the Blues added veteran goaltender Jacques (“Jake the Snake”)
Plante and the two of them won the Vezina trophy for the best goaltenders of
the year. Plante was an originator of the goalie mask and convinced Hall to
wear one in his final years.
The game that night ended in a tie, a slight let-down since my
favorite sport, baseball, never ended in a tie (ties do not occur these days in
the NHL). But I will never forget the experience. I was hooked on hockey and a life-long
Blues fan. The four of us went to a White Castle (also a first for me) and
discussed hockey over burgers. What a terrific evening that was.
Brian and I attended Blues games as often as we could. In her
junior year of high school, Debbie won two tickets to a Blues game and offered
them to me while I was spending three weeks practice teaching at her school. I
grabbed them and gave one to Brian leaving her in the lurch. My love for the
Blues was a given. It would be another year before I would be in love with her!
Brian and I even attended Blues games while at Carbondale, one
time driving after classes and arriving in the middle of the second period.
Usually, I had standing room only tickets at the games since they were cheaper,
and the place was sold out in the early days. I would take my old-style school
bell and ring it as loudly as I could when the Blues scored. Why, we even met
Glenn Hall walking into the arena before one game. I think it was Brian who
asked him, “Glenn, Glenn, do you feel sick at your stomach?” Mr. Hall did not
respond but the question was very timely. You see, Hall would be ill before any
game he started. We just wanted to know if Hall was the starting goaltender
that evening.
Our love of hockey never transferred to ice skating. I tried to
ice skate once and realized it was not meant to be (I also cannot roller
skate). I don’t know if Brian can ice skate or not. But the two of us started
floor hockey in my dorm on my floor and had several of my dormmates join us.
Using tables for goals, a plastic puck, and real sticks, we checked, shot, and
scratched the floor many times during our college days.
Yes, lots of fond memories were resurrected while watching the
Blues win their first ever Stanley Cup. I’m grateful I was able to witness the
completion of a fifty-two-year dream last night.
Congratulations, Blues!