For My Mom: Why Tonight's Game Means So Much To Me

Sports have always been a major part of my family's life. Sometimes I wonder if it's the glue that holds us together. 


Neither my brother and I are athletes. We participated in the obligatory little leagues as kids - my brother in baseball, football and one disastrous attempt at soccer (he was always running behind the pack of kids with the ball, poor guy). Myself in softball - if you meet me in person ask me about the scar underneath my lip - it's a story. Neither of us played hockey, as there were no leagues nearby and I doubt my parents could have afforded the equipment anyway. I did play two semesters of broomball (one as goalie!) in college if that counts for anything. 


My family has always bonded when it comes to sports. My mom grew up a mile from Wrigley Field and would walk there for games when the park was empty and they still had "Ladies Day" where women could get in for free. My dad has two brothers and all are fervent Chicago sports fans. My parents got Blackhawks season tickets when they were married in 1969. They held onto those seats even when my dad joined the army to avoid the Vietnam draft and they moved to Virginia. They passed along those tickets to friends who were still in Chicago. I know it was with mixed emotions that they listened to the 1971 Cup Finals vs. Montreal hundreds of miles away on a radio. On one hand they wanted the Blackhawks to win it all, on the other, it was painful to know that they could have been there in person. We all know how that series ended.


My parents still had those tickets when my mom became pregnant with me in 1975. She would still go to games, climbing up those stairs at the Chicago Stadium until she was too big to do so. When I was born in February of 1976, my mom had an ultimatum for my dad - if I can't go to the games because she was taking care of me, neither could he. 1976 was the last year my parents had season tickets.


As a kid, one of the highlights of the year was the one Blackhawks game my parents would take my brother and I to. We would go with some friends of my parents and their kids. Somewhere there's a picture of all of us on the couch, bundled up and ready to head out. We'd also go to their house several times a year for the express purpose of watching a Blackhawks game on TV. They had a satellite dish (one of the ones that's as big as a garage), and could get the hockey games. We didn't get cable until I was in junior high so it was a luxury for me. I remember occasionally watching the fuzzy split screen of the Blackhawks games so we could just hear the call. I honestly at times don't know how we managed to be Hawks fans without cable all of those years. I know we listened to a lot of Pat & Dale on the radio. Sometimes I wonder if my dad would purposely run errands during the games so we could all listen to the game in the car. 


When we finally did get cable, my hockey fandom reached new peaks. It was the glory years of the late 80s and 90s. I was obsessed with the Blackhawks - photos adorned my Chandler assignment book and somewhere at my parents is a photo album full of clippings I cut out of the newspapers. By the time I was headed off to college in the mid 90s, my obsession with hockey waned - studying, partying and trying to deal with adulthood got in the way.


Hockey was lost to me throughout the first 7 or so years of the 00's. I had sworn off the Hawks for the most part, disgusted by the way Bill Wirtz was ruining the once proud franchise. The lockout also soured me on hockey in general and was the straw that broke the camel's back. I started paying attention again when Toews and Kane were drafted and my ears really perked up when Wirtz finally died. I remember watching the first Blackhawks home game on TV in years. I didn't know who most of the players were, but the novelty of seeing the Hawks in home jerseys (although for the record those were the road jerseys for many years prior) was something I had to see with my own eyes. Later in the 2007-08 season I won tickets to see a game in one of the skyboxes at the United Center. It was a homecoming. Hockey forgive me, I'm sorry I ever doubted you. Hockey welcomed me back with open arms. 


My mom has always had a special place in her heart for hockey. I remember watching 2 or 3 OT playoffs games with her until the wee hours of the morning, both of us being annoyed and drowsy when we had to wake up the next day. She loves the penalty shot - whenever one was awarded she'd burst in the room - "PENALTY SHOT!" she'd cry. Often times we'd be watching something else on the TV - she would have had ESPN2 or SportsChannel on in the other room. We'd change the channel to watch the shot together and "ooh" and "aah" at the result. This is why I hate the shootout - the novelty of the penalty shot has been lost. During the period where I eschewed hockey, my mom never wavered. "Did you see that playoff game last night?" "That fight was great in the game the other day." I'd shrug and say that I didn't watch it - my mom would have a look of sadness on her face that she couldn't share those moments with me. 


My mom has had health problems the past decade - back surgery, cancer and the general slowing down that comes with getting older. Despite that, her spirit and love of the sport has remained intact. She desperately wanted to go to a playoff game last year. Due to the fact that tickets were so hard to come by and my brother's season tickets are so high up in the 300 level that my mother could never hobble up there, she disappointedly watched from her TV. 


I promised her we'd go to tonight's banner raising game together. And we are - first row of the 300 level. The tickets were astronomically expensive but they are worth every penny. For the first time in probably 15 years my mother is going to a Blackhawks game to witness something many of us probably thought we'd never see in person. I could think of no other person on this planet I'd want to spend this evening with more. I know I will cry a bit - the emotions are going to be too strong not to. 


Thanks, Mom.