The Vig

I grabbed a grip of magnet schedules at the Winter Hawks game Saturday night.  I like to pass them around the office and get people a little fired up to go see a game.  It’s the funniest damned thing in this town.  Anytime I mention the Hawks to someone I know, they tell me a story about the last time they went to a game.  The story is always the same…a bunch of friends, much beer, some stuff happens, and everyone promises to do it again.  It’s the same story over and over again.  There’s never a word about the team, in fact it’s assumed that the Hawks are a) good and b) NHL.  When they arrive at the arena, they’re momentarily shocked to learn there’s a city in Canada named Moose Jaw.  They’re even more surprised to learn it’s in a province called Saskatchewan. None of this matters once the puck drops. Then it becomes about cheering for the home team and drinking beer.

For whatever reason the Goldsmith group never figured this out.  Actually I’m convinced they did know it, but they didn’t care.  Jimmy wasn’t going to spend money to make money.  He could have drawn 7,500 a night in the Coliseum if he’d wanted to.  But he wasn’t interested in that.  He was going to fund his team from the other 300 available nights at the Coliseum.  He wanted to use profits from running the building to run his team.  He ran into too many road blocks and burned way too many bridges for that to pan out.  He got what he wanted down in Salem, but the league wasn’t going to allow that to happen.  Once it became clear this summer that he was out of options, he capitulated.  If you can call doubling your money in three years capitulation.

So as I sat there Saturday night looking for Dylan B., who was with his family, and John G., who was no doubt out living the G fantasy, I perused the schedule.  Saturday night would be my last game until November.  I’ll be in San Diego the 9th through the 13th for Betty with Sunglass’ wedding.  I read today on the O-Live forum that Saturday night was likely my last Goldsmith game.  Kind of fitting, I suppose, as I believe the first game under Goldsmith was also a 5-0 loss at the hands of Vancouver.  I could be wrong about that, but I think that’s right.

I’m definitely in the “anything is better than these clowns” camp, but at the same time, this does mean the end of an era.  Hodge is out.  Innes too.  It’s the end of the family era of the Winter Hawks, the only management style it’s ever known.  Coming in are some shrewd pros who will have some substantial backing from that other red, white, and black franchise in the Rose Quarter.  Now that the Blazers have effectively sold-out their season, the Hawks will give the Blazer ticket reps something to do between now and next July.  Hopefully they move a significant number of the Hawks remaining games over to the RG so the 9,000 of us who’ll be attending can feel somewhat comfortable.

Hockey is not a difficult sell.  It just takes someone to lead the way.  I think the Blazers will do that.  And when that happens, the recruiting will become so much easier.  Now suddenly a kid who was on the fence about coming to Portland (honestly, would you want to play in front of 2,000 people on a Saturday night in the Coliseum?) will want to come down and play in front of 9,000 screaming fans.  This town can be electric when it comes to hockey.

Some good things are coming.  The one concern, and it’s minor, is the old-time fans.  The folks who demand their face time with the players.  How will the new regime treat the G.O.A.L. Club and the other various elements of fandom?  Pizza nights and the sing for your dinner stuff.  I’m guessing they’ll still be around, but it will be interesting to see how they interact with the new regime and the hated Trail Blazers.  They all certainly had their moments with Goldsmith.  I guess we’ll find out soon enough.