They just accomplished something even they never thought was possible, and went home with a smile across their beardless faces.
As they get their chance to put the lazy-boy into the recline position for the first time in months, they flip on the TV and watch the remaining Western Conference semi-finals matchup.
The Anaheim Ducks were the No. 8 seed, and had been exposed by speed all series long. The Red Wings were the No. 2 seed, and played better in the technical aspects underneath a championship banner that still has its crease marks.
Despite all this, it is well known what the Blackhawks were muttering underneath their breath: We want Detroit.
Why? They are the defending champions, have more playoff experience, and know the Blackhawks like the back of their stick at this point.
This series is more than a seven-game tilt. It's more than octopus and national anthem cheers. It's more than a chance to advance to the Stanley Cup Finals.
It's a chance to finally tell the older brother to sit down and let the youngest get some glory time.
Not even a pulse-pounding Game Six that rocked the United Center harder than a certain World Series game in Oakland could garner them the respect they seek. As soon as the allure of the Original Six series wore off, and analysts had a chance to diagnose the matchup, the majority pick was in: Red Wings are going to the Finals.
The analysts feel Detroit has too much experience to fall to the hands of the young Blackhawks. The Red Wings feel that because they rested a few players in the final two meetings between the teams, they have the upper-hand.
With all but four of their other siblings out of contention, the Blackhawks feel the eyes of their father and brother squarely upon them.
The brothers have some friends enjoying the ride, too. They pack the United Center and Joe Louis Arena night after night. Some create deafening sound before the game, some toss calamari before it. Both are equally as passionate about their teams and as hateful toward their impending opponent.
The brothers will roll into this with their entire 20,000-plus entourage behind them. The youngest acknowledges his fans as a part of his success, while the oldest has the security of knowing his will never leave.
Starting Sunday, the battle for supremacy begins. History can be thrown out of the window; both boys and their gang have done some changing the past decade since they met here.
Just like the greasers against the Socs, the Jets matched with the Sharks, and Ron Burgundy versus Wes Mantooth, both have something to prove and territory to gain.
Who will daddy be hugging when the spray clears?