Blackhawks-Ducks: Chicago Steals One from Anaheim

I leaned back in my seat in section 325 with 13 minutes gone by in the third period.

I had already written the article in my head:

"The Chicago Blackhawks cashed in after the first two minutes of the second period to play arguably their worst hockey of the season. Slowed down by Anaheim's size, and by Chicago's own sloppy play, the Ducks coasted to an easy 2-1 victory at the United Center."

I had too many things to talk about. Martin Havlat sleepwalking through roughly the entire game. The Blackhawks settling for shots from the point since they weren't able to work anything behind the net. Dave Bolland's pathetic hooking penalty in his own end in the second perio,d when he had four teammates between the puckhandler and the goal.

Where was I to begin?

I had an insanely drunk woman in front of me who kept talking about how great RIVALRY games are. To top this, she may have been the worst leaner I've sat behind at any sporting event. Or did I mention the fact that she kept pounding my leg whenever she had something to say?

Or should I have begun my article with the fact that my fellow season ticket holder cancelled on me 24 hours before the game, and I couldn't get a soul to come with me to the match?

Needless to say, their were a lot of options.

Yet, as I finished one of my final cigarettes outside the United Center before tonight's game, I just had this odd feeling tonight was going to be special. Too many odd things were occurring to prevent me from going to the game for the night not to be special.

For one, it was Steve Larmer Night.

Larmer was my favorite player to wear the Indian head. The man was a machine, and took quite a pounding around the net over the years. Still, he never missed a game as a Blackhawks player.

Through the the two-minute mark of the second period until six minutes left to go, I had finally concluded where my story would go.

Tonight, the United Center was the most dead I can ever remember. Ever. It was 2005 dead. Hell, it was 2006 dead.

It made me think of how dull the Hawks were in the late '70s—struggling with attendance, mediocre play, and lacking a star player.

Then, it made me think of where the Hawks went after Larmer left—struggling with attendance, mediocre play, and lacking leadership on top.

This was perfect. I would write my story based on the oddity that a man who helped bring Chicago hockey back to relevance in the 1980s and early 90s would watch a re-incarnation of the misery that existed before and after he was a player.

Welcome home, Steve!

Then, with just under six minutes left to go, everything awoke.

There was Kris Versteeg gaining the line, making a move, and dumping it to Keith, who slid it over to Havlat, and somewhere I was running out of commas in my head to decipher what had just happened.

Marty awoke. The son of a gun slept through two periods of hockey, wandered into the soft spot of the ice and finished a beautiful set up from Versteeg and Keith. 2-2.

The drunk woman in front of me went from annoying to jovial. The game went from the worst of the season to the Miracle on Ice. The birds were singing, and my hideous sore throat disappeared.

The United Center which had (and no, I'm not exaggerating) been the quietest it has been in over three years erupted like Bin Laden's head had just arrived on a sizzler.

After this stanza, the United Center media crew caught the Golden Jet Bobby Hull in the skybox. The shot panned away from his face, and gave a ghostly shot of the retired numbers in the rafters.

I can't explain it, but I think Chief Blackhawk arrived to summon the spirit of Hawks past and finagled the deciding tally.

In a play that only works in the computer version of NHL '95, Jonathon Toews hit a deflecting puck that sailed over Anaheim goalie Jonas Hiller (who was brilliant). The computer game version would regularly have pucks carom off the back boards, roll over the goalie, and an opposing player would tap the puck in the net. It was quite frustrating if you were on the losing end.

However, in this case, the Blackhawks were on the winning end when Toews' carom found him back in front of the net for the winning chip-in.

There was simply no reason the Chicago Blackhawks should have won this game. They were outplayed for 32-straight minutes, rarely even getting a solid possession in the opposing zone.

The empty netter by Bolland polished things off, and gave me ample time to run to my car. I beat the outgoing traffic, and headed safely home.

Waiting for me upstairs is my beautiful wife.

I guess you could say it all worked out from this fan's perspective.

My story doesn't just get a new headline because of the Hawks performance, it will get a happy ending based on mine.

Hey-o!

Til Saturday.