When did it become so trendy for people to hate hockey? I am deeply troubled by the local levels of disdain for a sport that has fallen out of favor not only in Chicagoland, but across the country as well. Frustrated maybe, more than troubled. As the so-called adopted child of pro sports’ “Big Four” (basketball, football, baseball, hockey), the NHL has had its long and strong tradition on the American sports scene overshadowed by 2004’s season-long lockout and the rising popularity of its Big Four counterparts. I’m not going to tackle the NHL’s image problems or preach to a Blackhawks fan base that is going on 48 years since its last Stanley Cup. I’ll keep it simple: Here are a few reasons why you should be at least mildly interested in what’s going on at the United Center when the Bulls aren’t busy losing there.

Reason #1: The Blackhawks used to be cool
It may seem like an eternity ago at this point, but it’s only been five years since the Hawks were serious contenders in the playoffs. In the 90’s and early 00’s, their roster was a grocery list of young, proven talent. If anyone can think of a better goalie tandem in history than the Eddie Belfour/Dominik Hasek combo the Hawks had at their disposal in 1990, I’d call them a liar. Roenick, Amonte, Belfour, Chelios, Zhamnov, Daze… these guys were nasty. You were probably too busy watching the Bulls 15-peat.

(AP Photo/Ross D. Franklin)

Reason #2: Bill Wirtz will never, ever run the Blackhawks again
Unless his head is locked up at some cryonics lab in Arizona with Ted Williams, waiting to be brought back to life. The guy was easily among the top-5 worst owners in professional sports. Maybe even in history. Now that I think about it, Wirtz and William Clay Ford Jr. are top-2. Nicknamed “Dollar Bill” because he was too cheap to keep any of the players I listed above, Wirtz refused to air Hawks home games on local TV because he only wanted to deal with the “real” fans who showed up to the games. This strategy might have worked out perfectly for Wirtz, had people paid enough attention to the team in the first place to realize he was blacking out games. It was like playing a game of keep-away with something nobody really wanted.
And what is the first move his son Rocky “Can’t Be” Wirtz makes when he takes over? He gets rid of the blackouts. There would have been massive rioting in the streets had Bill not already managed to turn the Hawks into a joke.
(Interesting Note: Rocky recently hired John McDonough, the former marketing director of the Cubs, as the new president of the Hawks.)

Reason #3: Do it for the kids
While the rest of the NHL pillaged his team year in and year out both in free agency and on the trading block, “Dollar Bill” had no choice but to accumulate high draft picks. In that sense, current Hawks rookies Patrick Kane and Jonathan Toews were essentially accidents. Now they essentially own the rookie leader boards. Kane may not have a cool nickname yet (see: Sid The Kid), but his 45 points leads the current rookie class. Toews (pronounced “Tayvz”) leads all rookies in goals (15), which is incredible considering the center has watched the last three weeks worth of games from the owner’s box with a sprained knee.
This is a Hawks team with two highly touted teenagers that are producing mere months into their careers, which is more than the Bulls can claim about the four-year train wreck that was Eddy Curry and Tyson Chandler.

ESPN’s E.J. Hradek has Kane and Toews as locks to become future superstars

Check these kids out.

Reason #4: As a Chicago sports fan, there’s really nothing better to do
-The Bears are only competitive once every three seasons so you still have two more seasons to go
-The Sox are going to be buried behind the Indians and Tigers in the Central for the foreseeable future so forget about their playoff chances
-The Cubs are the Cubs
-Unless John Paxson travels back in time to make that Kevin Garnett trade, the Bulls are doomed to lose much of their young talent in free agency and fall right back into mediocrity.

Instead of watching Kirk Hinrich and company spew basketball garbage all over the court for the next two months, pick up an $8, 300-level student ticket at the United Center’s Will Call and watch an above-.500 team play for a legitimate shot at the playoffs. The Hawks are suddenly filling the United Center on a nightly basis, believe it or not.

I’m excited about Blackhawks hockey and Chicago should be too.

I’m a Red Wings fan. And you should hate that.

I sat down on the Sunday after Unofficial nursing a two-day hangover while writing the rules for my March Madness pool and waiting for the Cubs-Sox spring training game to begin. I flipped through the channels and finally had to decide between Napoleon Dynamite airing on Comedy Central, Arena Football and the NHL on NBC.

What did I decide to watch? Whatever I felt like watching, gosh.

I finally chose to view my first non-Blackhawks NHL game since the lockout that ended the 2004-05 season. (And the only reason I’d seen the Hawks play was because I twice came across free tickets.) Playing in good ole’ Hockeytown, USA, were the hated Red Wings and my childhood favorites, the Colorado Avalanche. There were some familiar faces from what used to be a pretty big rivalry between two powerhouses — Joe Sakic was still skating strong for the Avs and, amazingly, former Hawks all-star gone evil, Chris Chelios, still was slashin’ away for the Wings.

But other than that, there were very few players I could recognize and not just because they all ended in “ski” or “kov.” It’s difficult to watch a sport where the names mean nothing to you. Ever since the lockout ended and the talent of the league was redistrubuted, hockey had lost its glamour for me. It’s like when you play Madden — by the time the sixth season of your franchise roles around, Donovan McNabb is a Panther and the teams are filled with made up names so you’re competing against a running back named Thomas Franklin for the MVP title. Where’s the fun in that?

But then, I witnessed my first goal. It came during a 2-2 tie in the third period. Milan Hedjuk (a name I remembered!) slipped a pass on a 2-on-1 to some dude who took three strides with a stick around his waste and slid the puck through Chris Osgood’s (another name!) five hole. I yelled in amazement, but stopped and quicly pinched myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming or still drunk from Friday’s shinanigans — I was watching hockey … and enjoying it.

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