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I am sorry to the family of Gordie Howe with his passing, and his lingering health and financial issues.
But…I have to say it.
I hate the guy.
I hated the guy throughout my childhood.
It started out because he was a Red Wing, and the older fellows that my parents allowed to chaperone their ten year old to the Chicago Stadium in the 1960 had a built-up contempt for him and the Wings since the earlier 1950’s.
Even a ten year old could see what he was and what he was capable of.
The man simply seemed bigger and more anchored than anybody else on their skates.
We loved our Blackhawks! They were this scratching and clawing team that suddenly received some much needed skill from a little Czech lad named Mikita, and this muscle-bound scorer Bobby Hull.
Like all teams of the era, the Blackhawks had their tough guy, Reg Fleming, and honestly, most guys from this era were tough, because they part of a NHL fraternity numbering a little over a hundred.
And as homers, we saw OUR guys as the best in the game’s scorers, tough guys and even intimidators.
But our reality was always brought earth when Gordie showed up.
I hated this guy.
No matter how tough we thought our players were, this Howe seemed to nonchalantly hurt us, sometimes even with goals.
As a fan viewing games live, I would wonder why certain hawks were suddenly planted on their backsides, or holding their faces…
It was because “blinky” (what we unaffectionately called him, to make fun of his facial tick) liked his space…whether it be on the wall in the front or behind either net.
If you were intrusive and tried checking or moving him, and it started to perturb him, he reacted…with his stick but mostly with the joints of his elbows.
He hurt our players, and was never apologetic or remorseful, as if space was his right.
Nowadays, we see the engagements in the ice’s battle areas, and it excites us as fans.
Gordie Howe seemed a cut above of all the successful crease players of today and an even larger grandmaster in his own era, despite the tough as nail defenders whose sticks were used like lumberjack axes at times.
Blinky was simply meaner, more balanced in his boots, and more committed to getting what had to be done, done.
And I hated it every time my team was the recipient.
And the fact everyone WAS intimidated by him, just made me hate him more.
I yelled it at him, for over a decade, and even after the game when he and his wing teammates had to make their way past gate 3 and a half to their bus, and fans were still allowed to linger there for autographs after the matches.
Maybe it lucky for me there WAS an audience there when I let him hear it.
I have let it all out, vented as a true hockey boy can.
Ok, Gordie, I don’t hate you anymore.
I did love hating you, though.
You made it easy. |
