The generations of sports fans who grew up listening to the radio are no longer with us. This one was different and came to a close in Chicago on Thursday night. We came to identify ourselves by being a group out of place and time.
Pat Foley, the play-by-play man for the Chicago Blackhawks, announced his retirement on Thursday. He was in the role on radio or television for 39 years. The two-year gap tells its own story and I will get to it. For many of us in my generation of Hawks fans, he was the gateway, as he became synonymous with the Hawks here in town.
It isn't enough to simply say he was the voice of the Hawks. He wasn't the only one who could hear our calls at a moment's notice. The decades-long mismanagement, mistreatment, and downright incompetence that both he and we as fans had to overcome to be fans and enjoy ourselves, was symbolized by Foley. In many ways, he was a part of us.
Hawks home games weren't on TV until 2008 for those outside of the city. That might sound like the dumbest thing you have ever heard, because it was. The games were kept off TV to protect season ticket holders, and the previous owner was an ardent believer in the theory of business. It's seriously.
For every generation of Hawks fan until this latest one, we had to consume half our games on the radio. There weren't separate radio and TV broadcast teams because of the cheapness of Wirtz. When the Hawks were on the road, the TV coverage was broadcast on the radio, and when they were home, it was broadcast on the radio. When he and Tallon were on TV broadcasting from Joe Louis Arena or the Checkerdome, it felt like some sort of inmates had escaped and were taking over something they should not have been in charge of.
Again, he was one of us. It was as if the Hawks plucked a fan out of the second deck of the old Chicago Stadium and put him behind a mic. He was a Hawks fan. He perfectly represented what hockey at the Old Stadium felt like. It's not possible to perfectly sum it up in words.
Chicago Stadium was located in a politically and physically abandoned neighborhood west of downtown. You understood why when you attended Hawks and Bulls games before Jordan arrived. It was as if the city had to keep us all away from the rest of the city so that we wouldn't be able to see what the higher-ups wanted. You will never convince me that the crowds for hockey games at the Stadium were not as large as you think, because 15,000 people were kept in a dungeon underneath the Stadium at all times. These people were not seen at the grocery store or on the L.
The atmosphere was dangerous and loud. You weren't always sure if you'd get out. On and off the ice, Foley was the perfect ambassador through the radio. He was one of us.
The call of Hawks games from the Stadium was probably as close to Bobby Heenan and Gorilla Monsoon doing actual sports as we will ever get. The sheer bedlam of the building was most nights, but we couldn't see it. Whether it was a big goal or yet another line brawl, the description always matched the chaos on the ice and in the stands. We had to sneak radios into our bedrooms to listen long after our parents had told us to sleep, but how could anyone sleep listening to this racket?
The big moments were won by Foley. Everyone has a favorite call, and he rose to prominence with this one.
Hockey is supposed to be uplifting at its best moments. You can't believe you made it through. The first Hawks run to the Stanley Cup Final was in 1992, and it was Game 4 in the second round against the Red Wings, when the Hawks somehow swept them. They did not break the tie until two minutes left in the game.
I can still put myself back on the couch in the apartment I grew up in, sitting with my headphones on. It was my first feeling of joy in sports. He hated the Red Wings as much as we did, so he was just as excited as we were. You can hear the joy in his voice.
When the Hawks moved out of the Stadium and across the street to the United Center, there was always going to be a change. The last great moment was in the old barn. There was a wistfulness in the postscript to this call, both knowing that the Hawks probably couldn't beat the Leafs but that something would be different after that.
Hawks win! Hawks win, there was no sweeter sound to a fan than that. There wouldn't be any more moments like that for 20 years.
As the team's fortunes soured through incomprehensibly stupid stewardship, he couldn't hide his disdain. It all came to a head during his famous rant.
We were disgusted by what the team did, and that's why we were so angry. The team wasn't going to have this kind of honesty about its product on the air, and that's why they had to oust him. A lot of us were.
The team's rebirth was marked by the return of Foley, who was another sign that it was OK now.
When I was writing about the Hawks, I was harsh on Foley at times. The game moved too fast for him. His grabass with Eddie Olczyk would be hard to like. He was too willing to echo the team's propaganda about a player or decision. He definitely said things he shouldn't have said. It came from a place where he meant so much.
If he still couldn't get the big moments.
I watched it in a loud bar. We couldn't see if Toews had tucked that puck behind Ryan Miller. The place was palpitating with anticipation as Toews came in, but fell silent for a brief second, giving the perfect stage for the Hawks to win. Hawks won to cut through the tension. The tearing off of the lid bottled our delight and relief.
Hockey fans are tied to a radio commentator in a way that is rare for this generation. We were the last to be forced to. But he was locked in with us and made it through. I don't know what Syracuse-baritone-big-voice guy they got to replace him. The generation with their training and polish will never be compared. They are soulless and robotic. It is almost an assembly line.
We were in the same seats and bars that he was in, and he bitched about the power-play right into the booth. He was the first voice of sports for me and many others. It has been a rocky relationship at times.
Pat, farewell. Thank you.
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