The roar has been restored....

What a game, what a series. Hard, physical, exciting. So many moments in this series when the Hawks stood tall, looked defeated, and roared back. So many moments when young players came of age, shook off their playoff inexperience, and helped the team win.

My head was in the clouds for Game 1, just excited to see this team back in the playoffs. Exhausted at the tension until Havlat ended it in OT. Game 2 was even more memorable, having witnessed it firsthand. I was stunned when the Flames jumped out early, but catatonic as the Hawks rallied. I'll never forget the final two minutes, as the entire crowd stood as one and cheered the Hawks to the end. I've never heard a stadium so loud in my life.

Games 3 and 4 brought me back to Earth. The Hawks fought hard, made bad mistakes, and rallied. At times they looked lost, overwhelmed by the bigger Flames and their hostile crowd. But they fell short both times.

I was nervous for Game 5. Even though they were playing in front of their crowd, could they regain momentum? The series was now tied, and if the Hawks fell short, trying to fight off elimination in Calgary looked daunting. Could they step it up? The Hawks hit the gas from the opening puck drop and never looked back. They crashed the net, they hit the Flames all over the place. They struck early and often. The game was a blowout, and they answered all the questions. They responded.

Game 6. Back to hostile Calgary. The kids looked poised early on, making some great scoring chances. They seemed to have more energy, more bounce in their legs. They used the same formula from Game 5, striking early, and behind some good defense and great goaltending, headed into the 3rd with a 3-0 lead. The Flames checked out. They looked gassed. Their crowd was silent.

But the Flames struck early, sensing desperation. And for awhile, the Flames took control, creating scoring chances, hitting the Hawks harder and more often, and forcing Chicago into way too many icing infractions. But they slowly regained control, and finished them off.

So many things to be proud of, tonight, and in the series.

Khabby standing on his head, making terrific save after terrific save. He looked awesome in the first two games, mortal in the middle two, and was otherworldly in the last two. He stopped 43 of 44 shots in the clincher, singlehandedly carrying the team to the win.

The defense of Keith and Seabrook. They shut down the Flames' best scoring chances. They never panicked or looked lost. Each time a Flame player got close to the net, they locked in and removed the rebound. Calgary's game plan was to get shots on net and crash it for rebounds. Didn't happen with Keith and Seabrook back deep.

Kane and Toews showing discipline, skill, and courage in their first playoff series. The Flames tried to bully them, take them out of their game, and wear them down. But the kids played and fought hard, didn't bite when Calgary goaded them, and gained valuable experience.

Rookie Kris Versteeg leading the team in scoring.

Big Buf crashing the net and leading the series in hits.

Adam Burish giving the Flames fits with his physical play.

The Havlat-Bolland-Ladd line shutting down Calgary's best scorers.

And just when Calgary scored in Game 6, closing the score to 3-1, the Flames looked like they were about to make a run. Their energy picked up. Their crowd was back into it. They were getting good chances, and the Hawks looked like they were about to crack. But Sammy Pahlsson took control, and like a leader does, calmed the troops. Within minutes, the Hawks were back in control.

Vancouver looms next. A bigger, faster, and better team than Calgary. They mauled the Hawks in their last two meetings of the season. And the Hawks don't have home-ice this time. Frankly, they scare the everliving shit out of me.

But for now, it's nice to savor this.

I can't wait...

These have been some seriously happy times in Chicago sports these days. The Bears traded for Jay Cutler. The Bulls were dead to rights 2/3 of the way through the season, but a big trade turned things around, and now Derrick Rose gets to taste a sweep in the playoffs. And the White Sox... well let's not go there yet. The season is still too young.

And then there's the Blackhawks. That's right. The Chicago Blackhawks. The team I adored since I was 12 years old, the team I followed through the glory days of the 90's, and the team I regretfully followed during the dark days. Finally back in the postseason for the first time since 2002.

After a string of seasons in the 90's in which they were competitive and made the playoffs, the Hawks entered some dark times. They turned away popular players, former stars, mainstays, and most fans. The team went in the toilet. For several years during the new millennium, the team ignored the city and the city returned the favor. It was sickening. Everything I associated with this team was gone. My favorite players were traded for nothing. Free agents passed through the city on layovers, not to visit the Hawks. They screwed up draft picks. Their cheap owner didn't care, and loyal Hawks fans did the same.

As much as I wanted to, I couldn't divorce them. I just couldn't. All the fun I had in the 90's with them. All the stories I heard about when they owned this city. Not even the Bears could touch this team when the Hawks were really good.

I turned it down a notch. I didn't follow them as closely, and I certainly didn't watch their games. But I kept an eye on them. I knew things would turn around, someway, somehow.

And they did. Ownership changed hands. Smarter management took over. Old men in charge who laughed at the fans and pocketed our money were castoff. Smart free agent signings, trades, and draft picks were made. They reached out to former stars. They reached out to the fans. They hired a group of really hot girls to shovel ice shavings.

To put it in other words, it was like I dated a really cute girl for awhile. For several years, things went really good. We had some down times, but mostly we had great memories. Then all of a sudden, she stopped caring. She gained weight. She lied to me. She laughed at me. She let herself go. She did everything to chase me away. But I was too proud, holding onto those memories of the past. So we took a little bit of a break. And then her younger, much hotter, and much more caring sister came along.

And so the Hawks entered this year with high hopes. After a strong '07-'08 season that saw them fall just short of the playoffs, they made some key moves and looked primed to make some noise. They got off to a slow start, and Savvy got fired. They got hot, they went cold. They could beat the Sharks, but somehow lose to the Islanders. It was tough, but I kept telling myself that they were growing. They were learning. After all, they're the youngest team in the NHL, and their captain is 20.

They kept plugging away. They hit a rough patch, and looked lost. But then they regained their mojo at the right time, and are entering the playoffs as one of the hottest teams in the league. Got huge seasons from young and old alike. Played in some seriously critical games at the end of the year, and mostly came out on top.

And now, here they are. Hours away from a date with the Calgary Flames. In the playoffs.

This is why you stick with your team. This is why you do not abandon them when things go south. Because your patience will be rewarded. When your team is a doormat for years, when they become a punch line, it hurts. But you can't let go of them. And you hurt with them. But then things sort of come together. And all those bad times start to improve.

That flicker of hope gets bigger, and stronger. Bad signings, trades and draft picks are washed aside by good ones. Players who care about the logo on the front of the jersey, and not the name on the back. Players that care for each other. Players that care about the fans in the stands.

All those painful moments of watching your team go down. Yeah, they sting. But then it suddenly changes. They get better. They get more respect. And you feel proud to call yourself a fan. You didn't jump ship with the rest of them. You held on until the ship almost completely submerged, and now the ship isn't just floating, it's roaring across the seas.

When your team finally figures it out. When you proudly wear your team's hat. You stick with your team because when things do get better, it tastes that much sweeter.


I can't wait for tonight.

I can't wait to watch the local TV broadcasts, as the analysts talk up the game, and the cameras show eager, anxious fans filing into the stadium.

I can't wait to see the Blackhawks take the ice for the first time, and to hear the reaction the fans pour onto them.

I can't wait to hear the national anthem (hopefully sung by Wayne Messmer), and hear the fans roar like they did back at the old Chicago Stadium.

I can't wait to hear Pat Foley call his first playoff game in years. To hear the biggest Hawks fan in the world make his signature calls with his youthful enthusiasm and loyalty. When I hear his voice, I think of the Hawks in the playoffs.

I can't wait to hear the crowd build with anticipation with every odd-man rush.

I can't wait to hear the crowd cheer with every big save from Khabby.

I can't wait for that first Hawks shot to hit the back of the net, and to hear the crowd blow the roof off of the stadium.

I can't wait to see the Ice Crew decked out in their playoff best.

I can't wait to see Toews lead his team through their first playoff game.

I can't wait to hear the organ... and the fog horn.

I can't wait to see and hear this city and this team finally come full circle and embrace each other in one loud and emotional game.

I can't wait to see it all in person Saturday night.

I can't wait...

I've seen a million faces... AND I ROCKED THEM ALL!!!

Along the same lines as my last posting, another fun story from my winter break that finally needs to be told...

Saturday night, January 17th. I was back in Chicago for my last hurrah before school started back up. JM and I hit the Bulls game earlier in the night, then met up with JK after the game and played some darts.

Many drinks and victorious dart games later, I told JM we needed to hit Louie's. Louie's is a special place for me. A karaoke bar nestled in the Wicker Park neighborhood, not a far walk from JM's place. I had overcome my nerves (alcohol usually helps) to sing to a packed Louie's twice before, singing Journey's Don't Stop Believin'. I had done quite well. I had my fellow patrons singing with me, and some cheering whenever I threw in the occasional White Sox reference. But this night was going to be different. I had made up my mind that Journey was not to be sung.

But I kept JM and JK in the dark. I didn't tell them what I was going to sing. We arrived at the bar, I put my name and song in, and paitiently waited my turn. Little did anyone know that I had been practicing this particular song on Rock Band and Guitar Hero in the days leading up. I was ready. I wasn't even nervous. I was anxious and excitied more than anything.

There were maybe 4 or 5 people ahead of me. They all sang songs that were either boring or unknown by the majority of the crowd. I could feel the energy of the bar waning. I was being set up for the kill. Perfect timing.

They called my name. And like MJ in Game 6 of the '98 Finals, I swiped the ball from Karl Malone and made my slow trot to center stage. My moment was here. I may have been doubted by some... but just like MJ, I knew I was going to blow the roof off the place. I was supremely confident and ready for my moment.

The opening bars of Bon Jovi's Livin' On A Prayer started. And the crowd instantly awoke. I already had them on my side.

To say I rocked the place would be an understatement. I held that microphone like I was born to do this. I didn't just sing, I played to the crowd. I let them sing portions of the chorus by holding the mic out to random people. I walked through the bar to make sure everyone was into it. And they were. I didn't once look at the TV screen for words. I knew them like the back of my hand, like that familiar taste of kissing a long lost love.

The crowd was mine. They sang and danced along. Before the song was half over, I had random girls grabbing me in different directions to sing along with me. I simply didn't have the time to walk up to all of them, so they took matters into their own hands...

The song ended. The crowd was euphoric. They cheered for me like I've never been cheered for before. And all along, I had my two best buddies, brothers to me, along for the ride.

I know I'm boasting. In reality, rock star lead singer is not in my future. I don't have the pipes or stage presence for it. And to be honest, I probably sang off key, and the only reason I rocked the crowd was because I played a familiar song and they were just as drunk as I was.

But for a brief time, I was Mick Jagger, David Lee Roth, and Robert Plant all rolled into one. For 4 minutes and 9 seconds, Louie's changed their name to Erik's.

My religious experience with Jim Thome

I know I've been slacking big time with the blog lately. One posting in almost two whole months? I have excuses. School was kicking my ass in December. I recently joined facebook. I moved into a new house. I got wrapped up in the resurrection of my beloved Blackhawks. I put my ps3 online (big mistake). School started back up. The White Sox aren't playing right now. And I kind of got wrapped up chasing girls I have no business chasing.

But my two readers would have none of this.

I have a few topics to blog about, but for now, I'll treat you to my morning spent with Jim Thome.

January 13, another slow and boring morning at Dick's Sporting Goods. I was in the backstock trying to look busy. A girl that worked at the front noticed a familiar face walk in, and knowing how I kind of like the Sox, immediately called me.

Tonia: "Erik! Where are you??? You will not believe who is shopping for shoes right now!"
Me: "I'm in the backstock... Who's out there?"
Tonia: "Jim Thome!"
Me: "Yeah right."
Tonia: "Look for yourself!"

So I walk out on the floor. And standing 5 feet from me is Jim Freaking Thome.

Me: "Holy shit!!! Jim Thome!!!"
Jim: "Hey there! What's up, buddy?"

And then HE holds out his hand to shake mine. I was stunned.

Jim: "What's your name?"
Me: "Er...Erik."
Jim: "Good to meet you, Erik!"
Me: "Mr. Thome... I'm a huge White Sox fan... Huge fan of you too..."
Jim: "Awesome!"

He then proceeded to ask me a few questions about a particular brand of shoes, stating how he was negotiating an endorsement deal with said shoe company. He wanted to try them out prior to signing the deal. So he bought five pairs for himself and his family. He was talking about the shoes, the potential deal, what he was up to in Peoria... and my mind wasn't registering that I was talking to Jim Thome. It was blank. I just stood there and listened. There were so many things I wanted to ask him. But within a few minutes he was getting ready to leave. My hands were sweating, I was shaking, my voice was cracking. So I had to stop and ask just one more question.

I thought about my greatest memory of last season, in the divisional playoff game against the Twins. With the score 0-0, both pitchers absolutely locked in, and the tension beyond words. Then, in the 7th inning he launched a moon shot that still hasn't landed. A moment that launched me out of my seat.

I asked him about that moment, and what it felt like. He told me that it was beyond description. How his heart was pounding so hard and he barely felt his feet running around the bases. How cool the blacked-out crowd looked. And how he'll never forget it because it launched the Sox into the playoffs.

Not wanting to take up anymore of his time, I nervously asked for an autograph, wished him luck in the upcoming season, and HE shook my hand once more and thanked me.

And just like that he was gone.

I couldn't get myself back to work. I was absolutely stunned about what had just transpired. I had just had a one-on-one conversation with one of my favorite baseball players, who also just happens to play for my favorite team. I had heard stories about how he's the nicest guy in baseball, how he's never let stardom or money get to his head, how he's so approachable and down to earth. And I experienced it first hand. He was happy to meet a fan, he took the time to talk to me, and happily obliged for an autograph. I've met other Sox players before, but not like this. This was beyond words. To meet him at my job, where he acted just like every other customer I've ever helped.

I've always liked Jim Thome. Not so much when he was an Indian and he routinely killed the Sox. But when he went to the Phillies, I began to appreciate him. And when the Sox got him, I was ecstatic. But now... he's quite possibly one of my favorite players EVER.