Hockeytown

In Detroit, hockey fans can carry on a conversation using only one word. I found out firsthand on Wednesday night, when the following conversation took place between a shuttle driver and a fan waiting outside Joe Louis Arena:

Fan: Hockeytown?

Driver: Hockeytown, Hockeytown!

Fan: Hockeytown. (To other fans waiting in line behind him) Hockeytown!

The other fans, in response: Hockeytown!

I'll act as translator: Hockeytown is the name of the Detroit sports-themed restaurant across the street from Comerica Park where many arena-goers park and congregate, then take the shuttle to Joe Louis. The fan was asking the driver where the shuttle was headed.

They probably don't have these kinds of conversations in other cities. Not even Toronto or Montreal. Because, in Detroit, as my friend Justin and I found out, Hockeytown isn't just the name of a restaurant or a catchy, self-made moniker. It's an experience, and a fast-fading one at that.

Detroit isn't Baseballtown, even though the Tigers have a history dating to 1901. It isn't Basketballtown, even though the Pistons have handed Detroiters three titles in the past 20 years. It isn't Wolverinetown, even though the sight of a man wearing a Michigan jacket on the Joe Louis scoreboard brought loud cheers from the crowd and -- curiously, to my outsider eyes -- the image of a man in a Michigan State hat brought more than a smattering of boos.

Detroit is Hockeytown. The Red Wings are life. Everything else is a diversion. How do I know? Because when a Detroit fan go to a Lions or Tigers game, they might be just as at home pounding a Dortmunder at the bar or perusing the team shop as they would be in the stands. That's not to say they aren't serious baseball and football fans, but Detroiters, like most fan bases, aren't going to turn their noses up at creature comforts.

When a Detroit fan goes to a Red Wings game, they go to watch hockey. The brats and brews are just sustenance to keep you going so you can watch more hockey. The Red Wings gear, sold at portable stands throughout the concourse, is just a means of keeping warm so you can watch more hockey.

That's another thing. At least 50 percent of the fans at Wednesday's game wore a Red Wings jersey. Sure, there were other fans wearing jackets, sweatshirts and the like, but the clothing of preference was a game sweater bearing the team's winged-wheel logo. Names and numbers, home or road was less important. What was more important was that you were part of the sea of red and white.

Like I said, it's all about the hockey.

Joe Louis Arena is the oldest of the Detroit area's four in-use professional sports facilities, built in 1979. But to look at it, you could easily think it was built in 1949. The arena has no frills, no team shop, no food courts, nothing that resembles a bar. Aside from a few alcoves where they sell of the more-expensive merchandise, just about everything in the concourse during a game is constructed out of portable stands.

The seating bowl is small and is surrounded by one concourse that services both the upper and lower decks. Wikipedia lists the capacity at 20,066 for hockey, but with a low roof and steep incline, it seems almost like a college arena. So much the better during playoff time, when "The Joe," as they call it, has to be deafening.

Joe Louis was built at a time when the Montreal Forum and Boston Garden were still the standard-bearers for NHL arenas. In some respects, it was a facility behind its time, built to the specifications of a fast-passing era. Now, with facilities like Columbus' gem, Nationwide Arena, setting the pace, the pressure is on to give the Red Wings a more modern home with a better sound system, stacks of luxury boxes and all the amenities pro sports teams can now use to get into the wallets of their fans.

Sooner or later, The Joe will pass into history. And with it, one of the few remaining portals to a bygone era of hockey will pass as well. In a very real way, Joe Louis Arena and the entire Hockeytown experience is the old-guard NHL of Gordie Howe and Bobby Orr clinging to the side of the cliff. Progress will eventually win out, but for now, fans of the way hockey used to be have one last chance to see what it must have been like to attend a game at Boston Garden or Chicago Stadium back in the days of the Original Six.

If you want to imagine hockey with no helmets and leather pads, with 20,000 people making a bandbox of a building shake, Joe Louis Arena provides the perfect backdrop for a daydream about yesteryear. In a time of exploding scoreboards and 360-degree LED displays curling around deck facades, Hockeytown is different. Even if you don't like the Red Wings, it's an experience worth rooting for.

Feeding the Monsters

You're going to love and hate the Lake Erie Monsters.

You're going to love the fact that they aren't the Fighting Walleye, which widely-circulated rumors had as the decided-upon name for Cleveland's new American Hockey League franchise.

You're going to love that, with image-savvy Dan Gilbert at the helm, this franchise is going to make enough noise to be heard among the tall timber of the Browns, Indians and Cavs. The Monsters' AHL predecessors, the Barons, were run in such a low-key fashion, many Clevelanders didn't even know we had a hockey team from 2000 to '05.

There is a reason why the Barons looked at moving to the Quad Cities before settling on Worcester, Mass last year. That franchise was in over its head competing with three major-league teams for attention and revenue. You can't run a Quad Cities operation in a metropolitan area of 2.5 million people and expect to get noticed.

The Monsters won't make that mistake. Like the Lumberjacks, you'll at least know they exist even if you don't really follow sports.

You'll hate the Monsters because, for the first time in Cleveland's history, one of our sports teams will not pledge allegiance to the city. (Yes, for any know-it-all who wants to point it out, I remembered the Lake County Captains. They play outside Cuyahoga County, so I don't consider them a Cleveland team per se.)

Not only will the Monsters not align themselves with Cleveland, they're not even aligning themselves with a land mass. The Monsters will play for a body of water.

However, if you believe this commentary I wrote a couple of years ago, maybe flattering Lake Erie with name recognition isn't such a bad idea.

You'll love having a minor league hockey team worth paying attention to. You will, however, hate the prices you'll have to pay to see it. It's decidedly NHL without the level of competition.

Glass seats will cost you $60. The cheapest ticket prices will be $10, just like Cavs games.

Gilbert is betting that he's going to be able to spice up Monsters games with enough bright lights and shiny objects to make you forget that it's only a farm team on the ice. In the world of corporate sports, remember, you're not just paying for the game, you're paying for all the chotchkie tosses, laser-light displays, exploding scoreboards and sexy dancers that pelt your senses when the game is not in progress.

Knowing Gilbert's flamboyant presentation style, it will probably be Cirque du Soleil during the first intermission and Disney on Ice during the second.

Gilbert is smart along those lines. Since minor league teams are largely at the mercy of their parent clubs with regard to what players they employ, you can't put a lot of stock in wins as a crowd-drawing tool. It's all about the stuff that fills the breaks in the action.

Cleveland hockey fans finally have a team back. That's what we get out of it. Gilbert gets 41 games' worth of ticket, merchandise and concessions revenue. That's really what this is all about.

Being from Michigan, I'm sure Gilbert loves hockey. Back in his younger days, some daydream probably would have found him pulling on a Red Wings jersey and skating a shift with Gordie Howe. But more than that, Gilbert loves turning his Cleveland arena into a money maker even when the Cavs aren't playing and U2 isn't performing.

That's the real story behind the Lake Erie Monsters. Love it or hate it.