Why Does Hockey Work In Nashville?

I have been a hockey fan for well over twenty years. My love for the game was planted and fostered by growing up during a dominant period in perhaps the most hockey rich market in the United States. We love hockey in Michigan and we love our 11-time Stanley Cup champion Detroit Red Wings. Growing up in Michigan in the 90s, it was pretty much impossible to avoid becoming a hockey fan. It’s with that background that I sit here watching game four of the Stanley Cup Final and wonder how the hell Nashville hockey became such a huge thing.

Let’s begin with a very brief history lessons. The Predators came to be as an expansion franchise in 1998. As a reward for their birth they were put in the same division as one of the greatest teams in NHL history (cheap plug for those late 90s Red Wings). They did what most expansion teams do in their first few years, they lost…a lot. The team routinely finished near the bottom of the Western Conference standings until breaking through to make the playoffs in 2004.

From 2004-2016, the team became a regular, if unspectacular participant in the Western Conference playoffs, never advancing out of the second round. Though this time did see them beat the Wings in round one, prompting me to take the picture below as punishment for losing a bet.

All of that mediocrity changed this season where the Preds find themselves just three wins from lifting the Cup at the time of this writing.

On the surface, the Predators seemed to be just the next step in the NHL’s crazy 90s expansion into markets that didn’t give a shit about hockey. Cities like Phoenix, Miami, Tampa, San Jose, and a few more warm weather locales found themselves proud owners of franchises throughout the decade. Most of this expansion was probably spurred by the popularity of the Los Angeles Kings in the early 90s as evidence that hockey can work in the sunshine. Of course the Kings had the greatest player in league history as a massive marketing chip, so that probably helped a little.

I’m sure a large number of people were wondering if hockey could work in the country music capital of the world when the Preds were announced. I’m sure the same people scratched their heads as the team held hockey 101 during games to teach the fans the most basic rules of the game. Then something happened, Nashville became a crazy passionate hockey market without having a super marketable player or ever being a serious Cup contender. People who didn’t know what a blue line or a one timer were years before were now nutso for their team. So why did hockey take off in Nashville the way it never did in Phoenix or the Carolinas?

A friend of mine who lives in Nashville, and is an ultra-annoying Preds fan, gives some of the credit to northern expats who have found their way from places like Minnesota and Michigan to Nashville over the years. While I’m sure this has something to do with it, it doesn’t tell the whole story. There are plenty of Michiganders in Arizona and no one gives a shit about the Coyotes. It can’t simply be a minority of out of towners making all that damn noise.

Could the passion of Nashville’s fanbase be a myth or an overreaction to a team making their first run at the Cup? This is a perfectly valid question, but I think the Cup run this year has simply shone a national spotlight on a hockey market that was already well established. I went to a Wings game in Nashville several years ago, long before this run was a reality, and I was floored by the fans at that game. I swaggered in sporting my winged wheel, fully expecting the Wings fans to outnumber the home town supporters. I have never been more mistaken in my life. That place was loud and rockin’ and full force for their Preds. Those fans have been loud as hell for years.

How about all those celebrities in the stands? Nashville is the country music capital of the world and those singers have miraculously taken to hockey like it was a can of shitty beer or a pickup truck. When I think country music, hockey is definitely the first thing that comes to mind…NOT (I’m in a very 90s state of mind right now). At any game you can find some country superstar in the stands and it seems they have an endless supply of Grammy winners eager to sing the national anthem. Carrie Underwood is at every game and loves hockey so much, she married it! (Good for you, Mike Fisher). Dierks Bentley has been a long time season ticket holder. Aussie supercouple Keith Urban and Nicole Kidman are often clad in ugly yellow and rooting for the home team. Having such a visual celebrity fanbase is a sure fire way to drum up support for your team.   

All of this stuff definitely played a hand in the ascension of hockey in Nashville, but the fire and passion the fans show runs much deeper than all that. Celebrities and random success don’t breed the kind of love you find at any given Preds game. This was not an example of a team coming to a community hungry for a hockey team, they had to learn the sport like a bunch of children. No, this was an example of something odd and unique (two word that could easily be used to describe hockey in Tennessee before 1998) coming to a place that values eccentricity and was ready to love something other than honky-tonks. It didn’t matter that the Preds were something they knew nothing about, they were Nashville’s and that was all that mattered. There is something beautiful in seeing the first generation of a fanbase, the people who had to learn what hockey was so future generations could have an established market.

I used to hate the Preds, mostly because they were division rivals of my Wings, but I have cooled on them since Detroit moved to the Eastern Conference. I am rooting for them now – mostly because fuck the Penguins – and I hope they can get it done for their fans. Nashville will never be Toronto, Montreal, or Detroit, but they have blown away all the other southern expansions teams in terms of fan passion and a Cup would be a perfect reward for that love. Fans who are this yahoo over a team that has never won so much as a division title deserve a winner.

And fuck the Penguins, fuck them for all eternity.     

Future Islands = Current Obsession

I am a man prone to musical obsessions. Something great will come along and I will hear it on TV or somewhere and that will be all I listen to for months on end. When I heard a Wilco song at the end of some TV show, I listened the their entire catalogue over the following days. The Hamilton soundtrack has been running around my turntable, earbuds, and head pretty much nonstop for the last four months. I find things that speak to me, things that are really able to burrow into my heart and brain and then I ride that shit 24 hours a day. It may not always be the best music, but I just look for things that elicit and emotional reaction from me and let it take me down the rabbit hole free of judgement or preconceived notions.

My current obsession is Future Islands. If you are hip and in the know, unlike myself, you probably know these guys from their performance on Letterman a few years back that went viral on the ole internet. I don’t know how I missing it the first time around (j/k, I miss almost everything the first time around because I never talk to people or go to places). Rest assured, I am completely onboard with these fellas now. If any of my hip friends told me about them years ago, I apologize for not taking your advice, though you will receive no credit for how I stumbled upon them because that would render everything I’m about to type completely irrelevant.

My first Future Islands exposure came with their single “Ran” off their latest release The Far Field. I’ve heard this jam on the radio here and there and liked it enough to put it on my Favorites of 2017 playlist. If this blog is still a thing at the end of the year, you may just get to see the full list. I enjoyed the synth-pop grooves and was particularly taken with singer Samuel T. Herrings distinct voice. He sounds like an old school crooner and I had a hard time getting that voice out of my head. This dude sounded so emotional, it was impossible to not be swept along in his current. I didn’t even know that half of it, not until I caught their performance on Conan last week. Take a look.

Holy shit. What the hell did I just see? Go back and watch it again, it’s okay, I did the exact same thing. This man is a wild beast who is possessed by the music and turns into a demon troubadour on stage. My first impression was an ugly troll who is deeply in love with a beautiful princess who doesn’t even know he exists. I wasn’t sure if I liked it or not, I just knew I had to see more of this band. I turned to the old, trusty internet and found the previously mentioned Letterman performance at the very top of my Google inquiry. Why don’t we take a second to check that out. 

 Holy shit again. If you’re anything like me, you just watched that five times in a row and then stopped reading this blog to go find more videos of these dudes doing what they do. More likely, you’ve already seen this video and are amused at how worked up I’m getting about something that happened about three years ago. Either way, I’m going to take a break from writing to watch this again.

Hot damn, still awesome. First, it’s just a really good song. Without a compelling song, this dude is just annoying and I want change the channel. “Season (Waiting on You)” is catchy and pulls all the feelings from deep down inside. “When people change, they gain a piece but they lose one, too.” That line could have been sucked right out of my soul as I struggle with becoming the man I want to be without giving up the things that used to define me. What pieces are we willing to part with as we evolve? What things or people need to be left behind so we can move forward? These questions haunt me in those moments between being asleep and awake when your brain does all its most annoying self-assessment.

There is also the element of trying to force a love by jamming a square peg in a round hole (go crazy with the sex joke here, folks, I know I did immediately after writing that). “I’ve tried hard just to soften you.” “I’ve grown tired trying to change for you.” I think we all know how mind-numbingly frustrating and heartbreaking it can be trying to change for someone or hoping they will eventually change for you. This is just an incredibly touching song.

Second, this motherfucker has got some moves. I want to watch Samuel T. Herring dance all day for the rest of my life. I have a vague notion that that is what I look like when I try to dance, though I am usually pretty drunk and probably just think I look that cool. He lets the music take control of his body and doesn’t worry one damn bit about what the outcome is, his moves are just honest and mesmerizing.

Let’s add in the emotion that exudes from his face while he is singing. Herring is living every memory and every hurt that went into the lyrics over and over and over again every time he sings. Fists in the air, pounding his chest, just don’t hold back, HEEEYAAAA! I wish I could spend one moment of my life being an uninhibited as Herring is every time he performs.

Finally, there is the voice. His velvety croon stands out in the modern music scenes and pairs well with his theatrical style. Wait, did this motherfucker just growl? Is he turning into a hunchback who is scary, though tragically misunderstood by villagers with torches and pitchforks? I would be annoyed with that kind of bullshit from anyone else, seeing it as a cheap novelty to cover up for shitty music, but it just seems to work coming from him and damn if I don’t absolutely love it. When you put that kind of fire and emotion on top of a great song you get a performance that is wild, passionate, and, I think, a little insane. I would pay very good money to see them live.       

-Dustin

This is the end (for me)

Season 7 of The Walking Dead. Ugh. Where to begin? I guess at the beginning. But it’s tough to remember the beginning because this sixteen episode season felt like at least three years. I am literally having a difficult time remembering what the hell even happened in the first half of the season.

I’m a firm believer that TV shows should be no longer than 10-12 episodes. Period. If you can’t tell a story in that amount of time, you’re terrible and need to quit. I know shows like the Walking Dead just print money for the networks, but come on, man (quit that banging). By episode three I was falling asleep. NOTHING WAS HAPPENING! And it’s a surprise to people that the ratings suffered?

The people in charge of this show really pulled the old bait-and-switch between season 6 and season 7. Yeah, the first episode had a “bombshell” by killing off two major characters (of what feels like 17 or 18. Someone count it up for me, please.), but who really cared about those characters? I know I didn’t. Spoilers ahead. Tread lightly if you care (which I can’t imagine anyone would).

Glenn. This guy somehow made it all the way from the first season. He had/has a baby on the way. (But who can tell? Maggie has to be to the point of showing now, right? Dumb.) But, lo and behold, the writers of the show completely stole any emotional impact of his death by doing one of those oh-so-cheap he’s dead!!!! Just kidding!!! He’s not dead!! He just improbably hid under some other poor sap’s body while the zombies went to town on him and then somehow hid under a dumpster until they all left or something. Holy shit. This goddamn show. Anyway, when he finally did get killed by Negan the only reaction I could muster was, “Huh. They should have just killed him under the dumpster.”

Should have been "Glenn dying underneath"

Abraham. He died. I don’t know. He was a main character (I guess) and he was in a relationship with two characters that should have died at least a season ago. He said funny things here and there but then that mild charm wore off on me by about the third time he said something WACKY (!!!) and profane.

Anyway, so that was the beginning of the season. Then all sorts of stuff happened but also nothing happened. I think one of the episodes was in black and white for a while. There was this town of women by the sea for some reason. We met some trash people. There’s a tiger that somehow knows the “good guys” from the “bad guys”. Everyone has Stormtrooper-caliber aim when shooting at any slightly main character. I mean, good God. Negan flipped like 15 people the bird while driving away in a canvas covered truck with the window down and not one bullet hit him? Since when did trucks become completely bullet-proof? And I loved that all of the good guys just waltzed into Alexandria and didn’t take any cover and somehow didn’t get destroyed. I guess I’m a fool to expect some realism from a show about the zombie apocalypse. (Speaking of which, were there any zombies in this season? This is like Prison Break. They’ve outlived the very name of the show.) (And please don’t bother listing all of the zombies that were in this season. I’m just trying to make a weak point here.)

Also, Darryl did a lot of grunting and scowling this whole season. This show is at that point where each character is just a caricature of what they were nearer to the beginning (see: Friends). They are all one-dimensional and the attempts to make them less so just fails miserably when the next episode shows them being…you guessed it, one-dimensional. Even Morgan, arguably the one character with the most potential, has just gone back to being like every other character.

But there’s gonna be a war! Next season. Or the season after that. There still seems to be a lot of milk left in this cow. Didn’t they mention a war sometime last season? Where was that? You had sixteen episodes and some of those were extended. And they didn’t even kill Coral. When can we be rid of that kid?

Just like this show.

All of this is to say, thank you to the writers for making my decision to quit watching this show an easy one.

Kevin and I Said Goodbye to The Joe

Kevin and I recently attended a Red Wings game, one of the last to be played at Joe Louis Arena. While we both agreed the Joe didn’t hold the same sentimental attachment for us Tiger Stadium did, it was cool to climb those insanely steep steps and squeeze into those super tiny seats one more time. A bonus for use, they were playing Toronto so we got to see a good game (unfortunately a loss) against an Original Six opponent instead of some bullshit team from a non-hockey city like Phoenix. What I took away from our trip was a deep sense of how lucky we have been in our lives to see our team achieve the highest levels possible and how it really is time for a new arena.

Unfortunately for us these were not the same Wings we grew up watching. More than once, we turned to each other and muttered “who is that guy?” For 25 straight years we have seen the Wings gearing up for a playoff run this time of year, not playing out their season and the final days of an outdated arena. Twenty-five years, that is 75% of my life spent watching the Wings in the playoffs. Their run is a remarkable fete in not only hockey, but the history of ALL sports and seems unlikely to be duplicated in the salary cap era.

I started following hockey in 1995 when the Wings made it to Stanley Cup Finals, getting swept by the Devils and extending Detroit’s Cup drought to 40 years. Growing up, hockey was never a big deal in my house, baseball was the sport we lived and breathed. I wouldn’t have been able to pick Steve Yzerman out of a crowd before my dear friend Mike decided I should be a hockey fan (a million thanks to that beautiful man). Hockey was to his family what baseball was to mine so he was already well versed in a sport I knew nothing about. I was twelve and wanted to play with my friend so I took in as much hockey as I could, and it didn’t take long to get hooked. It helped that this was the era Yzerman, Lidstrom, and my personal favorite at the time, Sergei Fedorov.

Though his rep would take a hit in Detroit in the decade to come, Fedorov was still at the height of his popularity and was arguably the best player in the league at that time. While everyone else fought over who loved Yzerman more, and rightfully so, I was mesmerized by the way Fedorov skated with speed and power, the way he could fight off defenders and score almost at will. I had me a number 91 jersey and a bitchin’ Nike stick that probably set my mom back way too much from the old savings account. He is as nearly as responsible as Mike for my love of hockey.  

In the years since 1991, we have seen one of the most dominant stretches in the history of sports. From 1991 to 2016, the Wings rank first in the NHL in wins (1,133), goals (6,518), playoff wins (170), and are tied for first with 4 Stanley Cups (eat a dick, Pittsburgh). Fifteen players who skated for the Wings in those years are in the Hall of Fame. Yzerman, Lidstrom, Fedorov, Brendan Shanahan, Igor Larionov, Larry Murphy, Chris Chelios, Dominik Hasek, Slava Fetisov, Brett Hull, Luc Robitaille, Paul Coffey, Dino Ciccarelli, Mike Modano, and Mark Howe. Pavel Datsyuk will join that list once he officially retires form the NHL. Mike Ilitch, Scotty Bowman, and Jim Devellano are also in the Hall. Nine of those guys were on the 2002 super team, probably the best team ever.    

Outside of the last few seasons, this was not simply 25 years of barely getting into the postseason only to get bounced in the first round. The Wings routinely finished at or near the top of the standings and were serious Cup contenders almost every year. They won the President’s Trophy six times during the streak and set the single season win record with 62 wins in the 1995-96 season. They didn’t end that year with the Cup, but it did launch the most intense rivalry these eyes have ever seen.

The Red Wings/Avalanche rivalry didn’t last long, but when it was on it burned with intensity of 7,000 suns. From 1996-2002 the teams met five times in the Western Conference playoffs and combined for five of the seven Stanley Cups won over that time. They were easily to two best teams in the league and they hated the shit out of each other. It all started with that shit bag Claude Lemieux smashing Kris Draper’s face into the boards with one of the cheapest, dirtiest hits ever laid out. The Wings got their revenge the next season by bouncing the Aves from the playoffs and winning the Cup. We also got this classic Joe moment.

  

 

Perhaps the best thing about the 2002 Cup win was blasting the hell out of Patrick Roy in game seven of the Conference Finals. I almost pissed myself when that dick did his stupid little Statue of Liberty thing and the puck trickled into the net behind him.

It is almost fitting that the streak should end this year. The team was terrible with Mike Ilitch bought them, it makes sense that the passing of the man responsible for it all would bring an end to the run. Also, they were terrible when they moved into the Joe, might as well be terrible as they leave and move to a new arena. Hopefully they can create the same level of excellence at the shiny, new (and shittily named) Little Caesars Arena. Horrible names aside, I can’t wait for them to be in their new digs. It brings all the teams in Detroit to the same area, making a great vibe downtown. And, if we’re being honest, the Joe is kind of a shit hole. It lacks any sort of modern amenities, it’s in a less than desirable part of town, and fat people cannot be comfortable in those damn seats. Sure, the place gave us some great moments, like this. 

And this.

  

And a million more, but it is time to move on.

There is reason to be excited about the Wings. There are some intriguing young players on the team, though none of them play defense, and there is reason to believe they will be back in the playoffs before too long. While the salary cap almost guarantees we will never see another era of dominance like the Wings just ended, it also promises that any team actually interested in improving (so not Phoenix) won’t be down for long. Gone are the glory days of our childhood, but I don’t think there will be another 42 year Cup drought in Hockeytown.