Let’s pretend the Phoenix Coyotes were playing the Chicago Blackhawks in this year’s playoffs rather than the Detroit Red Wings.
Before I go further, let me explain something: There was once a time when the Phoenix Coyotes were called the Winnipeg Jets. During that time, I was a Chicago Blackhawks fan. I was born in Chicago, and raised as a Hawks fan: Goulet, Larmer, Magnusson, Esposito, Lysiak, Grimson, Smith, Chelios (hell, even Bannerman!) – those were my boys. My Hawks love continued after moving to Arizona. I was one of the few kids in school who liked hockey, and the only one who liked the Blackhawks (damn Gretzky and his trendy black-and-silver LA Kings). Losses would ruin my day, especially since I knew the inbred Canucks fan in my algebra class couldn’t wait to give me crap as if I gave up a soft goal or missed an open net.
So, you probably think I’d root against the Coyotes if they faced the Blackhawks. After all, I’ve never bonded with the Coyotes as I did with the Blackhawks (I always preferred the minor league Roadrunners).
But you’d be wrong.
I am a Phoenician, and have been since 1980. When the Coyotes arrived in the late 90s, I offered the team my loyalty.
That’s because there are certain things I understand: My home is where I am right now, and the past is the past.
If I put the Blackhawks before the Coyotes, I’d feel like a false Phoenician. It is up to me to help give [...]
