The green light flashes, the flags goes up,Churning and burning, they yearn for the Cup.
Cake, "The Distance,"
1996.The Chicago Blackhawks are the Stanley Cup champions, defeating the tough but overmatched Philadelphia Flyers in Game 6. It is their first Cup win since 1961. I don't want to say my life is complete, but with tonight's triumph, each of the professional sports team I support, the Chicago White Sox, the Bulls, and "Da Bears," have won it all since I was born. I'm enjoying a great sense of fulfillment.
In a bizarre overtime finish, Patrick Kane scored a goal that initially only he saw. But a win is a win! My window is open in Morton Grove, I can hear celebatory fireworks.
As a boy I watched on television--and sometimes when I should have been sleeping, I had a transistor radio snuggled into my ear--as I followed the heroics of Bobby Hull, Stan Mikita, and Tony Esposito. Later Jeremy Roenick, Denis Savard, and Chris Chelios achieved ice greatness in Chicago. But despite three trips to the finals, I haven't seen a man with an Indian head on his sweater hoist the Cup.
Until tonight.
New heroes, Jonathan Toews, Patrick Kane, Dustin "Big Buff" Byfuglien, and Antti Niemi have broken a nearly half-century drought.
Jonathan Toews has been named most valuable player of the finals.
Thank you, guys.
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