Hartford Whalers spirit is alive and well in CT

When I was in elementary and middle school - you know, back when NHL hockey was actually popular - I was really into hockey. It was arguably the sport I was best at, and every single one of my friends followed the game. Growing up in Wayne, New Jersey, most of my friends were Devils fans but there were a few (stubborn) Rangers holdouts. And I will admit it: I was definitely a Devils fan. I played goalie so I loved Martin Brodeur...I owned his jersey and autographed hockey cards and bobbleheads and all the other collectibles kids tend to accumulate. And I went to more than my share of Devils games, both regular season and playoff.

That said, I could not (and still cannot) ignore my passion for the Whale. Hockey is the only sport where I root for two teams, but before you criticize this apparent crime, allow me to explain. The Hartford Whalers have a very important place in my heart. See, I grew up in New Jersey all alone with my family of four. Every single relative lived in Connecticut, and my grandparents owned 2 season tickets to the Whalers. Section 119 -- the Whalers' end of the ice.

My grandparents loved the Whalers, and knowing that I loved hockey, every trip up to central Connecticut meant going to a Whalers game. Those are some of my absolute favorite memories as a kid. I remember driving from Bloomfield or Simsbury and going into "the city" -- while I now know that Hartford isn't exactly a big city, when I was 9 it seemed enormous and overwhelming. I remember eating dinner in the food court of the since-closed Civic Center Mall before games. I remember countless brawls (between both fans and players) whenever we played a division rival, especially if that rival was the Bruins or Rangers. I remember the Brass Bonanza -- the hokey but addicting theme song of the Whalers that is still played today at countless New England-area sporting events. I remember a crowd that wore more Whalers apparel than any other sports team. Seriously, everyone wore something Whalers or something green. The only other team that even comes close is the Yankees, but their new corporate ticket prices will produce more suits and fewer jerseys (Hartford fans, your title is safe).

Anyway, part of what drew me to the Whalers was the small town, lovable loser sentiment surrounding the team. Unlike rooting for the Yankees, Giants, Devils, and Nets -- each of which has multiple championships or championship appearances -- the Whalers actually lost more games than they won in their entire existence. They won their division only once, in 1986-87. They lost in the Adams Division semifinal six years in a row. They traded the only two superstars they ever developed -- Ron Francis and Ulf Samuelsson -- in the same trade to Pittsburgh, and both went on to win 2 Stanley Cups with the Penguins. That kind of stuff only happened to the Whalers.

Unlike my teams in North Jersey or New York, Hartford was an admittedly small town to have a pro team. Connecticut residents had only two teams: the Whalers and anything UConn. So they fell in love with the only pro team in town. They stuck with them through ups and downs, and for a while, they continued buying tickets to the undersized-yet-conveniently-located Hartford Civic Center.

Speaking of which...the Civic Center. It still stands today but has been renamed the XL Center, which speaks to just how pervasive the insurance industry is in this town. I still get chills whenever I go there for a UConn basketball game or a rare Hartford Wolf Pack hockey game. The Whalers banners are still hanging from the rafters, and they can always be seen whenever the camera shows a UConn basketball player attempting a free throw (or when watching a slam dunk highlight). Every time I see a game at the Civic Center (er, XL Center) I see someone wearing something Whalers. Every single time.

Anyway, the Whalers were just a lovable group of guys. Gordie Howe, one of the original "New England Whalers", was constantly hanging around. My grandfather once met him in the aforementioned Civic Center food court. Their captain, Kevin Dineen, not only has Crohn's Disease but also volunteered five times to be the MC for the CCFA charity golf tournament in Simsbury that my grandparents help run (and I play in) every June. That's how the Whalers interacted with the people of Hartford - frequently and genuinely.

The Whalers left Hartford after the 1996-97 season because of their putrid owner, Peter Karmanos. (Karmanos is like Hamen -- nobody's name draws more boos or hisses than his in Hartford.) At the time, Karmanos pointed to dwindling attendance figures and a less-than-tremendously-profitable arena as reasons for leaving town. But we later learned that he never intended to keep the team in Hartford. North Carolina, or whatever market was then suited for a pro hockey team, was his ultimate destination. The loss of the Whale left a gaping hole in the heart of Hartford.

Today, I still root for the Devils, and I will never root for the Carolina Freakin Hurricanes. When I moved to Hartford for law school, I decked out my apartment with my fair share of Whalers memorabilia. I still have my Dineen jersey (and still wear it when the time is right), but I also have banners and bumper stickers and logo pucks and hockey cards. My girlfriend asked me why I still root for a team that no longer exists. I say it's because the team never really left Hartford. Drive around the city and you'll see license plate frames and vanity plates and flags on peoples' houses. Mention the Whale to any long-time CT resident and you'll get a knowing (if not forlorn) smile. The passion is still there, and many people believe that with a new arena and a displaced team, NHL hockey can still successfully return to Hartford.

Last year, I joined the Hartford Whalers Booster Club. For the price of only $10, I support the grassroots efforts of many to bring pro hockey back to this city. A couple of weeks ago, I attended my first HWBC meeting at Mayor Mike's bar and restaurant downtown. I was absolutely blown away by the people who showed up. Everyone was wearing Whalers green and some of the clothes were vintage 1980's items. There was a merchandise table full of original pieces (imagine my delight). And they also had a projector showing a DVD copy of the Whalers' last home game, a 2-1 win over Tampa Bay. Fittingly, Kevin Dineen scored the last goal in Whalers history.

Watching that game with those die-hards made me remember why I loved the Whalers so much, even if they weren't truly "my" team. So many fans had brought posters to the game, thanking the players for many wonderful years of exciting hockey. When the camera zoomed in on fans crying -- both children and adults -- I felt their pain. Their team was being swept out from underneath them and moved far away to Raleigh. The Whalers were the life blood of Hartford, and the tributes made by the fans to the players (and at the end of the game, from the players to the fans) were touching. And to show how well Hartford fans knew the game, one of the guys I was watching the broadcast with said, "Twelve years later and the Whalers' power play still pisses me off."

I am realistic about the chances that Hartford will get another NHL team. The likelihood is probably ten percent or less. But I really admire the HWBC for trying to rally everyone behind this cause. Hartford was a great hockey town; it only suffered from a losing team and an underperforming arena. If the Whale, or their reincarnation, ever returns to Hartford, I will be first in line for season tickets. Even if that's just to relive some wonderful childhood memories, I don't care. I just want to be part of a small market that is in love with its one sports team. It's a pretty unique situation here in the Northeast, and I applaud the HWBC for trying to recreate it.

Long live the Whale!

Update: I took these photos with my iPhone today (4/27/09) at a store in Westfarms Mall, West Hartford, CT.