
So how’s this for the requisite qualifications? I grew up a baby boomer in Detroit. From the age of about seven onward, we played hockey every day we could from November to June. We played in the icy streets after school in boots, until dark, back when salt wasn’t yet used to clear Detroit sidestreets. We went back out and played under the streetlight after dinner. We skated outdoors when somebody flooded our local parks. We played ball hockey in the spring after the snow melted. My brother constructed a terrific hockey rink in our backyard. We played recreation league hockey at Farwell Field for three years; I bussed on Saturdays to Gallagher Park near Jefferson in 1961 and played a season there. We played on weekends at Belle Isle whenever any parent would drive us there. We followed the Red Wings religiously starting in the early ’50s and Gordie Howe remains our god. We played spring hockey for two seasons at Gordie Howe Hockeyland in St. Clair Shores in the mid ’60s. I coached a team of kids when I was in college. As a young adult and local press member I was fortunate enough to play on a local media team that for three years regularly played and practiced against Howe, Ted Lindsay, and other former Red Wings stars.