Exactly one year ago today, I wrote a column about being old, and the subtle things I miss about what hockey used to be. No big issues, to be clear – we’re talking stuff like how the water bottles used to pop off the nets, and how linesmen used to have to climb the glass to avoid the puck. If I’m being honest, I figured it would be a bit of a throwaway, the kind of midseason filler that’s fun for a day and then fades quickly. Instead, it became one of my more popular columns of the season, and I decided to make it a regular feature.
Then I forgot. Because I am old.
But if there’s anything us old fogies do better than the occasional memory lapse, it’s celebrating the random anniversary of things that weren’t all that important to begin with. So today, one year later, I’m bringing the gimmick back, with a half dozen new items. Well, old ones. You’ll figure it out.
But first, just like last time, a disclaimer: This is all in good fun, and very much not meant to be some whiny screed about how much better things used to be, and how Gary Bettman has ruined everything by dragging the game into the 20th century. If you have strong feelings about that stuff, please take them elsewhere, because I am decrepit and fragile.
Let’s get old.
I miss when the nets were loose and baggy
How it used to be: A player would carry the puck through the neutral zone, with nobody in his way because the trap hadn’t been invented yet. Then he’d skate to the top of the circle and wind up for a slap shot because gap control hadn’t been invented yet. Then he’d rip a howitzer past a terrified tiny man because goaltending hadn’t been invented yet.
And then the puck would stay in the net. Somewhere.
You see, kids, back in the old days the nets were loose and baggy. That made sense to us because their job was to stop the puck when a goal had been scored. So even if you lost track of the puck, which you definitely did thanks to the 14-inch standard-definition TV the whole family was crowded around, you’d see a big bulge in the back of the net and know that goal had been scored.
Why it changed: Presumably because the linesmen complained about having to go elbow-deep in fishing twine to retrieve a puck while everyone else waited for the game to start. And sure, I get that. But at some point, net-tightening technology got out of control, to the point where the things barely seem to have any give at all anymore.
Why I miss it: First of all, because I’m tired of being confused about whether a goal was even scored because the puck goes into the net at 95 mph and comes out at roughly 96, eventually embedding itself in the boards at the opposite end of the rink.
But there was also just something cool about the visual. In last year’s comment section, reader Tom L. once described it as “Like catching a comet in a butterfly net,” at which point he was immediately perma-banned for writing something better than I ever could.
I miss when a team’s three best forwards were on the top line
How it used to be: There was a time when a team’s first line was made up of its best center and its two best wingers. The second line was the next best center and next two best wingers. And not only did this not seem weird, we couldn’t even imagine a different way of doing it.
For the record, this wasn’t a hard and fast rule across the entire league, and you’d occasionally get guys playing higher up the lineup than you’d expect. (This was especially true when somebody like Dave Semenko would get to ride shotgun for Wayne Gretzky, just in case anyone needed to be taken for a canoe ride.) But occasional exceptions aside, it was pretty much the default setting.
That started to shift around the time the cap came in, as teams moved toward spreading their best players across three or even four lines. Often, that meant the top center would have one top winger who’d regularly play with him, and then a rotating cast of depth guys who’d fill out the third spot. Sometimes it clicked, and you’d even occasionally discovered a star-in-the-making like Zach Hyman this way. But loading up the team’s three best forwards on one line for an entire game? These days, it’s rare.
Why it changed: My guess is that two main factors came into play, both of which made balanced lineups more important. The first was the cap, and the parity it forced on the league. It’s one thing to put your three best forwards on the top line, and something else entirely when those are your only three good forwards. We also saw the game evolve to a much higher tempo than we saw back in the olden days, where players took longer shifts and rarely went full speed. With everyone mashing the turbo button at all times these days, you can’t play that top line for 25 or 30 minutes like you could before, so spreading out the offense becomes a priority.
Why I miss it: Because it was just cool to see all that talent on the ice at once, especially when teams matched top lines and there were six all-stars facing off against each other. And it was fun when your team acquired a star player and you’d start mentally shifting the lines around in your head, rather than finding out he’d been slotted in for third-line duty because the top line with the 12-goals-a-year plugger has too much chemistry to disrupt.
I miss when all the players wore the same light blue undershirts for some reason
How it used to be: I don’t know why or when it started, but when I was growing up, every NHL player wore the same light blue undershirt. (OK, yes, except for Rob Ray.)
If you looked closely, you could see them peaking out from beneath the jersey pretty much all the time. But you really got a good look under two sets of circumstances: Any time a player was interviewed in the dressing room, or whenever a guy got into a fight and had his jersey pulled off.
A significantly rarer third option that nonetheless helps illustrate our point: When players were forced to take part in intermission comedy sketches.
Why it changed: I have no idea, although I’m going to assume that somebody invented a better moisture-absorbing material that was lighter and/or more comfortable, and the modern generation adopted that because they are soft.
Relatedly, I have no idea when this changed. I know those shirts were everywhere in like 1993, and they’re not around now, but you could tell me that they disappeared gradually or in some specific year in between there and I would have no choice but to believe you.
Why I miss it: I have no idea. My brain may be broken.
I miss when referees would announce the result of goal review with a dramatic point
How it used to be: A goal would be scored, or maybe it wouldn’t, and nobody would be quite sure. So we’d go to replay review, which always worked great and everybody loved, to try to figure it out. That meant the referee would have to skate over to the penalty box area, where they’d try to hand him a beige phone with a comically long extension chord through a little hole in the glass, which was always peak comedy. He’d listen, somebody somewhere would watch a replay, and we’d all wait as the suspense mounted.
And then, the decision would arrive – at which point the ref would nod solemnly, return the phone, and then take a few confident strides toward center ice before either pointing to the faceoff dot (for a goal) or waving his arms (for no goal). It was emphatic, decisive, and the only way that made sense.
Why it changed: Because the NHL realized that the NFL had its officials actually announce their calls into microphones and thought, “Hey, I bet our guys could do that too.” Spoiler alert: No they could not.
Why I miss it: First are foremost, because today’s NHL microphones seldom work. And on the rare occasions that they do, every referee who isn’t Wes McCauley clearly hates having to do the announcement and rush through the entire thing like a scared third-grader getting his public speaking presentation out of the way. Half the time the crowd is just confused about what the ref is even trying to tell us, especially since a lot of these guys don’t know how to just get to the point and say goal or no goal. It’s a mess.
But even beyond that, the point-or-wave dynamic was just better. It was more dramatic. What’s that old saying when it comes to screenwriting, show don’t tell? The NHL was better when they’d show us with an emphatic motion instead of telling us with rambling expository dialog.
One bit of good news: Unlike just about all of the other items I complain about in this column, where there’s no reasonable path back to how it used to be, we could fix this one at any time. Just call up the referees union and tell them the broken mics are history, and we’re back to pointing. I’m pretty sure they’d be thrilled. All we’d need to do is provide a little bit of training to remind them how it’s done. Maybe Auston Matthews could volunteer.
I miss when cool moments were punctuated with flashbulbs going off
How it used to be: Some key moment would come along, especially around the net, and the darkened arena would explode with camera flashbulbs.
If you’ve ever wondered why those “ol’ hockey pictures” looked so cool, here’s how they did it:
I slowed down the Mahovlich goal from ‘72. You can see the flash bulbs mounted on the glass going off simultaneously to take the pic. The resulting pic is in the thread BELOW.. pic.twitter.com/VVXQK3ctn6
— Old Hockey Cards (@oldhockeycards) December 2, 2023
It was like a mini-fireworks show, one that you came to associate with “something very important just happened.”
Why it changed: I don’t know enough about photography to say for sure, but I’d assume that better camera technology is to blame here, as well as better lightning in arenas.
Why I miss it: Because flashbulbs automatically increase the drama of a given sports moment by roughly 300 percent.
This isn’t an NHL-specific issue, by the way. Other sports have also lost their bulbs, with nighttime baseball and football being especially affected. If you’re feeling generous with your definitions, it’s possible that no “sport” has suffered more here than pro wrestling. But hockey had its moment too, and I miss them. Photography was just better back then. With one notable exception.
I kind of miss when random fans would jump on the ice to celebrate with the players
How it used to be: You’d be sitting at home, watching your team win the Stanley Cup. The final buzzer would count down, and the bench would empty in an explosion of joy and relief, as the superstar forward and stud defenseman raced down the ice pile onto the starting goalie. And then you’d look up and Gord from accounting would be there too.
Why it changed: Because it was one of the stupidest things ever, and I can’t believe there was a time when we let this happen in pretty much every sport.
Why I miss it: I know I shouldn’t because it was dumb and also legitimately dangerous. It was also unfailingly hilarious, and it only gets funnier with time, since you get to enjoy those wonderful ’70s and ’80s fashions.
The whole thing is fascinating to me as an introvert who doesn’t enjoy making eye contact with my own children. I can’t get inside the head of somebody who sees their team celebrating a huge win and thinks, “You know what I bet would make this even better? Me. Hold my popcorn, I’ll be back in a bit…”
Today, anyone who tries to jump on the ice at the final horn would be immediately tackled, arrested, and barred from the arena for life. And for the record, I have no issue with that, other than we should do it to the glass-bangers too. But there was a weird time when we all just accepted it, and I kind of miss it.
(Top photo of Wayne Gretzky with the Stanley Cup: David E. Klutho /Sports Illustrated via Getty Images)
