Guest post: Rocket's Red Glare -- A new weekly feature on the NHL

We put out the bat call for potential new commenter features a little while back in Marthaler's Q+A. As such, we introduce to you the first (of hopefully a few) new additions to the RandBall family. Commenter Rocket, who is a big hockey fan, will keep you up to date with meandering thoughts on the NHL. Here is the first installment of Rocket's Red Glare. (Sorry about initially posting this lower in the blog. It was a weird thing that has to do with saving it as a draft. Not interesting. The downside is we had to re-post it, and all comments were lost):

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It has come to my attention that the citizenry of RandBalltopia has respectfully yet forcefully made its desire for a regular hockey post known to the sovereign. I have also come to learn that a select few of the prominent citizens have expressed a desire that I author said post. While humbled by the request, I must admit that I have grave doubts that I am the raconteur for the job for one simple yet daunting reason.

I'm not really sure that I am a fan of the Minnesota Wild.

Allow me to explain myself. First, like RandBall, I grew up in Grand Forks, ND. The NHL options back in our youth were somewhat remote, often bad, and eventually nonexistent. The closest team was the Winnipeg Jets, who were about as ineffectual as Stu without his Spin magazines. The next closest team was, of course, the North Stars. The Stars certainly had their moments (and some great uniforms) with those two Stanley Cup runs. But those high points looked even more impossibly high from the very deep valleys where the team usually resided.* Both left the upper Midwest in the mid-90s to more shrugs than anything else in Grand Forks. The real game in town was, as you might imagine, college hockey, and it felt much the same way when I moved to the cities around that time as well. I love watching the NHL – especially the playoffs – but hockey is the one sport where I might prefer the college game to the pros.

Second, the Wild came into existence just a little too late into my own existence to earn my unconditional affection. I was a college graduate by the time the Wild played their first ever game on Oct. 6, 2000. As such, the Wild were at least a dozen years late to really hit the sweet spot when it came to capturing my imagination. For comparisons sake, I think that we can all agree that this has been not just a deeply disappointing season for the Minnesota Vikings, but a historically comical travesty. There is no way anyone reading this blog (with the exception of Jama) is going to look back on this year with anything other than cringe-inducing irksomeness. Despite all of the remarkable absurdity, my eight-year-old nephew has started watching and following and loving the Vikings in a way that I can only barely remember. He is at the age where it doesn't matter what the team does; I am not. I was and certainly am glad that Minnesota once again has an NHL team, but I am not at a place where the mere presence of the team is enough to ignite my passion. Couple that with an often forgettable decade on the ice, and I simply cannot say that I care for the Wild in the same way that I do for the Vikings and the Twins.

Third, the fates, haughty whimsies that they are, have conspired to turn my eye to another. I am not an unfaithful man, and my heart still lies in the upper Midwest, but I am just a man and I suffer temptations like any other. While I feel a strong sense of propriety to remain loyal to my roots and my teams there is a Southern belle just down the road who is whispering sweet nothings into my ear. I find myself ever more wanting to listen to those enticing words.

Let me be a bit more direct: Life has left me in a position where the nearest team to me geographically is the Carolina Hurricanes. While the Canes are hardly the gold standard for NHL franchises, I can't help but find them more intriguing than the Wild. They have a more seasoned coach who has had some success in the playoffs. They have better top end talent and better goaltending. Their future is brighter and, quite frankly, so is their past. Tickets are much more accessible in Raleigh then they will ever be in St. Paul. While hardly the biggest show in town, the team does have a dedicated, hard-core fan base that really cares. Finally, they are underdogs in their own division (recent struggles aside, the Caps are still the cream of the Southeast Division crop), in their sport (they are not winning the Cup this year) and even in their region (college basketball is the king); in short, they are just the kind of team that a Midwesterner can love.

So, there you have it. It is up to you, the RandBallaholics, to decide if you want someone whose loyalty to the Wild is waning to write the weekly hockey post. But before you make up your mind you should honestly ask yourself one question: How much do I love the Wild? Your answer might surprise you.

*Even the good was often bad. Take a look back at the 90-91 Stanley Cup season. That was a putrid team that had absolutely no business making the playoffs, let alone the Cup finals. They only won 27 games that year. Twenty-freakin'-seven wins for a team in the finals! They finished fourth in the chronically terrible Norris Division with 68 points. To further illustrate just how awful they were take a look at the inaugural season for the Wild. The expansion Wild had just two fewer wins than the 90-91 Stars and the same point total. The Stars were barely better than a team in its first year of existence! I'll never forget the fun that was that magical playoff run, but there is no doubt that the Stars, had they beaten Pittsburgh, would have easily been the worst team ever to win the Stanley Cup.