Puckarinen

One from the archives:

The first Winter Classic between the Buffalo Sabres and the Pittsburgh Penguins was such a great success, and such a marketing kick for the sport, that it’s no wonder there will be a sequel to that. And this time there’s reason to believe that the sequel might even out-do the original.

Come on, the Blackhawks take on the Red Wings at Wrigley Field? The air will be so thick of ghosts of sports legends past – and the ice of stars of today – that the sun won’t shine through it. The rivalry between the teams is so great that the Winter Classic II is bound to be a wonderful event.

But when it’s time, the third installment of the Winter Classic – the WCIII – it won’t be easy to take it up a notch again. There are only so many classic teams and classic venues, even in America.

In my mind, I can see a real classic – a true battle, a cold war, if you will – where there’s more at stake than just decent ratings on network television and where retro jerseys won’t be the only thing that makes people talk. Everything must be upped: the rivalry, the venue, the whole meaning of the game.

I’m talking about a cold, cold game between the NHL All-Stars and the Russian Kontinentalnaya Hokkeynaya Liga (KHL) All-Stars. At stake: world domination. Winner takes all.

Loser gets Alexander Radulov.

The Russian league has made a lot of noise recently, signing Jaromir Jagr and Ray Emery, and fighting the NHL for other free agents – and even some agents that are not so free. There’s been a lot of talk about money, control, and power. Meetings have been held, blogs have been written, and press releases have been sent.

A Winter Classic is the best way to settle the score.

I see beautiful retro sweaters. The NHL is wearing orange, and the KHL is wearing black. All black, from head to toe. The NHLers have mullets.

I see a European sized rink.

Because I see that the venue is in Russia.

My vision carries me over the Atlantic, over Europe, over Moscow, high over the Red Square because the WCIII will be played in Siberia. Of course.

I see a pond. No, the vision gets clearer. It’s not a pond, it’s Lake Baikal, the world’s biggest, deepest, and oldest lake.

I see the best players in the world circling in their own zones, eyeballing each other when they meet at center ice.

I see Bobby Hull dropping the puck in the ceremonial face-off. (I can also totally see Bobby Hull as the commissioner of the KHL, but that’s another vision).

I see nobody in the stands.

I see that there are no stands because, hey, this is Siberia, after all. (But I do see a Starbucks).

I see people gathering outside appliance stores on the streets of Helsinki, Stockholm, Moscow, New York, Prague, Bratislava, Washington, DC, Chicago, Detroit, Toronto, Ottawa, Nashville, Barcelona, Rio de Janeiro, Bangkok, and Sydney. No, not Nashville. Anyway, they’re all watching the game nervously, and bonding.

I see Alexander Medvedev, the KHL president, sitting on the KHL bench, with a white cat in his lap.

And I see the referee: It’s Rene Fasel, the renaissance man from Switzerland, a former referee and a former dentist, and the current long-time president of the International Ice Hockey Federation.

But first, the Red Wings and the Blackhawks at Wrigley Field. That’s going to be good, too.