A War Memorial

Operating a blog is pretty easy. Operating a successful blog is altogether different. One of the key tasks to achieving success in the blogosphere is maintaining a core group of loyal readers. By personal experiences, I can say that this core starts out with one's friends. It's probably no different than many sales related positions; ask any successful insurance or vacuum cleaner salesman, and he or she will tell you how their first target group of clients were friends and family.

I am certainly not above this technique, as my most honored readers also hail from my circle of friends and family. Two notable friends, MP and A Dawg, as true Pittsburghers, have dazzled me over the years with their tales of following the Penguins during their youth. Perhaps the forgettable "pre-Mario" years, in which Pittsburgh hockey was pretty darn unknown anywhere east of Monroeville. Sure, everyone knew about the Steelers and Bucs, but when it came to hockey, us turnpike guys didn't know much, and cared even less. Although I can remember listening to some mid 80's Pens' games via the radio, and broadcaster extraordinaire, Mike Lange, my memories of that era are somewhat limited. My Penguins interest grew after 1984, like so many of us from outside the Steel City. Besides Mario, one of my first Penguins heroes was #44, Robbie Brown. A great shooter, but possibly the slowest skater on the planet.

Growing up outside of Johnstown, Pa, the world of the old Penguins was still somewhat distant, and honestly, unremarkable to me. I do, however, have professional hockey memories of my own...The Johnstown Jets. As I read today that the current Johnstown franchise, the Chiefs, were closing shop and moving South, I once again felt a certain piece of my youth slipping away.

Johnstown is a city of some dubious distinctions. Obviously, when a town's moniker is the "Flood City", it probably suggests that better vacation options are available. The Johnstown Jets/Wings/Red Wings/Chiefs legacy is one that the Flood City can stake a claim of pride with, and is definitely a piece of my family's western PA history. For those that may not know this, the movie Slapshot was filmed in Johnstown, and the fictitious Charlestown Chiefs were based on the mid 70's Johnstown Jets. The fabled Hanson Brothers were real dudes who were based on, and played by, the Carlson Brothers, all real players, who at one time laced it up for the Jets. A footnote will also state that one of the movie Hansons was actually played by Dave Hanson, also a real player and one of the few former Jets to see NHL ice time.

It wouldn't be right if I didn't point out that my very own mother, Marge Watterson, also starred in Slapshot. Ok, well maybe not star, per se, but she did show up every night as an extra in the arena scenes, shot in the Johnstown War Memorial, a drafty old oval barn with that permanently entrenched aromatic blend of beer and urine. The War Memorial was everything you'd expect in a minor league hockey venue circa 1977, and it made the Igloo look classier than PNC Park. At the time, my mom, like every other red blooded American woman, had a thing for Paul Newman, and hell, every extra in attandance was rewarded with free hot dogs and cocoa. The cocoa was a necessity because on any given January evening, the indoor temperature in the War Memorial hovered around 43 degrees, with a slight westerly breeze. Anyone who logged frigid nights at the War Memorial is more than prepared to sit in the Heinz Field stands for next year's Winter Classic.

Another shout to my brother Wayne, who adorned his bedroom door with a Jets 1974-75 Lockhart Cup Champion decal. That decal is still on the door. The Jets generally sucked, but they did win that cup.

So maybe I can't boast of riding my bicycle to Penguins' games. Maybe I don't own anything from the blue and gold era. Nope, I can't tell you much about Rick Kehoe. I can, however, say that I have a little hockey lore of my own. Of course, until today, when I read the news of the demise of another Johnstown hockey team. Until the next J-Town franchise rises, I leave you with this nugget from the greatest hockey movie of all time. Matt Cooke eat your heart out...