My Sistine Chapel: Joe Louis Arena
View from my seat in the Joe Louis Arena press box
Standing in the underbody of Joe Louis Arena, I was almost lost for words. I’ve stood in Notre Dame, the Sistine Chapel, and New Westminister Abbey, but none of them dug the feelings I had walking through the Joe.
I started wondering where to go, feeling uncomfortable at the unfamiliarity of my surroundings. After all, this was my first time at the Joe as an official media, not simply a fan; but it only took me a minute to feel at home as I approached the ice. I stood there thinking about Steve Yzerman coming in for a breakaway goal, Sergei Federov and the Russian Five, and watching the Wings circle the ice with Cup in hand.
I’d never seen the Joe like this before.
But an ice surface is an ice surface. The same dimensions, the same players, all playing for a goal and a dream.
The underbody of Joe Louis Arena isn’t picturesque. It’s old, with cracks in the wall, mechanical rooms rumbling through the walls, and paint that is a different colour than it once was. It smells of fumes, stale food, and championships.
Many people stare up at the Sistine Chapel ceiling in awe of the beauty, the work of art, the hours put into its creation; but as a sports fan, I do the same in Joe Louis Arena. Stare up at the Stanley Cup banners, realize the hours that went into their creation, and the works of art that encompassed each goal leading to those championships.
On the walls in the press lounge there are clips from past championships, and in the chairs around the room, old media men tell stories of Gordie Howe, Sid Able, and Stevie Y. The pre-game banter is like every hockey fan’s fantasy, because they aren’t speculating, they’re speaking from experience.
As I made my way to the concourse, I realized something was different. It was quiet, except for the casual conversation of the employees. It wasn’t filled with excitement of fans cheering “Go Wings Go.” I had time to quietly read the walls, look at the statues, and step out again to see the ice.
It was only minutes until my privacy with the Joe would be robbed away, but it didn’t matter, I was a kid in a candy store. I was standing in my own Sistine Chapel. A place I had dreamed about many times before.
Never before had I seen the Joe, a sea of red and white, so empty. The game that night was a sellout, but right now, I was one of only a handful of people in the rink. I took a seat in the lower bowl, put my feet up, and stared around listening to the music on the sound system.
The press box stank like old popcorn and sweat. From where men used to scribble out anecdotes about Lindsay and Sawchuck, they now typed and Tweeted about Datsyuk and Lidstrom, instantly updating the world. The hallways leading to the press box reminded me of an old hotel. The tired decor reminded me of the Joe’s age.
In a few short years people will be saying goodbye to Joe Louis Arena, much like my father and grandfather left Olympia.
After the game I walked past the zamboni doors, and a group of fans hoping to meet the players as they exit the building, and I navigated my way into the dressing room area. This was the same place my hockey heroes sipped champagne from Lord Stanley. This was just another game, but I could almost hear the celebration.
Leaving Joe Louis Arena I felt slightly empty. The Red Wings had won, but the experience had been more than I expected. I had walked every inch of the arena, a place my dad had been taking me since I was five. He’d never taken me to the restricted hallways. In those seats with my dad, I’d dreamed about playing a game, now as an adult, I realize it’s just a building.
The Sistine Chapel is a building, a place where people come to worship, and are awestruck by the talent of Michelangelo’s achievement. For many, right or wrong, Joe Louis Arena is the same.
Joe Louis Arena, although dying, is still alive, still filled with memories, still filled with hope. Even if it isn’t shiny and filled with modern ammenities, it’s a war battered member of the Detroit Red Wings community. It’s a friend, a family member to many. It’s a Sistine Chapel, but one where the masterpiece, is still being completed.
Let the games begin