The Story of Sideways Sad Hank

 

How it should have looked

I'm fairly certain I've told this story before but it's worth repeating. (I did. Two years ago, but oh well)

I had, to be fair, a bit of a love/hate relationship with Henrik Lundqvist. For as great as he was -- and oh my he was -- I was hyper-critical of his play. 

To be clear, I got over it and see him much more positively than I did at one time.

He stood on his head at times, especially in the 2014 Stanley Cup Finals loss to the Los Angeles Kings.

No, I'm not going to post the series-winning goal here, which I remember watching at a Hampton Inn in Meriden, CT. It features a phenomenal call by Mike "Doc" Emrick but it's also fairly painful to watch.

But, burying the lead, nine years ago tonight I was at Madison Square Garden with media credentials for the Columbus Blue Jackets against the New York Rangers. Paul Silverfarb and I were in town to watch the Blueshirts against Greenwich's own Cam Atkinson.

Earlier that day, Mom went into the hospital to have a stent put in. She, my niece (happy birthday, Steph!), and my sister (it's not her birthday) went to Yale New Haven Hospital.

It was supposed to be routine and I was told to go to work. Mom knew I had the credentials and wanted me to go. 

"I'll be fine," she said. "Plus you're not great in hospitals."

She was right. I pace. I walk. I'll go somewhere else. I'll sleep. I'll read. I'll sit in the car.

Before you come at me with being a horrible son, let me assure you I more than did my share of taking care of Mom.

At the same time, in Dec of 2013, we were in the nascent days of HAN Radio/HAN Network so I was in New Canaan to prep for the four state football championships we were supposed to call. I also had to record a series of interviews for a football preview show that was due to run before we did the games.

Then Laura called me.

"Hey," she began, and I sensed it wasn't good. 

Mom was heading towards open heart surgery. Then stent would not be installed.

I asked what I needed to do. Was I needed in New Haven?

"No," she said. 

She added that she'd check with Mom but I had a feeling what the answer would be.

So I connected with Paul and told him. As I recall, he was the only one I told initially though my memory could be fuzzy.

He encouraged me to join him in New York City for the night. He knew that I'd only go home and worry or go to New Haven.

I also talked to Mom and, after I lovingly yelled at her, she also told me not to go to the hospital.

Paul and I went to the Garden and, in the days when funds were quite tight, I bit the bullet and paid to eat in the media center at MSG (the money goes to their wonderful Garden of Dreams charity). No, it's not outrageous to have to pay. In fact, it's common.

We went to our media table up on the Chase Bridge and watched the game.

If you're a Rangers fan it did not go well.

Keep in mind, though Paul and I are both Rangers fans, cheering is completely against the rules of a media credential.

But disgust would be the emotion of the night to an extent.

The Blue Jackets scored just 38 seconds into the game, with Atkinson receiving the primary assist on the Matt Calvert goal.

In fact, the Blue Jackets scored three times and that was enough for Lundqvist. The legendary goalie was pulled after giving up three goals on 13 shots in just over 11 minutes.

As the night was wrapping up and the game was ending, I pointed my iPhone at the monitor embedded in my workstation where the MSG-TV broadcast was on.

There was Lundqvist, with his head down and a baseball hat on looking like a man who allowed three goals on 13 shots in just over 11 minutes.

I snapped.

As Apple products do for some foolish reason, the picture rotated 90 degrees.

I looked at it. Most of the time that drives me nuts.

On this night nine years ago, I laughed.

I showed it to Paul. He laughed.

I posted it online and called it, of course, "SidewaysSadHank" though I'd sometimes just post it as #SadHank" in its corrected form.

Still, the sad version is definitively better.

We went to the locker room and caught up with Atkinson. It was nice that recognized both of us (as did Dave Maloney, the Rangers radio broadcaster who lives in Greenwich and whom I called a game with some 20 years ago). We chatted, got our sound, and said goodnight.

We also stopped into the Rangers' locker room. While you'd think the game was a blowout, it in truth was a 4-2 loss. 

Lundqvist sat at his locker and the message was clear: he wasn't talking.

I feel like we got sound from Brad Richards but, otherwise, Atkinson was the reason we were there since there was a local angle and Paul needed it for the Greenwich Post newspaper (RIP).

We went home.

I worked again the next day, putting together the radio show that had multiple elements to it, including my first interview with Christopher "Mad Dog" Russo. Marty Hersam, the "H" of "HAN" listened intently as we talked a little high school football. Russo tee'd me up about baseball history and I dug in.

Marty looked at me in shock. Instead, it took what had been a simple interview and added a little juice to it and I was extremely proud of that.

Still, my mother was having open heart surgery in New Haven. But I had this show as well as a game in New Britain. Then I was supposed to stay in New Britain and call three more games on Saturday.

But snow had other ideas. The CIAC elected to take the Darien/New Canaan title game and move it to Stamford. So we made our way to New Britain, called Ansonia's championship win (what a shock), and drove back to Stamford where Marty had moved my hotel reservation.

As we prepared to leave for New Britain, I finally let on about Mom. Marty was aghast.

"Go," he said. 

I told him there was really nothing I could do at that point and we made the commitment to call the game. The infant Hersam Acorn Radio was my baby.

I texted and called to check on Mom constantly.

I stayed Friday night in Stamford and did Darien vs. New Canaan the next day in heavy snow. Of course, she was on my mind all day.

The snow prohibited me from leaving Stamford. In fact, I even walked to a nearby Buffalo Wild Wings for dinner.

Sitting in my room that night, a friend reached out to talk as the snow pummeled outside. It's a conversation that I'll always recall.

Finally, on Sunday, I was able to get out and meet up with my sister and some of her kids. 

Mom was pleased when I walked into her hospital room.

For those thinking I was some kind of awful son, I came back to New Haven from Mahopac the next day and sat at the hospital all day. My editor wasn't thrilled at all but I felt it was my duty to be there and I would work remotely.

Marty supported me: "Family comes first."

Good thing, because Mom had a bad case of AFib not long before I walked in. I sat with her at times and sat in the lobby quite a bit also.

Otherwise, she was fine and through some rehab (not her strong suit) she was strong enough to come home after Christmas.

Oh, that's a whole different story.

This was the tale of a bad night for Henrik Lundqvist and a long, weird, active, and even scary weekend.

There's more but I can't tell you everything.

Can I?

I recognize Lundvqist now for being the legend he is and one of the most truly decent people in sports. He's also developed into a fine broadcaster.

But Sideways Sad Hank will live forever. A moment from a different time.