Which brings us to last night and Patrick Kane's awkward goal in overtime and the Stanley Cup officially being awarded to the Chicago Blackhawks.  All the years of struggling, of taking a back seat to Michael and the Bulls, of the great sport of hockey being irrelevant in the nation's third largest metro area melted away the second the puck slithered through Michael Leighton's five hole and embedded itself in the padding in the side of the net.

The memories of game seven thrity-nine years ago vanished as well, the ghosts of Jean Bellevue and Henri Richard finally having been exorcised.

The list of heroes is huge, but at the top of the list is Rocky Wirtz.  He dared do all the right things his father refused to do.  He put the games on local TV.  He kicked Bob Pulford to the curb.  He hired people to run his organization that were smarter than him.  He brought back Bobby, Stash and Tony.  And he gave a crap about the fans.

The Hawks went from being an afterthought to a forethought in three years.  And most important, hockey, a sport that enjoyed huge popularity in Chicago in the 70's is now back. 

Rocky Wirtz has provided a change of culture that resulted in positive results.  And that those results can exceed your wildest expectations and dreams.  A culture that his father never understood, that you have to spend money to market your team, bring in good players, hire smart coaches and think in terms of a thirty team league, not a six team one.  In one quick millisecond, as the puck slid through Leighton's legs, the impossible dream became the accepted reality.  And while the players played the games and the coaches coached the games, the man who set the dominos in motion clearly deserves a shout out.

Somewhere, Tom Ricketts is taking notes.  Lots of notes.

During the last game of the San Jose series I saw a fan in the stands with a sign that said "Thank you Rocky."  I couldn't agree more.