NEWSLETTER
I’m going to be completely honest right out of the gate. This is hard. Really hard. I’ve written goodbyes to every other player from the Blackhawks’ dynasty, from Niklas Hjalmarsson to Brent Seabrook, from Patrick Sharp to Patrick Kane.
Those weren’t easy.
This is hard.
See, in Chicago we are generally not allowed to have nice things.
Sometimes we’re gifted with nice things in some areas of the team but the puzzle incomplete. Ernie Banks never played a playoff game. Frank Thomas was hurt when the White Sox won the World Series. And the last time the Bears went to the Super Bowl, Peyton Manning was waiting for them.
When we do get nice things, they don’t last. With the exception of Michael Jordan’s dynasty — and even that was broken in half by his “baseball career” — the wins have been limited. The Bears win the Super Bowl and Jim McMahon gets broken the following season. The Bulls blow up their second three-peat. The Cubs win a World Series for the first time in 108 years and… the core is gone a few years later.
But most of the time, things just don’t go our way. When we get a top-three pick for a quarterback, we end up with Mitchell Trubisky — after a trade up. There have been more Cam Barkers and Kirby Dachs than Duncan Keiths. More Cedric Bensons than Walter Paytons. When we get a Derrick Rose, his legs fail him. For every Dennis Rodman there have been 50 Ron Mercers and Eddie Robinsons. For every Marian Hossa or Jon Lester there have been a hundred Martin Havlats and Milton Bradleys.
Hell, Andre Dawson was the MVP of the National League — on a last place team. Even great individual performances were wasted most of the time.
In 2006, the Blackhawks had the third pick in the NHL draft. There were a few people in that room that wanted Phil Kessel. But Dale Tallon held his ground and took a young man he thought he could build around.
Toews arrived in Chicago with the Blackhawks’ first-round pick the following summer, Patrick Kane, and everything changed. Almost immediately. Toews scored a goal on his first shift in the NHL. There was real excitement with the few of us who were following the team back then. After seeing him at the World Juniors and then a very limited amount at North Dakota, I bought in — literally. Season tickets were purchased. I was a believer, if even just faintly.
Because I’m a Chicago fan. I grew up here. I watched the Cubs in 1984 and 1989 and 1998 and 2003 already. I watched every Bears team since 1985 listen to a louder ovation for the guys from that team than the current edition. I watched the White Sox have maybe their best team in 80 years get cancelled by the strike.
I desperately wanted to believe the Blackhawks could win. But I grew up watching great players like Denis Savard and Steve Larmer and Jeremy Roenick and Chris Chelios and Ed Belfour all put up Hall of Fame caliber careers — and do a lot of their most significant winning elsewhere. I watched Chelios parade the Stanley Cup around Wrigley Field in a Red Wings jersey. I watched Larmer win it in New York and Savard in Montreal.
I knew better.
In my soul, I knew the Blackhawks wouldn’t win it all. But these young players were exciting, and I was happy to sign up for that at least.
When the Blackhawks announced they were putting the “C” on the chest of Toews’ sweater, it was surprising. After all, he was just 80 days past his 20th birthday. At that point in history, only Sidney Crosby and Vinny Lecavalier were named captains at a younger age.
Okay, the organization was buying what the young guys were selling. Show the fans. Show me.
Then the team made the playoffs in 2009 and rolled all the way to the Western Conference Final. There was some mettle in these kids. Some character. Some… “intestinal fortitude.” A little chutzpah, if you will.
I watched as Toews was the best forward for a Canadian team at the 2010 Winter Olympics in Vancouver — with Kane, Seabrook and Keith in the gold medal game. I was starting to think there was some pedigree in there. Now, he had a gold at the World Juniors, the World Championship and the Winter Olympics.
But there was still the comfort in the back of my Chicago sports fan mind that knew better. As long as the Red Wings played in Detroit, this wasn’t happening. But hey, maybe we’ll give them hell on the way out, right?
I was wrong. We were all wrong.
I was in the bar at Buffalo Wild Wings in Elmhurst when Gary Bettman handed the Stanley Cup to the captain of the Chicago Blackhawks for the first time in 49 years. Jonathan Toews, with his baby face and Hugh Jackman-as-Wolverine sideburns I MEAN playoff beard accepted it, and handed it to Marian Hossa. And tears rolled down my cheeks.
At that point in my life, the only other time I cried because of something professional sports related was when the camera caught Walter Payton on the bench, helmet in hands, knowing his career had come to a close.
But here we were. The Blackhawks had reached the top of the mountain with a bunch of kids that didn’t know they weren’t supposed to win because they played in Chicago.
I first spoke individually with Toews for a magazine cover story during the lockout in 2012. We talked back then — 11 years ago — about his battle coming back from and playing through concussions during the playoffs. He was 24 years old and already knew he was mortal, even if others who tried to win a faceoff against him had their doubts.
Players came and went over the following seasons, but seven remained for three championships.
Each one of the seven brought their own unique collection of skills and intangibles to the ice every night. But right smack in the middle of all of it was the Captain.
Now, the other six are done. Five of them are retired. One is in New York. And one remains wearing the most beautiful jersey in professional sports.
The Captain.
Jonathan Toews didn’t arrive with the hype of Patrick Kane; he spent a year at North Dakota after he got drafted. He didn’t arrive as an anointed savior like Crosby or Ovechkin had before him. He just showed up and went to work.
We aren’t usually allowed to have nice things as sports fans in Chicago. But Jonathan Toews defied that reality and then some. From the time he emerged on a balcony at the Blackhawks Convention wearing the C for the first time on July 18, 2008 until Thursday, April 13, 2023, he has been a marvelous leader and winner. And the longest tenured captain in the history of the franchise.
“Jonathan deserves this honor, he is a tremendous individual and a wonderful leader on and off the ice.”
That’s what then-GM Dale Tallon said when he placed the captaincy on Toews. And man was he ever right.
There’s still a sliver of hope in my heart that the Blackhawks will somehow wind up drafted one of the big centers this summer and Toews will work something out to be a mentor while taking a well-deserved final lap around the league. But his contract is up, and both sides of this equation have a hard decision to make.
What isn’t hard is the adoration that Toews has earned as the captain of the Chicago Blackhawks.
So…
On behalf of all of the fans who bought tickets between 2007 and 2023 — Thank You, Jonathan.
On behalf of all of the fans who bought jerseys — Blackhawks, Canada, North Dakota, Winter Classic, Stadium Series, with a Stanley Cup Champions patch or not — Thank You, Jonathan.
On behalf of the fans who met you in a hotel lobby or outside Johnny’s West after a summer workout and got an autograph or a picture or a handshake when you could have just rolled through with the windows up — Thank You, Jonathan.
On behalf of the media folks who have carved out a voice talking about the sport and team we love — or the sport that pays the bills — over the past 15 years — Thank You, Jonathan.
On behalf of the game of hockey, the way it should be played, the work ethic that you personified through the grind of injuries over the years — Thank You, Jonathan.
Thank you for being you. With your your wins and losses, your drive and compete and struggles with realizing your humanity, your dominance and your faults, Thank You.
Thank you for being the best.
