Arena: Gila River Arena

Location: Glendale, Arizona

Game Attended: April 7, 2022 vs Vancouver Canucks

Game Result: A Second Consecutive 5-1 Canucks Win

Seat Location: Downstairs, Coyotes 2x End

Overall Impression: I Wonder How Long They Last in Arizona

The Arizona Coyotes have had a tricky and tumultuous history in the NHL. The team began play as the original incarnation of the Winnipeg Jets in the old World Hockey Association, and quickly found success in that league. The “old Jets” won the WHA’s Avco World Trophy three times, leading all teams in the league. By 1979, the WHA folded due to financial difficulties, and the “old Jets” joined the NHL along with the Edmonton Oilers, the Quebec Nordiques (now the Colorado Avalanche), and the New England Whalers (now the Carolina Hurricanes). 

But the “old Jets” struggled in the NHL as most of their star players left for other franchises and rising player salaries hit the small market team hard. Back in those days, there wasn’t a fixed salary cap; that would come only after the dreaded 2004-05 lockout. So the “old Jets” were purchased by Jerry Colangelo, the owner of the Phoenix Suns. And in 1996, Colangelo moved the Jets franchise to Phoenix and christened the new team the “Phoenix Coyotes”. 

And it’s been a largely disappointing existence since. The Yotes have only won one division title in 26 seasons in the desert. They’ve never made the Stanley Cup Finals. They’ve never had a 500-goal or 1,000-point scorer. In recent seasons, they’ve turned into a sort of a dumping ground for teams to offload overpriced contracts in exchange for draft picks which seemingly rarely work out in Arizona’s favor, save a few. 

To make matters worse, the team suffered such great financial losses in 2007 and 2008 that they declared bankruptcy, joining such “esteemed” victims of the financial crisis as Lehman Brothers, Bear Stearns, and Washington Mutual. Much like many banks of the crisis, the NHL deemed the Coyotes “too big to fail” and took ownership and control of the team’s finances from 2009-2013. During that span, the NHL thwarted many opportunities to move to the team to Winnipeg, Manitoba (the Atlanta Thrashers moved in 2011 and became the “new Jets”), Seattle, Washington (home of the NHL’s 32^nd team, the Kraken), and Hamilton, Ontario. 

And I have just one question: why were the Coyotes deemed to valuable to fail? It just seems like the franchise has sputtered in first gear like a run-down car that has no business being on the road. Being at a Coyotes game was a pretty sad experience honestly. The building was maybe 50% full, thanks in part to the many Vancouver fans who traveled south to see their team play. The building was devoid of any energy, passion, or unique characteristics that make hockey games exciting. 

It doesn’t help that the building is nowhere near Phoenix. It’s in Glendale, about a 25-minute drive northwest of downtown Phoenix. Gila River Arena is one of the marquee attractions of Glendale’s Westgate entertainment district, along with the Arizona Cardinals’ State Farm Stadium. And to be fair, Westgate actually seemed pretty lively and nice! We enjoyed a nice pregame brew (or three) and some soft pretzels at Westgate’s State Forty Eight Brewery. As a Philly guy who loves his soft pretzels, I have to give them a solid B+, and the beer was pretty tasty too! The complex even allowed you to net your $15 parking fee against your food/drink at any Westgate establishment, which was a great idea we took full advantage of!

And honestly, the building wasn’t that bad either. There’s not a ton of unique stuff in there, save a giant Shane Doan bobblehead and some local Arizona high school and college hockey jerseys, but it wasn’t too bad. Probably helped that the crowd was light to cut down on concession and restroom lines. 

But following the 2021-22 season, Gila River will no longer be the home of the Yotes. The team and the city of Glendale were unable to come to terms on a new lease for the arena, and so the city terminated the lease and essentially kicked the Coyotes out. The Yotes have since found a new temporary home at Arizona State University’s “New Multipurpose Arena”, a strangely desert-colored “box” of 5,000 seats. It still baffles my mind: a professional hockey franchise in the United States is going to play in a FIVE THOUSAND SEAT arena. I’d say I’m 20% looking forward to seeing the college-inspired “gong show” crowds, but I’m also 80% shocked and disappointed that an NHL team has to humble themselves to such a low standard. 

So again, I left the Yotes game wondering why the NHL allowed the team to remain alive and why they have seemingly obstructed all efforts to relocate the franchise. There have been rumors of a move for years, with places like Quebec City, Hamilton, Houston, and Kansas City leading the pack. Perhaps some day the NHL will cut its losses and allow the team to move for its own good. Perhaps some day the Yotes will rise like the Phoenix the city is named after to new heights in a gorgeous new building. Perhaps the team will hit on some great young draft picks and build a strong core of players and contend in the playoffs. But until then, I struggle to comprehend the viability of a hockey franchise in Arizona.

But this isn’t a sad story. It’s not an angry story. It’s not a story about failure or disappointment or whether or not a team should exist or not. This is a story about friendship. A friendship years in the making that much like the mythical bird for which Phoenix was named, rose from ashes to new great heights. 

In March 2010, I had the privilege of attending the National Youth Leadership Conference in Washington, D.C. Now in hindsight, the word “privilege” really meant that my wonderful parents had the privilege of spending their hard-earned money sending me to a weeklong educational “summer camp thingy” in D.C. During that week, I, along with a few hundred fellow high schoolers from all corners of the country learned concepts in leadership, communication, politics, and perhaps for some, how to smuggle drinks onto a river cruise on the Potomac underage. Cross my heart, I was not one of those fortunate smugglers. 

But fret not, Dan and Peggy, your hard-earned money did not go to (complete) waste. I left my week at NYLC with several important life lessons in my toolbelt. 

1. Gumby is a true American icon; the $7 Gumby figure from the Smithsonian’s Museum of American History was one of the best purchases of my life. Gumby resides in my hockey bag, and a pregame fist bump with our favorite green bendy hero always lifts my spirits.
2. The Smithsonian Air & Space Museum is still the coolest museum I’ve ever been to!
3. (And more seriously now) I learned the single best lesson of my life in a very innocent way. We were divided into groups of a dozen students or so for group projects and discussions at NYLC. Our group leader, Mike Burton, always encouraged us to “be bold”. It was written in our notebooks and on our group’s white board, and uttered daily in our discussions. It’s such a simple phrase, “Be bold”, but it carries such a gravitas that I will never forget it. It’s singlehandedly the best piece of advice I’ve ever received.
4. My career aspirations as a sports journalist ended that week. I’ve mentioned this before, but one of our activities “out on the town” at NYLC was a breakfast at the National Press Club with a panel of White House correspondents. I was an aspiring 16-year old journalists with big dreams and I was thrilled to meet the best and brightest in the business! Except for the fact that the best and brightest in the business were more concerned with their Blackberries and their Starbucks lattes than talking to a room of ambitious teenagers. We were permitted to ask these fine folks questions, and I froze in line when somebody asked the same question I had. Scrambling for another, I asked them to identify their most impactful stories or assignments in their careers. Three of the four answered with one word answers, “9/11”. The fourth kindly elaborated a bit more and detailed the impact of President Obama’s election and inauguration on our country. Still, the damage was done, my faith in journalism shot, and my desire to be a powerful journalist with an ego and a Blackberry destroyed. It would only take a passion project and 32 hockey games to restore that desire.
5. And bringing it back to Arizona, NYLC taught me that friendship matters more than almost anything in this world. Something innocent enough as college basketball can bring two people together that would otherwise have no business being friends. 

That’s where Ryan comes in. Ryan and I were assigned to the same NYLC group. He grew up in Lawrence, Kansas, home to the University of Kansas, and naturally, he’s a devoted Jayhawks basketball fan. During our time in D.C., we shared plenty of laughs and well-intended trash talking about whose team was better. Alas, we had to deal with an untimely NCAA tournament loss to Northern Iowa. I believe the name Ali Farokhmanesh still haunts Ryan to this day. 

In March 2010, at the end of a long but rewarding week (Gumby and all), Ryan and I parted ways. Over the next 12 years, we traded the random Facebook message about basketball or college or whatever. But we never crossed paths in person for those dozen years. But as I’ve learned many times over on this incredible tour, hockey is a sport best shared with friends old and new. 

And fate aligned the stars in a wonderful way. Ryan worked as the director of operations for the Arizona State University volleyball program. And with some gentle arm-twisting, I successfully convinced Ryan to join us on the 27th leg of the Tour de NHL. 

It was a remarkable few days: after 12 years, it seemed like only a few weeks had passed. Ryan was the same devoted Jayhawk, And unfortunately a recently crowned national champion at the expense of my beloved Tar Heels. But I’m not bitter about it, and even allowed Ryan a goofy photo of me in a Jayhawk costume. 

But we laughed. We enjoyed beers and pretzels at the brewery near the arena. We largely ignored a dreadful Coyotes game to just talk and catch up. We even got a round of golf in the following afternoon, and for the second time that week, Kansas “won”. The Kansas fan outscored the Carolina fan 105-75. It was a blowout!

But regardless of who won the hockey game or the golf match or whether Armando Bacot got hurt on a loose floorboard in the national championship game, I learned once again the true power of friendship. A chance encounter brought Ryan and I together as students. And because of this great hockey tour, we bridged a 12-year gap and became stronger friends. That’s pretty remarkable when you think about it.

So as I settled in for approximately 90 minutes of sleep on the red-eye flight back to North Carolina, I smiled. I smiled remembering how special this tour has been. I smiled remembering how cool NYLC was. I smiled because I realize once again that the results of these hockey games don’t matter in the grand scheme of life. Friendships and memories and adventures matter. Giving back and making a difference matter. Happiness matters. 

And yes, I even smiled that Ryan got to celebrate Kansas beating Carolina for their fourth basketball championship that week. I’m not bitter about it at all. 

Carolina still has six championships!