Hoe. Lee. Shit. Talk about a send off. That had to be one of the most energetic and action packed last place games in sports history. New Jersey, last place in the Metropolitan. Detroit, doing the last place no pants dance with the Buffalo piss-shit Sabres in the Atlantic, playing in the last game of the regular season. But none of that mattered yesterday at 19 Steve Yzerman Drive around 5pm.

Countless red carpets. Numerous Hall of Famers. A billion steps. 30+ octopi. 2 goals for someone who previously had none. And 1,000 games for number 40. All housed in one historic banner-filled hockey barn that we all simply know as- The Joe.

If there was anything in the world that last game at The Joe proved to us, it was that the Hockey God’s are real. They are more real than I ever could have imagined. With the passing of Gordie and Mr. I this year, coupled with the worst season in recent Red Wings history, this last game at our riverside championship coliseum had just about as much magic as you could have asked for.

Let’s start with the obvious- Z playing his 1,000th game, and it happening to line up with The Joe’s last game. That is one hockey coincidence that would give any fan at least a mild chub if not a raging hard on. Big, small, male, female, doesn’t matter. Our captain, who was by far and away the best player on the Wings this year, celebrating game 1,000 in the last game of the season is wild enough, then sprinkle in the emotional shut down of the arena he’s won two Stanley Cups and a Conn Smyth in and woah boy hootinanny that’s a good one. (I know they were in Pitt when he received the Conn Smyth, but like you get what I’m saying. Don’t be that way.) And it looked like it was going to completely finish in fairy tale fashion when he scored the third, and what looked like the final, goal of the game, until….

Riley mother fucking Sheahan decided to steal the show, and what a performance it was. Riley holy fucking shit Sheahan, the 21st overall pick in 2010 who had not scored a goal the ENTIRE 2016-2017 SEASON avoids history and buries not ONE but TWO geno’s in The Joe’s grand finale. The second, coming as the fourth and final goal, solidifying Riley’s place as a Red Wings trivia question for the rest of his life. Hey- we’ve all made fun of him, but you had to feel good for the guy, he had a gorilla the size of Harambe (dick’s out RIP) on his back and he was essentially able to act as a Cincinnati zoo employee and metaphorically kill him last night. Ken Daniels and Mickey Redmond sounded as if they were making the greatest sex of their lives together when Sheahan scored, and quite honestly with all the love going around last night- I wouldn’t have been surprised.

I have been going to Red Wings games at Joe Louis Arena for upwards of 20 years now and quite honestly- not much has changed about the place. The only real additions they have made is hanging banner after banner in the rafters year after year, but other than that not much is different, at least from the time I can remember going there from roughly 1995-present.

The stairs leading up to the front doors are still a colossal safety hazard and a borderline knee-buckling Cross Fit workout.

The scent of the building still strongly stings the nostrils with a mixture of dirty-wet peanut shells, stale beer, and glazed over body odor.

The troughs in the men’s bathroom still stand as many young boys coming of age test, the day they go shoulder to shoulder with a bunch of grizzled men and take a pee into one giant collective vat until it slowly makes its way to a foamy drain clogged by popcorn, dip spit, and Hockeytown napkins.

The shredded, car wash-like drapes that separate the concourse from the seating area are still the most ridiculous, poorly thought-out set up for a professional sports arena in the United States.

The music playlist of every single game still consists of roughly the same 40 tracks including Hit the Road Jack, I Believe in a Thing Called Love, Hey Song (Rock n Roll Part II), Woah Oh Oh, Raise a Little Hell, Living on a Prayer, Welcome to Detroit, It’s All Been Done, and Don’t Stop Believing…just to name a few.

The seats still have the variance of a Godiva chocolate box meaning that you have no idea what you’re going to get. Every seat is different. Some sink, some are stiff, some won’t close, some won’t open, some are ripped, some have vented covers, some don’t, and there is about 38 different shades of red covering the roughly 20 thousands chairs.

Those same seats, still don’t have cup holders.

And I still loved every minute of it.

Yzerman. Lidstrom. Bowman. Vladdy. McCarty. Maltby. Dino. Ozzie. Holmstrom. The list goes on and on and on and on. All to honor some undersized poorly designed arena built in 1979. But as many of you know, it’s not about what the place looked or smelled like- it was about what happened there and how it made you feel.

And for me- the memories are endless. Watching Sergei bury five goals in one game en route to 5-4 overtime victory over the Capitals in 1996. In 1997 watching the Wings absolutely thunder pump the heavily favored Philadelphia Flyers in game three en route to their first Stanley Cup in 41 seasons. In 1999, in game one of the first round vs the Anaheim MIGHTY (at the time) Ducks, Chris Osgood literally handed me his stick over the glass, and of course, I still have it. In 2002, last minute fill-in Yuri Slegr handed me a puck before game five of the Stanley Cup Finals, where I would eventually get to watch the likes of Hull, Hasek, Robitaille, and Chelios raise the cup in the heart of Downtown Detroit.

But the memory that really sticks with me, and will for the rest of my life is the 1996, double overtime 55-foot blast from my favorite athlete in the entire world that sent the Wings into the Western Conference finals. When Yzerman did that, my dad immediately bought me my first Red Wings jersey, a red number 19 with a big C on the left breast, and the next year I was registered to play organized ice hockey for the first time in my life. A sport that would grow to be my favorite activity in the world and something I will do until my knees or lungs give out.

It’s reasons like that why last nights celebration was so big, so long, and so emotional. So with one last cheers of a Molson XXX, one last twirl of a playoff towel, and one last run of Don’t Stop Believing, with tears in my eyes I say thank you. Thank you Joe Louis Arena for the countless memories you gave to me, my friends, and my family- I can’t wait to tell my kids about you, Joe. #lgrw #farewelltothejoe 🍾

– Frank