The tale of the Detroit Red Wings is a miniature epic in the Motor City and North American culture. And it’s so much more than a mere professional hockey franchise. You can call it a Western drama on skates, built with belief, ambition, and maybe a stirring rebirth should the Yzerplan finally transform this team’s current epoch of decadence into a playoff berth.
For a student of the sport, the Wings (and their former division rival, the Chicago Blackhawks) offer one revealing lens. A franchise whose evolution over the past century (can you believe it?) led it to model status across the NHL - 11 Stanley Cups, all-time greats like Gordie Howe and Steve Yzerman, six Presidents’ Trophies (they matter), and countless division championships.
You can even argue the Wings evolution from humble beginnings during the Roaring Twenties mirrored those of great institutions. That heroic ascent, and golden eras that fans who weren’t even around to see them somehow remember. But, eventually, an infamous descent into more than just chaos.
The last great Age of Conviction
There was a time, in the not-so-distant past, that the winged wheel was a mandate for greatness. I was in high school when the Wings got the best of the Pittsburgh Penguins to win that 11th Cup, and they looked entrenched as the team I’ve always known. A model of consistency throughout more than just the NHL.
Looking back on those Red Wings teams, especially the squads in the 1990s and 2000s when I was around to witness such greatness, was comparable to seeing the greatest civilizations in human history at their peaks.
Yzerman was the serene prince, Lidstrom the quiet general. You can go on and on here, throughout the ages of some of these great Red Wings teams. Especially if you’re an older fan.
The Wings upheld an ethic throughout that epoch. Values rooted deep in a culture built across those first eight and a half decades. So much, that you could even equate the Red Wings to Rome during its heyday, complete with Vienna’s precision, and Sparta’s relentless resolve.
The drift into the Epoch of Decadence
Great franchises like Detroit have fallen not through fire, but forgetting. It’s something we’re also seeing with the neighboring Chicago Blackhawks, and this is only the NHL we’re talking about.
Icons retired one by one, and new faces succeeded them. But this succession wasn’t the same as inheritance. Sure, you can hand down sweaters, banners, and rituals. But conviction? It’s either reforged or it dies.
Since the late 2010s, the Red Wings decayed into a franchise in name only. They still skated out and played in front of a loyal fanbase every night, but they’ve lost more than they won over these last nine years.
The once-powerful winged wheel associated with winning is now associated with an endless playoff drought. This current epoch’s language told the tale of patience, lottery odds, and metrics and spreadsheets in inverse proportion to passion, intuition, and logic. Slowly shuffling a chart, or charts, with no meaningful destination.
Flatness, more than anything, has defined the current epoch. On the ice, the Wings go through the same motions they have for going on 100 years - but they lost their way in doing so.
The winged wheel remains an iconic logo for sure, but its creed has decayed.
A renewed hope?
Decadence doesn’t mean final. Far from it. Sometimes, it’s nothing more than a prelude to a new dawn. The Yzerplan may not have led to a playoff berth yet, but you can’t deny there’s a rekindling belief in the place known as Hockeytown.
Nine years have gone by since the Red Wings last playoff appearance as they steamroll into Year 100. But that core of Dylan Larkin, Lucas Raymond, Moritz Seider, and Alex DeBrincat, to name a few of them, are potential carriers of ethos.
Maybe they’ll remember what the winged wheel used to mean and demand it return to that meaning. And with free agency signaling yet another new dawn, maybe a few incoming faces will meet those same demands.
Here’s to a successful 100th season, Detroit.
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