The New NHL: Tinker Toy?

This delightful news story about another proposed change in the NHL had me thinking, and hearkening back to the day when my favorite game wasn't so changeable.

Is it possible it could all be traced back to the expansion into "markets" that weren't typically thought of as hockey-hotbeds, such as San Jose, Anaheim, Miami, and Tampa Bay?

Then, there was the strike of 1992 and the lock-out of 1994. Accompanying these was the dumbing down of the division and conference names. Bye bye Prince of Wales and Clarence Cambpell. So long James Norris, Sr. and Conn Smythe. It's been fun Charles Francis Adams and Lester Patrick. You were apparently not THAT important, after all.

But that's not all....drastic changes to the rulebook were implemented as a part of the nearly apocalyptic work stoppage that caused an entire season to be lost.

Then the uniforms. Ah yes, those sacred sweaters that carry the identification of years of history and the sweat, blood, and effort of countless hockey heroes. Yes, they're going to be redesigned. And the only thing we know, at this point, is that they're going to be tight. And futuristic. Kind of a hockeyfied version of this, I fear. Ugh.

This is a great article discussing changes that could be made to make the NHL better. Interestingly, many of these changes would take the NHL back to the good days of yore.

Thing is, once you start tinkering with something, where does it stop? I don't see NEARLY the rule changes and such in other sports, and the other 3 in the "Big 4" of professional sports are much more stable. It just seems that everyone has an opinion about what would make the NHL better, and it really has to stop. It's getting so that those of us who were around before the Sharks' teal blue sweater graced the NHL's lovely rinks don't even recognize our game. It's all quite a slap in the face of long-time fans who loved the intricacies of the game, and are getting left by the roadside in an effort to appeal to a new "market" that is likely as loyal in its sports interests as a trampy secretary is to her latest fling.

Who can we blame for all of this? I think it lies squarely at the feet of the Wee Slick One (pictured at the start). Shame on you, sir.