Utah gets its first taste of NHL hockey culture by defeating the Chicago Blackhawks

On June 9, 1979, the Salt Lake Tribune announced to our residents the arrival of the NBA.

“Now We Have Jazz,” read the front-page headline.

But I'm not sure we had any idea what we were doing (at least not from a grammatical perspective) or what jazz would mean for the state.

This week in Utah we opened a new chapter in the sport. And just like when the Jazz first came along, there will be a significant portion of Utahns who don't really know what this whole thing is about.

Sometimes this can also include the team’s operators.

“There are just times when, especially in hockey, we learn a lot as we go,” team owner Ashley Smith said.

The Jazz's learning curve was certainly steep when they moved here 45 years ago. It took five years for the team to reach the playoffs in Utah; The number of spectators was now on average less than 10,000 fans per game. It is clear that the Utah Hockey Club is in a better competitive and financial position today than the Jazz were back then.

But there is a difference between surviving and thriving—a difference between simply existing in a community and becoming rooted in it.

This is the path that jazz took in the 80s and 90s. To make this leap, jazz needed ambassadors to bring the game to a wider audience. Frank Layden, who played the entertaining role of promoter from the head coach's chair, also knew this. It also needed hardcore fans who insisted on their own culture – like those who played instruments in the jazz band that angered their opponents in the early days of the Salt Palace.

This path is now the one the hockey club must take in order to truly mean something to Utahns.

Certainly the first steps in that direction were shown on Tuesday in an opening game that achieved the self-evident historical significance that the Smiths had hoped for. The first TV interview of the day took place at 4:45 p.m. on the ice at the Delta Center, while coach André Tourigny's post-game press conference did not take place until 11:30 p.m.

In between:

• NHL Commissioner Gary Bettman and the Smiths spoke outside the arena at noon in an unusual news conference attended by dozens of local politicians. It was also open to cheering fans. The theme: Thanks to those who worked hard to make this event possible. Commissioner Bettman congratulated the mayors of “Salt Lake City County and Salt Lake City itself,” the President of the Senate, and Smith Entertainment Group. Unusually for Bettman, who is traditionally booed by every other fan base in the league, the commissioner received cheers for helping bring the NHL to Utah.

• At 2 p.m., ESPN's national broadcast of the NHL show began right outside the arena, with the new Utah Hockey Club puck statue, the Jazz Note statue and the mountains as the backdrop. His hosts, including hockey legends Mark Messier and PK Subban, missed no opportunity to point out the parallels between the Hockey Club's first game against the Chicago Blackhawks and the Jazz's NBA Finals series against the Chicago Bulls.

• Some of the team's players walked a blue carpet into the Delta Center around 5 p.m. after being dropped off at the corner of 300 West and South Temple, where five or six rows of fans greeted them for their first game.

• The Utah Department of Transportation closed 300 West due to a fan festival and concert on the street. Shaboozey's “A Bar Song (Tipsy)” was the No. 1 song in America for 13 weeks this year; He sang it three times in a 30-minute window. In his defense, at least two of them were intended for viewers on national television. Later, this stage became the television for a viewing party for 1,000 to 2,000 fans who did not have tickets to the game but wanted to come to the event; 16,020 spectators attended the game.

• Jazz star forward Lauri Markkanen – a gifted skater thanks to his native Finland – brought out the game's commemorative puck in a nod to the Jazz fan base in the building.

Then the real puck dropped.

Chants of “Let’s Go Utah” (clap, clap, clap, clap) sounded immediately and was repeated at least twice per period. More signs followed that Utah fans were really getting into the action: the desperate oohs and ahs at scoring chances, the rallying towels that followed the goals, the saying of the names “Spicy Tuna” and “Durzi” when both were more came into play as their fair share of turmoil.

Lines even grew from an expanded team store at the Delta Center as fans rushed to get their hands on merchandise. The team's only preseason game at the arena earned the team $160,000 in revenue from merchandise sales alone, ranking second in Delta Center history for a single night; The regular season opener undoubtedly exceeded that number.

But perhaps there was no more important sign of passionate fan engagement than a moment of downtime in front of the Jumbotron camera as two friends poured their $15 beers into their shoe and chugged out of it. That moment, more than any other, was the one that earned Utah's audience the respect of national hockey fans on social media. Of course the 5-2 win also helped.

The truth is, hockey in the States has always been something of a counterculture sport – certainly open to all, but perhaps not always embraced by the cool kids. Below the line, it has always been a small underdog of a sport, the smallest of America's Big 4.

Ice hockey fans therefore tend to be somewhat die-hard.

When that grand opening day came, Utah's big power players — the Smiths, the politicians, even UDOT — tried to spread this moment to as wide an audience as possible.

For hockey fans in Utah, it meant just as much, or perhaps even more. These are the people who have largely kept a low profile for decades, spending their time at the Maverik Center or in their own homes and simply devoting themselves to the sport they love. It will be these fans who will serve as the hockey club's hardcore base – perhaps less bluesy than the early jazz fans, but a little more shy.

The first group now includes the Utah Hockey Club.

But for those who really wanted it? Now there is hockey.

To their credit, Tuesday's events resonated with both.

May this root continue to grow in the decades to come.