There's nothing like the confines of Yost; a trip down memory lane

DAVID KATZ/Daily

Michigan fans create the intense fervor that turns Yost Ice Arena from an old fieldhouse into the most vocal building on campus. The ambiance created at the Michigan hockey team's home cannot be replicated.

Four years ago I made my first visit to the old barn on South State Street. I'll be honest with you, I didn't know much about Michigan hockey or college hockey in general for that matter. Sure, I knew the Wolverines had won the National Championship the previous year - I had seen Brendan Morrison's goal in overtime against Colorado College in the championship, and Mike Legg's amazing circus goal against Minnesota in the Regional Final on TV.

But I had no idea what I would find under the archway and through the north doors of Yost Ice Arena that first night.

I approached the brick structure and wondered what I was doing. Some guys in my hall had said that hockey games at Yost were the best thing going in Ann Arbor, and almost on a whim I found myself dropping $80 or so for season tickets (about half of what you'd pay now).

It didn't take long though for me to figure out what all the talk was about.

Just minutes into my first game, visiting Ohio State was called for a penalty, and, as if somehow telepathically linked, everyone around me stood up and started waving their hands in unison at the banished Buckeye. I followed suit, and as he entered the penalty box we all yelled, "SEE YA!" But the words that followed took me completely by surprise.

"CHUMP, DICK, PUSS, DOOOOOUCHEBAG, ASSHOLE, PRICK, CHEATER!" (yes, I predate the now commonly used "BEOTCH, WILDFONG, BASTARD," et cetera).

Huh!? Now thoroughly amused, and intently focused on the game I watched as the Wolverines quickly scored on the powerplay - transforming the student section into an absolute mob scene, followed by a rousing chorus of...THE VICTORS.

Yost had me - hook, line and sinker.

The Wolverines went on to win that game, 7-2. Since then I've seen many memorable Michigan hockey games.

That 1996-97 team (which I will claim until my grave is still the best college hockey team I've ever seen) finished the season 35-4-4, with only two home blemishes - ties to Cornell and Lake Superior. The Wolverines would go on to demoralize opponents by scores like 13-1 and 11-1. They won the Great Lakes Invitational and the regular-season and tournament CCHA crowns, before falling to Boston University in the national semifinals.

The next year, without the services of Hobey Baker winner Brendan Morrison, they would go on to win a national championship.

On the way, they played in what ranks among the greatest single sporting events I've ever seen in person - a 4-3 victory over defending national champion North Dakota in the regional final. The atmosphere in Yost on that day can never be given justice by a writer, but the deafening sounds of the crowd after the Wolverines took the lead late in the third period are still described by Michigan coach Red Berenson as "the loudest I've ever heard Yost."

But of all the great teams, and through all of the great games, it is the experience of Yost itself that I will always remember.

Where else does the smell of new ice mixed with the stale and decaying aroma of food lost deep within the annals of the bleachers smell so good?

Where else is the word sieve used so often by so many people?

Where else does your mom call with so many unpleasant things to say?

Where else does a band play such an integral part in the game? And for that matter, where else is it a pre-requisite to be both a good dancer and a good conductor to lead the band?

Yost is a special place and on Saturday night I entered the old barn for my last game as a student here at Michigan - no longer as a fan, but as a reporter. I no longer cheer and go crazy when we score a goal (well, maybe a little tapping of the feet once in a while...) - I think Jaime Morris would probably throw me over the side of the press box if I did. But, I do appreciate the hockey on the ice, and college hockey in general.

And Yost has taught me that.

After the game on Saturday I stuck around Yost for awhile. I stood over the balcony and looked across the ice.

I remembered that game against North Dakota, that announcement that Charles Woodson won the Heisman Trophy, that record setting victory by Marty Turco and those banners being raised. I remembered the first time I stepped in the doors of Yost, and wished I could do it all over again.

- Chris Grandstaff can be reached at cgrandst@umich.edu.

The Grand

Scheme

Chris Grandstaff