Is that subject line crass?  Of course. Is it coarse?  Yes. But it’s also deserved.

Bill Wirtz has finally shrugged off this mortal coil. Condolences to his family, but I’m going to be what some would consider insensitive and say “Hell, it’s about time!”

All you have when you leave this world is your reputation, and Bill Wirtz leaves behind a completely asstastic one–unless of course you’re one of the many Illinois legislators that the man bought to get laws passed in Illinois that favor Judge & Dolph, Ltd. (his liquor distribution concern). The only good thing that man ever did for hockey was try to get the NHLPA to take away David Frost’s agent certification after Mike Danton got arrested and the true nature of Frost’s evil was finally revealed for the world to see. Other than that, all he’s done is take an historic franchise (the Blackhawks) and singlehandedly run them into the dirt–and all for the sake of profit.

Home games during the regular season?  Not seen on TV until Bristol finally stood on their TV contract with the NHL and insisted that pressure be brought to bear on Wirtz to allow their cameras in the United Center–and even then Wirtz was grudging at best about it. After ONE home game, that was it–nothing except for playoffs (again, because of a league-wide contractual obligation).

(I can’t even believe I just defended Bristol. I must be getting old or something.)

How many good players had the Hawks lost because Wirtz didn’t want to pay them?  Jeremy Roenick, Chris Chelios, Dominik Hasek, Phil Esposito, and even Drunkie Belfour (back when he was good) come to mind immediately, but the list is longer than that. Steve Sullivan found himself traded to Nashville for a bag of pucks when he publicly hinted that Wirtz hadn’t given accurate information to the auditors that the NHL hired pre-Ragnarok. Stan Mikita and Bobby Hull want nothing at all to do with the team, because of the way Wirtz has roont it in pursuit of filthy lucre. All that man cared about was profit. He, like Boston’s Jeremy Jacobs, were (and in Jacobs’ case, still are) a blight upon the landscape–far more than any franchise south of the 40th Parallel, in my opinion. And I mourn the thought that the son will more than likely be no better than the father.

It’s at times like this when I wish I had a billion dollars, so I could buy that team and give those poor fans in Chicago so much better than they’ve gotten for the last 46 years. They deserve it. They so deserve it.

Good Riddance, Dollar Bill.