WHERE I WAS
It was a cold night if I remember right. I was waiting in a car for my wife as she was at a party for co-workers, a sort of Christmas, Hannukah, Kwanzaa and New Years shebang. The date was 12/28/1989.
As the North Stars and Blackhawks did their warm ups and skate, North Stars Shane Churla and Basil McCrae took a dislike and acted upon it towards the Chicago players. If there was a plan to attack the enemy team prior to the attack, I don't know, but what I do know is that while waiting for the pre-game, I heard a radio call of a dozen fights. It was really very exciting, however wrong it might have been.
I was waiting and waiting but my wife came out of the house where the party was before the game actually was able to start. As it was, the excitement of the many brawls had probably deflated any of the possible drama of the game.
If I disliked the Blackhawks prior to the game, and I did, what I did now was hate them. I hated them with a fire that could only be quenched by more fist fighting and slew footing. I wanted to see Basil McRae crush all of the Blackhawks, and Shane Churla douchenozzle the load of them into a waste bin and dump them out into a giant dumpster. I wanted the Blackhawks to die.
In other words, I was excited by the spectacle. For good or ill, I LIKED IT.