The Mystique of the Potvin Chant

By Paul Miller

Like many Rangers fans, last March I was very relieved when I learned that a deal had fallen through to bull-doze Madison Square Garden and build a new cookie-cutter arena a block over to replace the enormous Farley Post Office on 8th Ave. Instead, MSG will soon be renovated for the first time since the early ’90s. That’s probably a good thing as long as Junior Dolan does a better job with his toy than a then-young George Steinbrenner did with his treasure, the soon-to-be Late Yankee Stadium, back in the early/mid-70s.

I doubt that the nearly 30-years-running “Potvin Sucks!” chant would have disappeared in a new MSG. But it’s sure to continue indefinitely inside the charming, hockey puck-shaped monstrosity of a structure between 7th and 8th avenues…ah, can’t beat it…that’ll remain intact — refreshed and rejuvenated, but intact.

It’s easy to take for granted how the “Potvin Sucks” chant started if you’ve been a fan as long as I have (40 years). But I’m guessing that a good many wonder just why and how a good 30%-50% of fans will seemingly out of nowhere scream it out in the middle of a game. In fact, when the Daily Del Franco asked me to write this little ode, I was like “whatever for?” He reminded me there’s really nothing like the “Potvin” chant in sports.

First, a little background on the vulgar chant for those of you unclear or too young. It began not long after Islanders defensive legend Denis Potvin checked Rangers' star center Ulf Nilsson on Feb. 25, 1979, and broke his ankle. Nilsson missed the remainder of that season and although he returned for the playoffs, he only got into two games from the four series the Rangers played that year.

The incident is a reminder of an ugly moment. Rangers fans and players who were there that night have always contended it was a dirty hit (though I believe it went unpenalized); Islanders faithful claimed Nilsson got his skate caught on a chip in the ice that led to his taking an awkward fall following what they contended was a clean hit. (And the ice at MSG has, historically, been pretty awful, what with all the events that take place on top of it.)

But at the same time, it reminds all Rangers faithful of one of the team’s greatest moments: Less than three months later, they knocked off the heavily favored Islanders in the semi-final playoff series 4 games to 2, before eventually falling to the Canadiens, 4-1 in the Stanley Cup finals.

As for the chant itself, it gets started (and the crowd gets its cue) this way: First, it comes during a period of time during games when the action has slowed. A goal hasn’t been scored in awhile; the two teams are more or less wallowing around between the blue lines. Some of the less interested head for the snack bars for over-priced hot dogs and $4 Cokes. Then some fan usually starts it by whistling a famous college fight song, of which the name escapes me. I don’t know how anyone’s able to whistle loud enough for 18,200 people to hear it, but somehow somebody does. Then after the last three notes are blown, everybody shouts “Potvin Sucks!” And with rare exception, it’s quite loud — especially if the Rangers are leading at the time.

This isn’t only a Where else, but New York? sort of thing. It’s a Who else, but Rangers fans? thing as well. And it underscores the unforgettable experience of watching a Rangers game at MSG. I can’t make the judgment that it’s louder than anywhere else, because I’ve only seen hockey in about a half-dozen other NHL arenas. But the thing you do hear many Ranger players talk about regarding a home game is the knowledgeable fans. There’s no doubt we do know our game, our team, our arena and so on better than just about any other team’s fans. The noises we fans shout out have greater meaning than those shouted by other fans in other arenas and stadiums. If we boo, it’s for good reason, and not just for the hell of it.

Sure, there are plenty of slimy, beer-guzzling assholes in attendance at most games. But they know what they’re talking about when it comes to Rangers hockey. And even if they spill beer on my head, that’s a special thing to be a part of.

Paul Miller has lived and died with the New York Rangers more times than he cares to remember. This is his first piece for TDD.