CALGARY, Alberta — The Germans are famous for squishing words together to form useful new compounds. But Calgarians perfected the art when they came up with "Saddledome." You look at it, and you say, Yup, that's a Saddledome. The building occupied by the Flames since 1983 is unlike any other in the NHL. Even from a distance at night, the curved red line that lights up the Saddledome's profile makes it unmistakable. The world's largest cowboy could straddle that roof and feel right at home.
If you consider the $1 billion renovation of Madison Square Garden the de facto creation of a brand-new building (and I will), the Flames have played in the Saddledome for a decade longer than any other NHL team has called their respective rink home. As someone who gets nostalgic about old arenas, loves Canadian hockey, and had never been to Alberta before, I'd known for a long time that I wanted to catch a game under its iconic parabola before it closes for good next year. Since time was starting to run short on that dream, after a delightful 48 hours in Calgary (I saw Les Mis!), I climaxed my visit with Senators-Flames. It might have been a low point for the franchise, but not for me.
Certain people (N. Murray Edwards) have been trying to bump off the Saddledome for over 10 years, and when the Flames drop the puck on the 2027–28 season, it'll be in a new arena—at the cost of hundreds of millions of dollars contributed by the city, the province, and their taxpayers. You can see the bones of the new building right next door, and when you walk south from downtown to a game, the construction site looms over the ol' saddle. The trick of perspective can't help but feel threatening. You will be destroyed because of me.
This new venue is not shaped like a saddle, and has neither Saddle nor Dome in its name. Instead, it will officially be a generic Scotia Place, courtesy of one of the three or so companies that sponsor Canadian buildings. Whereas the Saddledome has the whimsical charm of a Claes Oldenburg and Coosje van Bruggen sculpture, the Place projects to be just another mall surrounding a hockey rink. You can tell, because the most specific compliment that Gary Bettman was able to give it this week was that "it has more bathrooms."
I'm sure it's obvious by now that I came to the Saddledome ready to defend it. I grew up going to Red Wings games at Joe Louis Arena—traversing dark and dank concrete concourses before stepping through a curtain into a frozen wonderland. There are nice things I can say about its replacement, notwithstanding the pizza-company logo tattooed on its roof. But I miss the old barn, too. I know these places don't last forever, and that sports owners are incentivized to chase taxpayer-funded upgrades, so see 'em while you can.
I didn't feel like I was stepping into the past when I entered the Saddledome, however. Putting on my slightly rose-colored glasses, and ignoring what its detractors have to say about its insufficiency as a concert venue, I saw a hockey arena that I think could give its patrons fine times into the 2030s. It's definitely different than the "Apple designed a rink" feel that I get at an Islanders game (the league's most recent new arena to open), and I have zero complaints. The concourses are indeed concrete-forward, with some low ceilings and some narrow spots; I'd nevertheless rather exit the Saddle over MSG's winding stopped-escalator tower any day. The food options are not as varied as you might find in the shinier Centres and Places; still, I got what I wanted in the Saddledome's beloved Pocket Dawg, which is a hot dog stuffed inside a hole in half a baguette, filled with whatever condiments you'd like. My Dawg eventually burst out of the bottom of its Pocket, but I would not discourage anyone from trying it. (The day before, I enjoyed a "Hogzilla" at the Big Cheese Poutinerie. Calgary is a world-class dining destination.)
Old arenas are often derided for their sightlines, but I absolutely loved my view seven rows from the top of the upper deck. I was satisfied with the leg room, I could see over the people in front of me without being made dizzy by a steep incline, and it was a joy counting all the quirks as I swiveled my head around the space. There's the notorious above-ice catwalk between the press boxes, which exposes fraidy-cat beat writers and broadcasters. (The Flames denied my request to walk it before this game.) There are limited graphics on a modest-sized scoreboard. There's an upper level that's significantly larger than the lower bowl, and includes a couple of weird corners where the 200s aggressively encroach on the 100s. And there are the bargain nosebleeds in the saddle's pommel and cantle, basically invisible unless you're looking hard for them. I don't think they'll have a section like that when the Flames dismount and walk to the Place.
Ideally, a franchise wants to move into a more luxurious venue when it's on an upswing, for symbolic and balance-sheet purposes. Despite their name, the Flames are the opposite of hot. The mood around this club is rueful at best, bitter at worst. A 6-1 loss to the Stars on Tuesday, followed by the MacKenzie Weegar trade that makes the team ... weakar in the short term, dropped the temperature even lower. Disappointments since the Cup win in '89 are too numerous to catalog here, but if the Flames were going to find any glory this decade, it probably would have been in 2022, when a monster of a top line helped lead them to 111 points, only for the team to get crunched in a demolition derby of a second-round series against [grrrrr] Edmonton. Johnny Gaudreau and Matthew Tkachuk both elected to leave Calgary that summer, and the team's attempts to replace their production have flopped; their top goalscorer this year, Matthew Coronato, is tied for 127th in the league. The Flames haven't made the playoffs since that Edmonton series, and the team's best bet now is to pray that their draft picks turn out to be quick studies. The guy who got on the 'Tron on Thursday with a homemade "Keep Calm And Tank On" shirt probably represented the views of a lot of fans.
I like to think I'm an expert on what it feels like when a building becomes apathetic to its tenant, because I was once at a Brooklyn Islanders game where a period got delayed when the lights refused to turn back on. I was a little worried that the Saddledome was electing to check out early when the pregame hullabaloo was so lackluster that I was literally caught by surprise when the home team took the ice at the top of the hour. That's not what this was, though. The seats were packed with folks in red who, if they weren't expecting great hockey, were at least prepared to boo Brady Tkachuk. The in-game production improved mightily, hitting perhaps the pinnacle of the craft when they set up two willing singles—apparently strangers—with tickets together for another Flames game. (I met the love of my life at what was on-ice a pretty depressing Devils game, so I'm a softie for this gimmick.) And the Flames themselves, god bless them, put their best skate forward after the humiliation of Tuesday, holding the Sens without a shot on goal for the first seven-and-a-half minutes and entering the first intermission with a 1-0 lead. (Yes, they shoot flames above the rink when the Flames score.) With "Little Bones" by the Tragically Hip still echoing in my head from the Saddledome playlist, I could gaze down on this less-than-sleek space and convince myself of something inherently ridiculous, like "The ice just looks realer here." At the very least, no one's here for the glamour.
Starting in the second period, the Flames played like the substandard roster that they are. Ottawa's Tim Stützle led the charge with a series of dynamic chances denied by Devin Cooley, but it was Lars Eller who earned credit for the equalizer when a rattled-looking Flames unit turned the puck over in their own zone and allowed the 36-year-old space for a vicious one-timer. The Flames escaped into the third with the score still 1-1, but the Sens kept Calgary's backs against the wall, and they broke through on the power play when a scrum on the boards gave way to a pass to Dylan Cozens, who had plenty of time to pick his spot and find the back of the net. "This is how the Flames look with good goaltending," I thought to myself, rueful if not yet bitter.
The nadir was the first of two empty-netters, which rewarded Stützle for his hard work. A "Go Flames Go!" chant started up as the team went six-on-four, and it was the most enthusiasm the crowd had showed all night. Almost immediately, Stützle stole a lackadaisical pass at his own blue line and chased it down for the easy goal. About half the crowd left, and nearly everyone else bolted when the second one made the final 4-1.
Walking back past the construction site, which looked even more ominous in the dark, I wondered if this was how the rest of the Saddledome's life would go: mediocre loss after mediocre loss. Maybe, against the odds, the Flames will win the lottery and add Gavin McKenna, who will have a kind of Matthew Schaefer effect that will kickstart a whole new era of Calgary hockey. More likely, the rebuild will be long and filled with nights like this. If that's the case, then Flames fans will just have to make their own fun when they take their final journeys to the Saddledome. I sure did.
