Tweet
There are probably 100 gathering places like Newks across the NHL universe. They might not all have the great wooden deck that looks out on the St. Pete Times Forum and Tampa's Channelside area. And they might not all have the crunchy grouper, for which Newks is famous. But they are in every NHL city, attached to the arenas like brightly lit barnacles offering fans a place to meet, to commiserate, to celebrate and to share the game.
Still, for all their sameness, for a few magical weeks last spring nowhere else was like Newks. The bar literally grew up with the Lightning, so much so that after Game 7, the Newks gang received an invitation onto the ice where the Stanley Cup had been awarded.
"It was probably one of the most intense things I've been through in a long, long time and I've been in the restaurant business a long time. It was electric," general manager Kim Curtis said. "Was the place built for hockey? It certainly was."
On Lightning game nights, Newks would add between 15 to 20 staff members to handle the influx of fans. None of those people, who range in age from 18 to mid-60s, are needed this season, except for the occasional concert.
Now, with the cancellation of the 2004-05 season, Curtis expects revenues to drop 50 percent.
"They haven't been able to work. That's the bottom line. It's not a pretty picture," Curtis said.
The NHL, like any large corporation that operates in 30 cities, is at the center of a delicate web of relationships. That web was ripped apart when commissioner Gary Bettman and union chief Bob Goodenow cut off its financial support for the entire season.
Ticket takers and ushers, cleaning staff and parking lot attendants, restaurateurs and bar owners, companies that supply linens and ones that service the ice resurfacing equipment, bus companies, equipment companies -- they're only part of the long list of people and industries suffering from the collateral damage created by the NHL lockout.
Still, for all their sameness, for a few magical weeks last spring nowhere else was like Newks. The bar literally grew up with the Lightning, so much so that after Game 7, the Newks gang received an invitation onto the ice where the Stanley Cup had been awarded.
"It was probably one of the most intense things I've been through in a long, long time and I've been in the restaurant business a long time. It was electric," general manager Kim Curtis said. "Was the place built for hockey? It certainly was."
On Lightning game nights, Newks would add between 15 to 20 staff members to handle the influx of fans. None of those people, who range in age from 18 to mid-60s, are needed this season, except for the occasional concert.
Now, with the cancellation of the 2004-05 season, Curtis expects revenues to drop 50 percent.
"They haven't been able to work. That's the bottom line. It's not a pretty picture," Curtis said.
The NHL, like any large corporation that operates in 30 cities, is at the center of a delicate web of relationships. That web was ripped apart when commissioner Gary Bettman and union chief Bob Goodenow cut off its financial support for the entire season.
Ticket takers and ushers, cleaning staff and parking lot attendants, restaurateurs and bar owners, companies that supply linens and ones that service the ice resurfacing equipment, bus companies, equipment companies -- they're only part of the long list of people and industries suffering from the collateral damage created by the NHL lockout.
Comment