(Wearing my Stan Mikita T-shirt at the Hawks vs. Ducks game in March. Thanks to Mona & Kim for the tix. Even though they lost, it was a night to remember in a season to remember.)

Today was one of the craziest days I’ve ever had as a reporter.

I’m not kidding. The deluge of news pounded me like a Dustin Byfuglien check against the boards. It was almost as crazy as being the lead rewrite the night the Plainfield tornado killed 28 people in 1990. Almost.

And I had extra incentive to write as fast as Jonathan Toews skates — I had to get done in time to see my beloved Chicago Blackhawks go for the Stanley Cup championship tonight.

But the breaking news just would not stop. Story after story, development after development kept flooding in like, well, let’s just resist the BP pun here, OK?

Finally, I got a chance to peek at the score. It was 3-2, Hawks, in the third period. Mona called. We had planned to meet to watch the game at one of our favorite restaurants. But we knew we wouldn’t make it in time. Besides, I still had one more story to write. What a tragedy. All was lost. If they won I’d have to miss it.

Then she got a great idea, as Mona usually does.

“Do you want to watch it on the Star Cam on msnbc.com while we stay on the phone?” she said.

“Yeah, and I’ve got a better idea,” I replied, reaching for my XM radio player and plugging in the earphone. I could watch that msnbc camera as it trails one player across the ice, not quite catching all of the action, but some of it, while I talked to Mona in one ear and listened to the play-by-play via XM in the other ear.

Then disaster struck. The Flyers — in this improbable season of theirs — rallied like Rocky looking for that glass skate before the chimes of midnight. 3-3. Overtime. Damn! It’s a Chicago team. They’re bound to choke, I thought.

So while the teams prepared for OT, I finished my work and headed for the door. I would listen to the game on my radio on the drive home — then I’d pick up Mona so she could get her first pair of glasses since 1989. Boy, did she need them, too. All that work on the computer is taking its toll on her eyes.

As I walked to my car I was suddenly struck with the notion that I could run a few blocks up the street and catch the overtime at a nearby sports bar.

Nah, I thought. Nothing would be finer than listening to it on the radio, maybe catching the end of it with Mona.

Then, just as I approached the freeway on-ramp, it happened. Glory struck. Patrick Kane’s crazy shot found its way into the cage, though none of us were immediately sure it had struck gold. But everlasting glory, it was.

Hawks are the Stanley Cup Champions. I yanked the car to the curb and howled with delight. And I called Mona — shouting into her voicemail, “We won!!!”

I grew up rooting for the Blackhawks — literally. I was barely old enough to turn on the TV and would watch my hero Stan Mikita, near the end of his career then, and root for other heroes like Tony Esposito. They were good then, but not quite good enough.

And sure there was that wondrous 1992 season when they, of course, had to bow to Super Mario. But we were all still so focused on Michael and Co. — the other team on Chicago’s West Side.

Then came the bad years. Was it 2005 when I blogged that the Hawks were the worst team in professional sports? To me, they stunk more than the Detroit Lions even. Just horrible. And I put all the blame at Dollar Bill Wirtz’s feet. Or Bill Worst, as we liked to call him.

Who knew that his son, Rocky, who ran the beverage side of the family business would want to take over? And was that a good thing? Boy, was it ever! He assembled a leadership team that finally got the job done. No more hiring coaches named after dog food who couldn’t even speak English! What a debacle. No, we picked the right players in the draft — remember the ridicule that came when the Hawks used the team’s only number one pick in history to get Kane? Looks good now, doesn’t it?

Everything looks good now. Let’s keep the championships coming, Hawks. Keep this team together and we’ll have a stampede like Michael’s Bulls in the ’90s.

Go Hawks!

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