This could be last call for the building known as Copps

Sure it’s a cliché, but whenever it happens, it really will be the end of an era. When the facility reopens, it’ll be different. Cleaner, flashier and newer but with fewer memories than the original.

Garry McKay easily recalls the first game played in the building nearly 40 years ago. The first real game.

Hours after the official opening ceremony on Nov. 30, 1985, a bunch of old-timers skated in front of about 5,000 people. Technically that would be first. But the first taste of actual competition came in an exhibition game between Canada’s Olympic hockey team and the Soviets a few days later.

The longtime Spectator sportswriter had secured a pair of tickets for his parents to go to that one while he covered it. They were in the front row, right on the glass. Best seats in the house. At least, they should’ve been.

Except early in the contest, a huge bodycheck caused the glass in front of them to explode into a million tiny fragments, showering them with debris. McKay was watching from high above in the press box with a mix of amusement and concern.

“I saw her pulling pieces out of her hair,” he laughs.

That’s one of his memories. Talk to most Hamiltonians and they’ll likely have their own. It might involve being there for the biggies like Gretzky-to-Lemieux to win the 1987 Canada Cup, Ben Johnson’s return to competition at the 1991 Spectator Indoor Games, seeing Frank Sinatra, Paul McCartney, U2 — or not seeing Luciano Pavarotti, twice — a visit from Queen Elizabeth or Billy Graham.

It could be watching a Memorial Cup, a world junior hockey championship, the Brier, what was once the longest game in American Hockey League history (four overtimes), one of three Bulldogs’ championships, the world basketball championship, the SkyHawks or a political rally.

It might even have been waiting in line for tickets for the first concert (The Thompson Twins and Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark) or camping outside with the Deadheads, witnessing the first-ever Royal Rumble, plugging your ears to the roar of monster trucks, watching the rodeo or even experiencing lingerie football.

For a decade and a half, Gabe Macaluso ran the organization that operated the arena. Get him talking about great events that happened in the building and you’ll need to clear your calendar. The list is long.

With one exception.

When shock rocker Marilyn Manson was booked, Macaluso started getting angry calls from teachers and church groups and even called out by some city councillors. Manson kills animals on stage, he was told. He slashes himself, he says awful things and most shockingly perhaps, he doesn’t wear underpants.

“It was awful,” he says.

Not the lack of underpants (not sure that was ever established). Rather, the blowback.

Before the singer was able to go onstage, the local vice squad paid a visit to have a chat with him and the SPCA was on standby to ensure he committed no atrocities against goats or chickens. And then when he got rolling …

“Nothing happened,” Macaluso says.

We won’t even get into the flak he absorbed from folks furious that Milli Vanilli was lip syncing rather than singing.

These moments, and others, were taking place in a building that was very much of its time.

Brian Conacher was managing director of Copps Coliseum when it opened. With almost 18,000 seats, it was large. NHL-sized (we know, we know, move along). But it was built on a relatively small footprint downtown leaving not a lot of space for extras.

“It didn’t have the amenities the next generation of buildings had,” he says.

What it did have were some quirks. He says there were initially no private boxes included in the design. He adjusted some things midconstruction to get a few built. Trouble is, that cut into space on the concourse making things tighter.

The rink was expandable from North American-size ice to international-size ice, even though he can’t recall that feature ever being utilized. That created two small problems.

First, if you’re going to have wider ice, you need to be able to freeze it. That meant chillers extended into the seating area. So folks in the first row or two would have frozen feet after a while. Secondly, arena staff quickly realized that if the boards were pushed back, people in the first few rows of the upper deck wouldn’t be able to see three or four feet of the ice.

There was one other thing.

There’s long been a story out there that the initial plans didn’t include a press box. Which would explain why getting to the one that was eventually built requires a hike across a porous steel catwalk that’s terrifying to those with a fear of heights.

Is this true?

“I would say, yes,” Conacher says.

That’s all to be gone soon.

When the Rock finish their season — either when they’re eliminated or hoisting a trophy — the place will close for 12 to 14 months. Possibly making Friday evening’s game historic.

When it reopens, it won’t look anything like the place that’s been home to all these warm reminiscences. There will be new concourses and premium spaces and improved seating and enhanced private boxes and better concessions and all kinds of new things backstage for artists. It’ll be modern and fancy in the same way Tim Hortons Field was compared to Ivor Wynne Stadium.

Same address. Different world. Even those who’ve spent the most time there will need a map at first. Among them will be McKay, who’s covered as many events there as anyone.

A day or two after that first game back in 1985, he went to visit mom and dad. Figured they’d chat about the experience a bit. Maybe have a laugh.

“I have something for you,” she told him.

With that, she opened her purse and handed it to him. When he looked inside, it was half-filled with pieces of glass that had rained down on them and fallen in. Take your pick, she quipped.

He did.

“I still have it.”