Ron Kantowski on what an NHL franchise, if one ever comes to Las Vegas, could mean to the Wranglers and to hockey fans

By Ron Kantowski (contact)

Thursday, Oct. 25, 2007 | 7:44 a.m.

Until last week, there were two primary sports tenants paying rent to the Orleans Arena.

One is very successful in the standings, moderately successful at the turnstiles and offers fast-paced sports entertainment at a somewhat affordable price.

The other was the Gladiators.

While the Arena Football Gladiators pulled a Bob Irsay last week, departing for Cleveland's frozen tundra while leaving the Orleans holding the bag on a lease that still had a year to run, the Wranglers of the ECHL dropped the puck on their fifth season at the Orleans with games against the Stockton Thunder on Sunday and Tuesday.

Perhaps it was appropriate that Las Vegas and Stockton opened the season against each other because the cities are so much alike, right down to their nicknames. Whereas Las Vegas is often referred to as Sin City, Stockton has been called Tuleberg, Gas City and Mudville, after the home team for which the Mighty Casey struck out. The Stockton Ports of the California League even played two seasons as the Mudville Nine, which maybe wasn't the best nickname in minor league sports, only because Las Vegas 51s was taken.

But one of these days, a big shot from the Anschutz Entertainment Group and a couple of county commissioners are going to stick a shovel in the ground and pose for photographs, thereby breaking ground on the arena project we've been hearing so much about (but not so much lately). Then the clock will start ticking on the Wranglers' long-term viability here, because the AEG folks say they're bringing the National Hockey League to town, with or without Wayne Gretzky's approval.

Ernest Thayer won't be around to chronicle the fate of Las Vegas' two hockey franchises. But if the Las Vegas Six craps out, it wouldn't be a big surprise if Chris Isaak, the singer-songwriter who hails from Stockton, takes a poke at it from the blue line.

"Yes, it's gonna happen," Wranglers President Billy Johnson said of the new arena as the Ferraro Twins continued to skate school figures around those Dorothy Hamill look - alikes from Stockton on Tuesday night. (Actually, the Thunder played more like Tonya Harding in a 3-2 defeat, but regardless of how many times they cracked the Wranglers on the kneecaps with their hockey sticks, they still left town with zero points.)

"Yes, I believe we're going to get an NHL team, eventually," Johnson said.

But no, he doesn't believe if and when we get an NHL team that anybody should sound a death knell for the Wranglers or play another Rob Zombie song over the public address system, which might be the modern day version of a death knell.

"Apples and oranges," he said of the distinct fan bases the Wranglers and the Mighty Quacks (or whatever our NHL team will be called) will play to.

The average price of a Wranglers ticket is $18. Although not exactly cheap, for the price of a movie and a half you get a great seat to watch something that looks, feels and smells a lot like hockey, especially when the visiting goalie is on a winning streak and refuses to shave and shower.

The average price of an NHL ticket is $54. It'll probably be more than that in Las Vegas, because everything costs more here when it comes to live entertainment. Just ask an Eddie Money fan.

"I'm sure we'll take a hit initially. But that's gonna be a train wreck," Johnson said about the prospect of an NHL team trying to fill up a cavernous igloo in a warm-weather city where entertainment options are more plentiful than Sidney Crosby assists.

"How do you do what we try to do but make three times more money? Here, we're looking at 6,000 (seats). They're looking at 18,000. But if they were willing to pay me, I'd love to make it my problem."

Johnson was only joking. I think. But when it comes to hockey, he knows what works here and what doesn't, when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em. On Tuesday night, he definitely folded.

"Look at tonight," he said, waving his hand toward grandstands at the 7,500-seat Orleans horseshoe that weren't even half-full. "This will be our worst night of the year."

If P.T. Barnum joined forces with Don King , they'd have trouble drawing a crowd to a minor league hockey game on Tuesday night. Off nights at the turnstiles are to be expected at the dump-and-chase - the - puck level.

"But you can't have an off night on Tuesday in the NHL," Johnson said. "Not when you've got that big of a payroll."

Johnson doesn't seem to be in any great hurry to update his resume. It's going to be at least three years after they put the shovel in the ground before the first high-sticking penalty at the new arena ; and by that time, the Wranglers will probably have changed their jerseys three more times . ("Hey, we've got to make money somehow," Johnson said.)

Plus, as Johnson says, minor league hockey teams in places such as Chicago and Philadelphia have been able to coexist with NHL teams perched in the creases.

I would point out that those are cities where people wear stocking caps and shovel snow.

Johnson would point out that long after the Las Vegas Mighty Quacks become the Atlanta Thrashers III, the Wranglers probably will still be skating circles around the Stockton Thunder.