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It is now 2am CDT, and although I know why I cannot sleep, I am almost ashamed to admit it. As much as I like sports, and as much as I follow Philly teams even here in Minneapolis, I cannot help feeling that this is stereotypical male behavior, and shamefully provincial as well. Thus it is difficult to write about one particular sporting event. Simply mocking announcers or lambasting team owners seems more acceptable.
Moreover, I do not want to admit that such an event could give me unrest if I did not engage in the game myself. My father is not a very big sports fan, so I probably learned my fan behavior from my grandfather. Of the many opinions we share is the following: asking for a player's autograph is insane; fans, in a real sense, employ and pay players. Players should ask for fans' autographs. Cynical thoughts like that should not mix with sentimental leanings to home teams.
Oh, but they do. Twice every autumn, friends can predict my mood for an entire week based upon how the Eagles do against the Dallas Cowboys. I cringe whenever I see the Phils mired at the bottom of the NL standings, double digits out of first one month before the All-star game. I cannot watch Joe Carter in the batter's box without thinking of Mitch Williams hurling the ball and himself towards the plate, serving up a home run and the World Series in game 6 at Skydome in Toronto. However, the tightest bond, and the strongest ghosts, belong to the Flyers.
In the 1979-1980 season, the Flyers set an NHL record for the longest unbeaten streak. My boyhood friend Fugie and I saw them lose in six to the Islanders in the Stanley Cup Finals that year.
In 1985, a new crew helped me live and die with a young team before they lost in the Cup Finals to the Edmonton Oilers. The star goalie Pelle Lindbergh, died in a car accident the next year, and the Flyers exited the playoffs early.
1987 saw yet another group of friends, and a fabulous season. Lunchroom conversations focused on Tim Kerr's power-play presence at the side of the net, Dave Poulin's penalty killing, Brian Propp's wristers, Dave Brown's fisticuffs, Ron Sutter's +/- stats, and a young crazed goaltender named Hextall. Disco Dave and I went to a playoff game that year against the Rangers. The Flyers would also beat the Canadiens three times at the Montreal Forum to advance, a feat never done before or since.
In the Finals, the Flyers fell down 2-0 at Edmonton, then 3 games to 1 in Philly. The city of Edmonton had a parade planned to follow game 5. The Flyers came from behind to win. They did the same in game 6, winning on an improbable goal by J.J. Daigneult.
Joe Gardner came to my house to watch game 7 because we lived a lot closer to Broad and Snyder than he did. For the first time in the series, the Flyers scored first. They would go on to lose 3-1. Once again I watched Gretzky, Messier, and Company hoist the Stanley Cup.
I do not remember the Stanley Cup wins from 1974 and 1975. I do remember the 1980 World Series win by the Phillies. As I said, though, the Flyers are dearer. Some of my numbers here might be wrong; I'm not looking them up. I imagine I am right, however. These images persist in my mind, somehow.
After that '87 season, the Flyers faced two early exits and a drought of 5 years without playoffs: an intolerable amount for the orange and black. Emotions stirred when a Lindros led team advanced to the Conference finals two years ago before losing to eventual champs New Jersey. I could accept that loss, but the one in 1996 to the Florida team Bobby Clarke helped build was more difficult.
This year looked to be different. When the Flyers defeated Gretzky, Messier and Company this year, ten years later, with an older, subdued Hextall in net, I thought the ghosts might be put away.
Instead I can add a winged-wheel and grappling octopi to the inventory of spirits. A four game sweep by Detroit will do that to you. And keep you from sleeping, as well, I guess.
I look forward to the day when a Flyer captain holds that cup over his head. I yearn for it. But I still won't ask him for his autograph.
Who needs mementos when you hold on so tight to the memories?
Last Updated: 8 June 1997
Commiserate.