One For the Diehards

On Friday May 27th, I was headed to South Philly with my family for the Phillies game. It was Teacher Appreciation Night, and since both my wife and Mother-In-Law are teachers, this has become a bit of an annual tradition for us. All week, I was dreading the traffic to the game. Not only were the Phillies playing, but the Flyers were set to host Game 4 of the NHL Eastern Conference semifinals at the Wachovia Center. After the Flyers went down 3-0 to the Bruins in the series by mid-week, I found myself allowing cautiously optimistic traffic thoughts to enter my head as we made our way down the Blue Route towards I-95.

Upon our arrival to the sports complex, I saw a ton of Flyers fans making their way across the parking lots towards the Wachovia Center. NHL playoff games are very exciting, and have provided some of the most fun I have ever had at a sporting event. But with the Flyers in a 3-0 hole, I did not envy my fellow Philadelphia Flyers fans who were holding tickets, not one bit. Something about watching dozens and then hundreds of Flyers fans making their way to Game 4, most dressed in their orange and black Flyers finery, filled me with a mixture of sadness and pride.


I felt pride because I knew the sea of orange wouldn't give up without a fight, and that they would, at the very least, send the Flyers into the offseason with a much-deserved positive sendoff after upsetting the Devils in the first round with a team depleted by injury.

I felt sadness because of what appeared to be sad devotion to what seemed like a lost cause. I wondered what kind of energy would be in the building with the Flyers facing a seemingly insurmountable deficit to a team that it really should have been showing better against. I felt sad for folks who might have scored tickets for their first ever playoff game, as the game's outcome was destined to be rendered meaningless in the near future. My sadness was misplaced, because boy, was I wrong.

There is a contingent of Flyers fans who have been accused through the years of being incapable of dealing with reality, whose undying devotion to the team has earned them the moniker "Stepford Fans". These fans believe in the Flyers ability to overcome any obstacle or deficit. There were a couple radio personalities who believed, as I did, that it was not impossible for the Flyers to come back against the Boston Bruins. Though, as I walked into Citizen's Bank Park for the Phillies game, I was just thankful that I hadn't paid to sit through the Game 4 to find out.

As everyone knows by now, the Flyers won Game 4 in overtime, and didn't stop winning until they earned a berth in the Eastern Conference finals by beating the Bruins four games in a row. It was a comeback for the ages, and Philly fans will talk about it for a long time. But I am happiest for the diehards who pulled on their orange jerseys that Friday night. Those fans who had more faith than I did, whether they saw the game live in South Philly or at their neighborhood bars. This was a win for the Stepfords. It was a win for the kids who hold onto hope because they don't know how darned-near-impossible it is to win four games in a row while facing elimination.

To the Flyers, and to all Flyers fans who held out hope that our team could do what most thought impossible, my hat is off to you. Thanks for reminding me that great things can happen even when backs are placed firmly against the wall.