Shh. Smell That?

It's spring. School is almost over, and the Flyers are going to the playoffs. Since adolescence, this has been my reaction when the weather turns warm. I'm no longer in school, the weather isn't all that warm, and sometimes the Flyers aren't going to the playoffs. But this year they are, because there wasn't a lockout and it's not 2007. Oh god, 2007 sucked.

Anyway, the Flyers have galvanized several springs for me. Moments I'll never forget, at least for now:

Damn you Scott Stevens, I HAD JUST STARTED TO BELIEVE. I was 14 and I was down the shore on a Friday night. Pheewrap was at this game. We watched it on VHS taped off television over and over again, watching the Flyers give up a 3-1 series lead. An unheard of thing. Until you remember that you're a hockey fan, and a Flyers fan, and apparently the team was unbeatable six years before you were born.

It was a Thursday. I was allowed to stay up and watch this. I had a spelling test and gym class the next day. All I remember is going to bed excited, and now all I remember is that we used to hand Pittsburgh crushing playoff defeats, and not the other way around.

You don't get called "The Dominator" no reason. The first time they scored on him in this series, Pheewrap chokeslammed me into a bed. At an even-then combined 400 pounds, the wooden bed frame was toast. Dad was pissed. Dad is not a particularly big hockey fan.

Still haven't seen anything like it. I miss Desjardins. Also, this wasn't in the playoffs. But that's so clearly not the point.

I was standing in a bar my senior year of college. It was pub night. Beer and wings were free all night for seniors. I stood there and watched this game surrounded by free beer and wings. About three people screamed when this happened, I was probably the reddest-faced. Everything about following the Flyers from now on will be an attempt to get back to how I felt at this moment.



And yesterday, they did this. Playoffs. Sweet, sweet playoffs. Sweet, sweet, rosy-cheeked Claude Giroux playoffs.