Philadelphia Flyers fans are a legend in their own right. From a jam-packed parade down Broad Street to J.J. Daigneault’s Shot Heard Round the World, Flyers fans are well known for their passionate love of their team.
I have been writing a series on the Philadelphia Flyers legends, writing down the stories of the legends that have worn the Flyers sweater. There are more legends and more stories of them to come. But this one is about the fans, and one fan in particular.
I started writing these stories, these “legend” pieces so that my son would know the history of this proud team. The stories that I had learned, mainly, from another fan. A man that has been in my life since I was in my teens, and had been more a father to me than any person who had contributed DNA to my physical being.
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He was an avid reader of the different Flyers blogs I have contributed to, including this one. I knew that I was losing him, as he was losing his battle with cancer. I decided to write down the stories that he had passed on to me, to keep his spirit alive.
I can’t tell you how many times George would tell me stories about the Bullies I was too young to remember. I am sure that I occasionally didn’t appreciate the conversations, but he was a wealth of knowledge. I didn’t need Google or Wikipedia to research any article I wrote on the Flyers. If I didn’t know a particular stat, it was a quick IM or call.
“Hey George, was Dave Schultz ever the Captain of the Flyers?” For that matter, if there was ever a mistake in anything I wrote, I was sure to get an IM from George. He was just about the biggest Philadelphia sports fan I have ever known, and I was lucky that he was one of my biggest fans as well.
Flyers fans are passionate to a fault. They lined Broad Street, climbing light poles and hanging out of windows to get a glimpse of their Stanley Cup Champion Bullies. Flyers fans know the game, and respect it’s traditions.
We are loud, proud, and don’t care that we are hated by fans of just about every other NHL franchise. When the Flyers lost the 1985 Stanley Cup Finals to the Edmonton Oilers, throngs of fans, myself included, met them at the airport to cheer them.
Flyers fans are generous with their knowledge and are always willing to talk hockey. We are a family clad in Orange and Black. That family is missing a member tonight, but I am certain that George is somewhere bending Ed Snider’s ear, reminiscing with Gene Hart, and telling Pelle Lindbergh about a youngster named Carter Hart. Rest easy, George…watch out for that tree.