Welcome back to the "Faceoff Spectacular" here at OBG (which is, for those of you kids who forgot, or who were in the bathroom for our first two posts, the Orange, Black, and Gold blog). As promised, it's time to get going on one of our top pre-season features, the "Top 10 Most Painful Moments" from the Flyers/Penguins rivalry over the past couple years. Now, the fact that they are all painful to Flyers' fans isn't because the Flyers have been the lesser of the two teams over the past couple year- at least I think that isn't the reason...
Anyway, just a few notes before we begin. Every lovely clip will be accompanied by a video, from either nhl.tv, YouTube, or another lovely provider of years worth of life-wasting videos. In honor of those of us whose browsers can't handle over a dozen embedded videos at once, the videos will be posted as links. Feel free to comment, and make sure to check back often, because these posts are going to be going faster than the issue of GQ with Sidney Crosby shirtless (although that's not really a hard feat to accomplish...):
#10: Sykora's Called Shot
I, for one, am a fan of hockey above all other sports because of the unique emotional outpouring that a goal can provide- especially playoff overtime goals. Series winning goals are even better. However, nothing can compare to the sight of a cup-winning goal. In 2000, I was in third grade, and I stayed up until the wee hours of the morning, with my dad sleeping on the couch next to me, hoping the New Jersey Devils, up 3-1 in the series and playing at home, could win the cup in overtime. I didn't even care that the Devils, who had just shockingly overcome a 3-1 deficit to knock off my Flyers in the Conference Finals, would win the Stanley Cup if they scored. That's how badly I wanted to see it. The game went three overtimes, and Mike Modano killed my hopes by scoring a lucky goal in the third overtime to win it for the Stars. The next night, I was deemed too tired to stay up, and I missed Jason Arnott winning the Stanley Cup in double overtime for the Devils.
In 2008, I faced virtually the exact same situation, but everything was flipped. It was the Detroit Red Wings up 3-1 to a hated rival team of mine, this time the Penguins, and the Red Wings were trying to win the cup at home. The Penguins jumped out to a 2-0 lead, much to my dismay, thanks to goals from Marian Hossa and Adam Hall. However, the Red Wings came roaring back in the second and third period, scoring three goals of their own. The fans became counting down, until, somehow, Maxime Talbot tied the game with 34.3 seconds to go. Now, believe it or not, I didn't mind- it made for fantastic hockey, and I love a thrilling game. Besides, I didn't think the Penguins had a chance in the series, and now, I had a shot at potentially seeing a cup-winning overtime goal at home.
I again found myself battling to stay awake into the wee hours in the morning, but this time things got too interesting for me to even consider falling half-asleep. Penguins' winger Petr Sykora actually knocked on the glass next to NBC Inside the Glass reporter Pierre McGuire, and told him that he would get the winning goal. I thought he was insane, and I couldn't wait to see his ludicrous statement double the pain of Penguins fans if and when they lost. However, for the second time in my life, a third overtime goal dashed my hopes of seeing a cup-winning overtime goal live. The Penguins got a four-minute power-play, and just 35 seconds into it, the prophecy came true. Sykora scored on a bullet shot from the point, and my whole dream came crashing down. It couldn't have happened in a more embarrassing way- not only was I not going to get my playoff overtime winner, but the Penguins had gotten a miraculous victory that validated them as a top-tier team and kept them alive in their cup hopes. In addition, they had done so on a called shot. So, essentially, instead of just wishing that the Penguins lost the game 3-2 instead of tying it, I wanted the game to continue. It was a classic case of "be careful what you wish for," and it was a sour feeling to say the least. And, to make matters worse, it wouldn't be the last time (stay tuned to find out what on earth that means)...
Next Time on "Top 10 Most Painful Moments": Even further evidence as to why three is my unlucky number...
Showing posts with label Maxime Talbot. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Maxime Talbot. Show all posts
Friday, September 11, 2009
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Introduction
PittStart- the beginning of a University of Pittsburgh student’s college experience.
I was ecstatic for my PittStart, as I was chomping at the bit to make any sort of jump I could into college life. I couldn’t wait to get my first taste of Pittsburgh as a college student, and to finally complete my transition out of high school. Just like the vast majority of college-bound high school seniors, I was already thinking ahead to the many wonderful, life-changing, and exciting experiences college would be sure to bring. That being said, I came up with the crafty idea of choosing an early PittStart date- June 15th and 16th- which would allow me an early jump into college life, and a chance to register for classes early. It was, in my mind, a foolproof plan.
I departed for my PittStart on the morning of the 15th from my hometown of Cheltenham (a northern suburb of Philadelphia) with just me and my lovely ’95 Buick Regal. I was making fantastic time, and found myself at the Pittsburgh exit of the Pennsylvania Turnpike in four hours and change (I won’t specify my exact travel time, just in case anybody reading this post happens to be a Pennsylvania State Trooper…). I paid my toll, and took the ramp to Interstate 376 (the road into the city of Pittsburgh). I took off down the highway, happy as a clam. I was doing sixty-something without fail for a few minutes until I hit a brick wall of traffic.
I was afraid that this might have happened. I switched on my 90’s-style car radio, and began scanning the channels. It only took me a few seconds to reach a station broadcasting the death sentence I was expecting…
“…bumper to bumper on about every major road within the city limits. These Penguins fans are coming out in droves, and it’s really a sight to see. Seeing this many cars out on the road, filled with yellow-and-gold sporting fans, gives me just as many chills as seeing Crosby tie Game 6 against the Flyers, Letang rocket that OT winner in Game 3 against the Caps, or watching Talbot stun the Wings in Game 7.”
Of course, these weren’t the exact words I heard, but I couldn’t hope to remember what exactly was said, because my mind was on the verge of exploding. I couldn’t take it anymore. It hadn’t even been a minute, and I was already infuriated. The oasis of college now felt like it was millions of miles away, because each mile I drove was bringing me further away from that oasis. I saw the next four years of my life flash before me, and among all the great things I saw, there was a faint buzz of doubt. It sounded like the Penguins goal horn.
At that point, I was on the verge on going mad. I couldn’t take it anymore because I, unlike everyone around me, was a Flyers fan. A really, really, big Flyers fan…
Complex imagery and climactic, exaggerated narratives aside, this is, in essence, how my life as a Flyers fan in Pittsburgh began. While I had been excited to begin my time as a student at Pitt from the second I sent in my enrollment deposit, I had always been dreading the idea of coming to Pittsburgh, the home of my team’s most hated rival, the Penguins.
My move to Pittsburgh was one laced in irony. Prior to 2008, the place most deserving of the title “Philadelphia Sports Hell” would undoubtedly be Philadelphia itself. With the city stuck in a 25-year title drought, Philadelphia sports fans were living in pain and frustration, as their four major sports flopped time and time again in key situations. Finally, though, in 2008, the Phillies World Series championship brought the city out of its living hell, and all seemed right in the world.
Over the next nine or so months, the other three Philadelphia teams were knocked out of their respective playoffs. The Sixers were knocked out in the first round by the Magic- but I never really cared too much for the NBA. The Eagles were upset in the NFC championship by the Cardinals, who went on to lose to the Pittsburgh Steelers- who the Eagles had beaten in the regular season. The Flyers, meanwhile, were stuck playing the Penguins in the playoffs for the second straight year, and again lacked home-ice advantage due to a sloppy regular season finale in which they allowed the Rangers to make a surprising comeback victory. The Flyers were steamrolled in the first game, and shockingly upended in comeback fashion in the second game, but they managed to stay in the series, coming back home down 3-2 for Game 6.
That Game 6 marked my damnation into the new Philadelphia Sports Hell. I was attending the game, and I knew it would be the biggest of my life. The Flyers jumped out to a 3-0 lead, and, long story short, they blew it (don’t fret; you’ll hear plenty about this game in the posts to come). The Penguins won the game 5-3, leaving all of Flyer nation stunned. This victory ended up being a huge boost for the Penguins en route to a Stanley Cup title.
All of a sudden, Pittsburgh now had two titles that year, and we still only had one- and, to make matters worse, both had come at our expense. The one title we had barely even mattered. If you are to point out to a resident of “titletown” that the Pirates haven’t won a title- or even had a winning season- in years, they’ll simply reply, “I don’t like baseball.”
So now, a new Philadelphia Sports Hell began to take form, and I was headed right for it…
I was ecstatic for my PittStart, as I was chomping at the bit to make any sort of jump I could into college life. I couldn’t wait to get my first taste of Pittsburgh as a college student, and to finally complete my transition out of high school. Just like the vast majority of college-bound high school seniors, I was already thinking ahead to the many wonderful, life-changing, and exciting experiences college would be sure to bring. That being said, I came up with the crafty idea of choosing an early PittStart date- June 15th and 16th- which would allow me an early jump into college life, and a chance to register for classes early. It was, in my mind, a foolproof plan.
I departed for my PittStart on the morning of the 15th from my hometown of Cheltenham (a northern suburb of Philadelphia) with just me and my lovely ’95 Buick Regal. I was making fantastic time, and found myself at the Pittsburgh exit of the Pennsylvania Turnpike in four hours and change (I won’t specify my exact travel time, just in case anybody reading this post happens to be a Pennsylvania State Trooper…). I paid my toll, and took the ramp to Interstate 376 (the road into the city of Pittsburgh). I took off down the highway, happy as a clam. I was doing sixty-something without fail for a few minutes until I hit a brick wall of traffic.
I was afraid that this might have happened. I switched on my 90’s-style car radio, and began scanning the channels. It only took me a few seconds to reach a station broadcasting the death sentence I was expecting…
“…bumper to bumper on about every major road within the city limits. These Penguins fans are coming out in droves, and it’s really a sight to see. Seeing this many cars out on the road, filled with yellow-and-gold sporting fans, gives me just as many chills as seeing Crosby tie Game 6 against the Flyers, Letang rocket that OT winner in Game 3 against the Caps, or watching Talbot stun the Wings in Game 7.”
Of course, these weren’t the exact words I heard, but I couldn’t hope to remember what exactly was said, because my mind was on the verge of exploding. I couldn’t take it anymore. It hadn’t even been a minute, and I was already infuriated. The oasis of college now felt like it was millions of miles away, because each mile I drove was bringing me further away from that oasis. I saw the next four years of my life flash before me, and among all the great things I saw, there was a faint buzz of doubt. It sounded like the Penguins goal horn.
At that point, I was on the verge on going mad. I couldn’t take it anymore because I, unlike everyone around me, was a Flyers fan. A really, really, big Flyers fan…
Complex imagery and climactic, exaggerated narratives aside, this is, in essence, how my life as a Flyers fan in Pittsburgh began. While I had been excited to begin my time as a student at Pitt from the second I sent in my enrollment deposit, I had always been dreading the idea of coming to Pittsburgh, the home of my team’s most hated rival, the Penguins.
My move to Pittsburgh was one laced in irony. Prior to 2008, the place most deserving of the title “Philadelphia Sports Hell” would undoubtedly be Philadelphia itself. With the city stuck in a 25-year title drought, Philadelphia sports fans were living in pain and frustration, as their four major sports flopped time and time again in key situations. Finally, though, in 2008, the Phillies World Series championship brought the city out of its living hell, and all seemed right in the world.
Over the next nine or so months, the other three Philadelphia teams were knocked out of their respective playoffs. The Sixers were knocked out in the first round by the Magic- but I never really cared too much for the NBA. The Eagles were upset in the NFC championship by the Cardinals, who went on to lose to the Pittsburgh Steelers- who the Eagles had beaten in the regular season. The Flyers, meanwhile, were stuck playing the Penguins in the playoffs for the second straight year, and again lacked home-ice advantage due to a sloppy regular season finale in which they allowed the Rangers to make a surprising comeback victory. The Flyers were steamrolled in the first game, and shockingly upended in comeback fashion in the second game, but they managed to stay in the series, coming back home down 3-2 for Game 6.
That Game 6 marked my damnation into the new Philadelphia Sports Hell. I was attending the game, and I knew it would be the biggest of my life. The Flyers jumped out to a 3-0 lead, and, long story short, they blew it (don’t fret; you’ll hear plenty about this game in the posts to come). The Penguins won the game 5-3, leaving all of Flyer nation stunned. This victory ended up being a huge boost for the Penguins en route to a Stanley Cup title.
All of a sudden, Pittsburgh now had two titles that year, and we still only had one- and, to make matters worse, both had come at our expense. The one title we had barely even mattered. If you are to point out to a resident of “titletown” that the Pirates haven’t won a title- or even had a winning season- in years, they’ll simply reply, “I don’t like baseball.”
So now, a new Philadelphia Sports Hell began to take form, and I was headed right for it…
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