heidi hearts hockey
The title of this blog pretty much says it all, and those of you who know me even remotely well already know I have a shameless love of hockey. Hard-hitting, high energy hockey. The single most asked question I get every fall and winter (following a blank stare and look of confusion that crosses the face) is “Heidi, why do you like hockey?” I forgive that slight to a game that I love because it’s not like I live in Canada. Or even somewhere winter sports are celebrated for their respective skill sets. No, I was born and raised (and currently live) in the Heartland, where hardwoods and football fields reign supreme.
My first memories of hockey, other than watching classic Winter Games clashes on television (1980 being a particularly memorable one), were family outings to Indianapolis Checkers games. I believe we might still have a Checkers puck buried somewhere in a box of forgotten memories in my parents’ basement. I realize by admitting to dates and places, I’m definitely aging on the spot. We may have even watched a Cincinnati Stingers game during a trip to visit my mother’s side of the family. Of course, as a girl growing up in Indiana, I really had no clue what was going on, but remember being fascinated by all the action as the players glided across the ice and occasionally slammed into the boards as they fought for the puck.
Wonderful memories. So how did a Midwestern girl turn into a fierce hockey fan? My real love of hockey developed due to three strapping, fearsome players known as the Legion of Doom. During late February 1995, I was living in Philadelphia for a semester – going to classes, working a sweet radio internship and living life to its fullest. I was asked to go to a hockey game, a new friend had an extra ticket. So I headed down to the ice rink and a whole new world opened up to me. All the talk that season in Philly was an uproar over the trade of Mark Recchi to make way for what would soon produce one of the most feared and technically prolific lines of hockey: Lindros, Renberg, LeClair. This particular game was during the line’s infancy, but the tension, muscle and skill level were palpable in the rink when these three men took to the ice.
I quickly quizzed my companion about rules, penalties and passing. I received a clinic in hockey do’s and don’ts (of which there aren’t many in the Philly mindset, but the unspoken rules are ones that I abide by today as a fan). I was educated, by my friend and the many fans around me that first night, about Old Time Hockey and the Original Six and the expansion of the league that brought the Flyers permanently to the city. And I learned a lot about John LeClair, one of my favorite players, during that first night and many subsequent nights. In my mind, his grit, heart and unbelievable determination will always signify what is best about Flyers hockey and the sport in general. I soaked up all things hockey that first night, and have been a loyal, devoted Flyers fan ever since.
I have heard it all about my Flyers: many uneducated or peripheral “fans” of the game who have latched onto the Broad Street Bullies mentality and classified them as goons or as dirty players who rely strictly on the physical to get them through a season. I don’t mind. Some of the stereotypes are justified. The Flyers have always been a very physical team. Yes, they will push you around. Yes, they will bang you into the boards. Yes, they would just as soon knock you on your ass than put up with fancy, ticky-tacky plays. But one thing is certain: they play hard, they play to win, they are infuriatingly inconsistent because they play with their hearts first, and heads second. They are a force to be reckoned with and you must earn your win from them. And make no mistake, they hit you where it hurts, but they hit cleanly. This last statement will undoubtedly draw random and isolated jabs from my hockey-loving friends, but 15 years of watching my team ebb and flow qualifies me to comment.
There is nothing like watching a Flyers game in the rink at Philadelphia. The smell of the ice, combined with an ice cold beer and a cheesesteak, is honestly enough to get me to the rink on time. The sound of skates and the crack of a slapshot during the game. The collective cry of the crowd as two players careen headlong into the boards. But the energy of the crowd, who exercise an often entertaining litany of love/hate one-liners directed at the players and coaches, and a fierce passion for the sport is entertainment at its highest level. It’s a place to let it all hang out, and Flyers fans are not shy about enjoying their game experience. For all their misdirected aggression and flaws (which I have experienced in other rinks, don’t kid yourselves, there are dumbass fans in every city), there’s no place like my hockey home.
I could go on blogging about why I love hockey and the Flyers in particular ad infinitum; at any given time during the hockey season I can often be found randomly spouting off statistics, grumbling over missed plays, injuries and ridiculous trades, recalling spectacular overtime goals and bracing myself for heartbreaking playoff losses. I have over 80 games plus what will hopefully become another memorable and proud playoff run to settle in, smack talk with other hockey fans and friends, and exercise my love/hate relationship with my Flyers. And it all starts tonight with the first regular season game. So I’ll end this with a simple statement that I say before every start of every game...Let’s go Flyers!
My first memories of hockey, other than watching classic Winter Games clashes on television (1980 being a particularly memorable one), were family outings to Indianapolis Checkers games. I believe we might still have a Checkers puck buried somewhere in a box of forgotten memories in my parents’ basement. I realize by admitting to dates and places, I’m definitely aging on the spot. We may have even watched a Cincinnati Stingers game during a trip to visit my mother’s side of the family. Of course, as a girl growing up in Indiana, I really had no clue what was going on, but remember being fascinated by all the action as the players glided across the ice and occasionally slammed into the boards as they fought for the puck.
Wonderful memories. So how did a Midwestern girl turn into a fierce hockey fan? My real love of hockey developed due to three strapping, fearsome players known as the Legion of Doom. During late February 1995, I was living in Philadelphia for a semester – going to classes, working a sweet radio internship and living life to its fullest. I was asked to go to a hockey game, a new friend had an extra ticket. So I headed down to the ice rink and a whole new world opened up to me. All the talk that season in Philly was an uproar over the trade of Mark Recchi to make way for what would soon produce one of the most feared and technically prolific lines of hockey: Lindros, Renberg, LeClair. This particular game was during the line’s infancy, but the tension, muscle and skill level were palpable in the rink when these three men took to the ice.
I quickly quizzed my companion about rules, penalties and passing. I received a clinic in hockey do’s and don’ts (of which there aren’t many in the Philly mindset, but the unspoken rules are ones that I abide by today as a fan). I was educated, by my friend and the many fans around me that first night, about Old Time Hockey and the Original Six and the expansion of the league that brought the Flyers permanently to the city. And I learned a lot about John LeClair, one of my favorite players, during that first night and many subsequent nights. In my mind, his grit, heart and unbelievable determination will always signify what is best about Flyers hockey and the sport in general. I soaked up all things hockey that first night, and have been a loyal, devoted Flyers fan ever since.
I have heard it all about my Flyers: many uneducated or peripheral “fans” of the game who have latched onto the Broad Street Bullies mentality and classified them as goons or as dirty players who rely strictly on the physical to get them through a season. I don’t mind. Some of the stereotypes are justified. The Flyers have always been a very physical team. Yes, they will push you around. Yes, they will bang you into the boards. Yes, they would just as soon knock you on your ass than put up with fancy, ticky-tacky plays. But one thing is certain: they play hard, they play to win, they are infuriatingly inconsistent because they play with their hearts first, and heads second. They are a force to be reckoned with and you must earn your win from them. And make no mistake, they hit you where it hurts, but they hit cleanly. This last statement will undoubtedly draw random and isolated jabs from my hockey-loving friends, but 15 years of watching my team ebb and flow qualifies me to comment.
There is nothing like watching a Flyers game in the rink at Philadelphia. The smell of the ice, combined with an ice cold beer and a cheesesteak, is honestly enough to get me to the rink on time. The sound of skates and the crack of a slapshot during the game. The collective cry of the crowd as two players careen headlong into the boards. But the energy of the crowd, who exercise an often entertaining litany of love/hate one-liners directed at the players and coaches, and a fierce passion for the sport is entertainment at its highest level. It’s a place to let it all hang out, and Flyers fans are not shy about enjoying their game experience. For all their misdirected aggression and flaws (which I have experienced in other rinks, don’t kid yourselves, there are dumbass fans in every city), there’s no place like my hockey home.
I could go on blogging about why I love hockey and the Flyers in particular ad infinitum; at any given time during the hockey season I can often be found randomly spouting off statistics, grumbling over missed plays, injuries and ridiculous trades, recalling spectacular overtime goals and bracing myself for heartbreaking playoff losses. I have over 80 games plus what will hopefully become another memorable and proud playoff run to settle in, smack talk with other hockey fans and friends, and exercise my love/hate relationship with my Flyers. And it all starts tonight with the first regular season game. So I’ll end this with a simple statement that I say before every start of every game...Let’s go Flyers!
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