Sports
Remembering The Flyers’ First Stanley Cup 50 years ago
Also Remembering my own battle 50 years ago
I will never forget the spring 1974; one day in particular which stands out from that spring was Sunday, May 19, 1974. On that date, the Philadelphia Flyers won the Stanley Cup for the first time.
I was never a big ice hockey fan, but in May 1974, I suffered from severe fear and anxiety every day at school. I was a 10-year-old fourth grade student at Merion Elementary School, and I kept a dark secret, which very few people knew.
My Secret
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I was partially blind, which caused a lot of the other children to feel sorry for me. I wanted it that way because I thought that the only alternative was to have gotten beaten up once again on a daily basis, as I had from 1970-1972 when I attended Logan Elementary School in North Philadelphia.
In the fall 1972, my parents had me transferred to Merion Elementary School, where I now was on the receiving end of immense pity and condescension. In retrospect, some of my classmates must have thought that I was stupid. Whenever I spelled a simple word correctly during a spelling bee, or called out the right answers to simple history questions, my classmates applauded.
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I felt safe, but in the summer 1973, my parents had “wrecked” my “safe” world. They bought me an expensive pair of reading glasses, which made it possible for me to read small print like everyone else. The reading glasses would also improve my vision. That was my biggest fear. I thought that once kids saw that my vision improved, they would stop feeling sorry for me and then I’d get beaten up again every day as I had at Logan. I also feared that as soon as my vision improved, I would no longer be special. I would no longer feel protected, not just from the students who felt sorry for me but from the teachers as well. I was scared that if I could see better, I’d go from being special to being an insignificant nothing. I felt that way home. Therefore, in the spring 1974, I did everything I could to fit in so that I would not relive those Logan experiences. I also did my best to avoid reading.
I am glad that I developed a serious love of reading a year later. I enjoyed reading Homer, Vergil, Dante, and James Joyce. But back in 1974, reading was the last thing that I wanted to do. The mere thought of it upset me.
Because almost everyone at Merion School loved the Flyers, I pretended to love them, too. In fact, to show that I cared, I wrote a limerick, which the teacher put on the blackboard for everyone to see:
The Flyers made it to the Finals All Right!
And they’re going to win this great big fight.
Although the Bruins are great
And the Flyers they hate
The Flyers have more might.
Even then I knew that there was nothing special about that limerick, but everyone was impressed because I wrote it, a half blind kid whom a few peers thought was mentally retarded.
Regarding the Flyers’ sudden popularity, I was wondering if the whole area had suddenly become bewitched. Until the spring 1974, I never heard of the Flyers. Now that was what everyone talked about. I now heard very little talk about the Eagles and the Phillies.
In 1974, I understood why nobody talked about the Sixers. It didn’t matter that they greatly improved from their 1972-1973 season when they finished dead last with a 9-73 record. In the ’73-’74 season, the Sixers improved to 25-57. They improved, but so what! Back in 1974, who would waste time following a Philly sports team well below 500, when there was a more exciting team on the brink of winning the Stanley cup?
Something else was happening in the spring of 1974 that didn’t make sense to me.
In the fall of 1972, it seemed as though everyone liked Nixon. They wanted him to beat George McGovern. Now a year and a half later, these same people jumped on the “I hate Richard Nixon bandwagon.”
While the Flyers battled the Boston Bruins in the Stanley Cup Finals, I was ten times more interested in the Philadelphia Warriors, a roller game team. (Roller Games is an offshoot of roller derby, but roller games has more theatrics.)
I watched the Stanley Cup Finals because I felt I had to in order to avoid being teased and taunted and maybe even beaten up.
Due to being on the Autism Spectrum, I can remember details from over 50 years ago as if they had just happened.
I remember most of the Flyers from ’74, and I even remember some of their uniform numbers:
Bobby Clarke Number 16, Bernie Parent Number 1, Dave Schultz, (the hammer) number 8, Ed Van Impe, Number 2, and Rick MacLeish, Number 19. I knew who many of the other Flyers were, even though I never knew their numbers: Don Saleski, Jimmy and Joe Watson, Bill Barber, Terry Crisp, Orest Kindrachuk, Andre “Moose” Dupont, Gary Dornhoefer, Bob Kelly, just to name a few.
I even remember the games and final scores, even though deep down I could have cared less.
Game 1 against Boston was Tuesday May 7th, 1974. I never before saw an ice hockey game. Although there were fights, in my opinion, they weren’t as good as roller games’ fights.
At the time, I mistakenly thought that roller games and professional wrestling were 100 percent real.
When the Flyers lost game 1 with a 3 - 2 score, I knew I was supposed to be upset because everyone at Merion School seemed to be.
Then Thursday May 9th, 1974, the Flyers won in overtime 3-2, and that meant it was time to be happy and excited.
The Flyers won game 3 Sunday, May 12, 1974, 4-1. On Tuesday, May 14, 1974, the Flyers won game 4, 4-2.
The Flyers lost game 5, with a 5-1 score, Thursday May 16, 1974.
Finally, game 6 took place Sunday May 19 1974 at the Philadelphia Spectrum. The Flyers won game 6, 1 to 0, and the Stanley Cup was now theirs.
Pandemonium broke loose. People were streaking and honking horns.
The Flyers’ battle was over but not my battle. I was getting tired of worrying about whether or not classmates would either continue to feel sorry for me or start beating me up.
My anxiety was worsening.
My way of dealing with it was by mentally escaping into the world of roller games. Now, the Philadelphia Warriors was the only thing in the world that mattered to me. I slowly developed a one-track mind. Actually, that’s not totally true. There were times I’d change the subject to professional wrestling. That year, I taped the roller game half-time interviews where the skaters “argued” and “fought with each other.”
I listened to those interviews over and over and over again every day of the week. During that time, I rarely listened to music. The roller game half time interviews were “more important.”
People told me that I was boring, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to be part of the real world anymore. The roller game world was better. In the world of roller games, no one would beat me up anymore, I’d be free of my family. Now I could think about things that truly mattered: Would the Warriors win the Gold Cup? (They did on Sunday August 4, 1974, when they beat the New York Chiefs in Madison Square Garden, 83-80.)
I had other things to be concerned about; for example, in 1974, one of the roller game storylines centered around the “evil” Dave Pound and his plans to destroy the Warrior team. I refused to believe it was just a storyline. I thought he truly wanted to wreck the Warriors.
Something good did come out of my obsessions.
I was no longer scared of getting beaten up. My roller game and wrestling heroes scratched people in the eyes, so I now kept my nails long ready to finally defend myself, which I did. I fought like a girl, but it was better than getting beaten up. I was finally a 10-year-old with courage. In that respect, roller games saved my life.
These memories recently surfaced because it was 50 years ago this month that the Philadelphia Flyers won the Stanley Cup for the first time.