Originally published in October, 2024
A quintessential underdog — exhibiting heart, passion, and flashes of brilliance — is quietly building a legacy in South Phill
When you’re a city with a reputation for being a tough, scrappy underdog with a chip on your shoulder, finding yourself as the team to beat can be disorienting. Philadelphia has never been one of the big dogs. No legacy of championship eras here. We’ve never been the San Francisco 49ers of the 80s and 90s, or the Yankees with 27 World Series titles to their name. No one has ever mistaken us for “America’s Team.” We’re Philly. We’re lucky if all our players are out on bail in time for the game.
Even when we win, which we’ve done occasionally, it’s been unexpected and surprising. We’re uncomfortable as the favorites, suspicious about outside praise, skeptical about glib braggadocio, and anxious in the national limelight. It’s why it’s been so stressful to be a Philly sports fan lately. Our teams don’t suck. They’re actually good. Often, they’re the odds-on favorites. So now, we expect them to win, and when they don’t, we’re devastated. Which is why I’ve been slowly developing an interest in our least heralded team, our last remaining underdog: the Philadelphia Flyers.
The Flyers came into existence as part of the NHL’s expansion in 1967 and, by 1972, had garnered the nickname “The Broad Street Bullies,” a moniker coined by a local Philadelphia sports writer to describe their rough and tumble ways. It’s been years since the Flyers have been any good, let alone competed for the Stanley Cup, but the reputation has remained in the hearts of Philly fans ever since. It’s the team we remember fondly, even if we don’t remember them personally. It’s the team we wish we had.
Philly would always rather be the Charlestown Chiefs, the fictional team from the movie “Slapshot,” than the one that wins with grace and finesse. Keep the Wayne Gretzky’s of the world, and give us the Hanson brothers. Fun for the whole family.
For me, I guess this all started when the Philadelphia Phillies shit the bed again this year after such a promising season; a season the city had collectively assumed would conclude with a parade. After the third year in a row of nearly grabbing the brass ring, it was not to be. Once again, it was not our year.
Neither would the Philadelphia Eagles likely be hoisting a Super Bowl trophy this year, or anytime soon, after a disappointing start following a disastrous season-ending collapse. But now that I think about it, it may have started all the way back in 2018 with the introduction of Gritty. Of course, I had no idea at the time. No one did.
In 2016, the Flyers marketing department attended a mascot event at the NHL All-Star Game and realized they were missing out on a lot of marketing opportunities and community engagement, given that they were only one of two NHL teams without a mascot. They’d tried it briefly in ‘67 with a mascot named Slapshot, but it didn’t take. The fans weren’t buying it.
In 2018, the world was introduced to the Flyers’ new mascot. His name was Gritty, and according to the team, had been discovered secretly living under the Wells Fargo Center bleachers. He was an orange monster with weird googly eyes that didn’t blink, an unkempt beard, and a Flyers uniform. Ironically, or perhaps intentionally, he couldn’t skate for shit.
I can’t believe it’s already been six years, as it seems like only yesterday that the entire city was appalled by the emergence of this disgusting creature. We thought it was some kind of cruel joke. Who came up with this embarrassment, and why foist it on us? We didn’t have enough to overcome? Then, the rest of the country started making fun of Gritty, and that was it. Philadelphia immediately embraced him as one of our own.
Initially, maybe we just didn’t want to see how the rest of the country saw us because, like it or not, Gritty was Philly. At first, it was enough that other people didn’t like him. Then his character began to come through, and we fell in love. He was like a drunk uncle who’d passed out in a dumpster and showed up to your high school graduation smelling of bourbon and cigars. He might have been a drunk uncle, but he was our drunk uncle. Only we get to talk shit about the family.
It helped that Gritty was neither warm nor cuddly, but a bit antagonistic and rough around the edges. Gritty was known to push kids and slap opposing fans. He was like the physical manifestation of the Philadelphia spirit. Rowdy, passionate, and a bit uncouth. There was no doubt that if it came to blows, Gritty would be coming in over the top.
To borrow an old ditty sung to the tune of My Darling Clementine, “No one likes. No one likes us. No one likes us, we don’t care. We’re from Philly, fucking Philly, no one likes us, we don’t care.”
Honestly, I hadn’t paid any attention to the Flyers since Eric Lindross was with the team way back in the 80s and 90s. They had become perpetual losers, and not worth watching. In the aftermath of the Phillies collapse this year, I began seeing headlines that promised a small glimmer of hope. It was nothing as dramatic as heralding a new championship team. It was much more subtle and low-key. A light at the end of the tunnel.
There was a new head coach named Tortorella, who had found success developing other programs, and he was in his third year, historically his breakout year. There was a 19-year-old Russian phenom named Michkov, who had arrived two years earlier than expected, plus a few other young players who showed great promise. Finally, this was a team with a future.
For the first time in a long time, there was a buzz about the Flyers. Everyone from the GM to the team president to the coaches kept reiterating that it was too soon to be talking about the playoffs. The team wasn’t there yet. There was still a lot of work to be done and patience would be required. But the excitement was there. There was hope, and as any Philly fan will tell you, it’s the hope that kills you.
When you’re at the bottom looking up, every win is a gift, an unexpected surprise. Your expectations remain low as you watch young players develop and a team come together. It’s like watching Richmond of Ted Lasso fame. They really shouldn’t win, so it’s all the more exciting when they do. But what if they keep winning? How far can they go?
I look at it like an opportunity to watch a team grow into its own, to be in on the ground floor of a new era. To be able to say, I started watching the Flyers again before they were great. But mostly, it’s an opportunity to watch a team without the pressure of needing to win every game. A chance to get reacquainted with the sport, learn who the players are, rediscover the rivalries, see who the heroes are and, likewise, the villains. With the Flyers, I have no emotional baggage to weigh me down. I can tune in and appreciate the game without all the added stress of expectations.
Plus, there’s Gritty, and there’s no telling what that googly-eyed, orange motherfucker will do. You just have to tune in and see what happens.
That’s Philly for you.