It’s May of 1987. I’m in my mid-teens. I’m in my room. I lie in my bed. The door is shut. The lights are out. I’m not surly. I’m not dreaming of a girl. I simply want to be alone. To focus.
I can’t take my eyes off of my 13-inch t.v. On the screen is the Stanley Cup. And the Philadelphia Flyers are facing the Edmonton Oilers.
The Flyers are a talented team. They were in the Stanley Cup two years before and have won their division multiple years in a row. They have great players including Kerr (who is injured and unable to play during the Stanley Cup series), Propp, Poulin, Tocchett. Howe, Marsh, McCrimmon, Sutter (my favorite player whose jersey I’m wearing), and Hextall.
And then there’s the Oilers. They’ve won the cup two of the last three years (and will go on to win a few more). Their star players include Gretzky, Messier, Kurri, Coffey, Anderson, and Fuhr. Each of these players would eventually be made a member of the NHL Hall of Fame (only Howe made it for the Flyers).