It sucked when the Caps lost Game 7 at home, in overtime. They were up 1, tied, down 1, then tied at the end of the 2nd. There were no penalty calls for about 30 minutes, from a little over midway in the 2nd through 4 minutes into OT. Overtime is absolute victory or defeat; taking a penalty in overtime is almost certainly defeat. And that’s the way it shook out.
After the “aw, fuck!” silence from the stunned (and previously-deafening) crowd, we all stood up and gave the team an ovation.
Then the trash started raining down onto the ice. It was embarrassing. There’s even a clip of a Jeff Carter post-game, on-ice interview where he gets hit by a plastic beer bottle from the stands. As a Caps fan, I was pissed they lost to the Fuckin’ Flyers. But, as a Caps fan whose knuckles can clear a curb, I was more pissed at my “peers”.
Even worse, the guy who sits in row E (right in front of us) was in attendance with his young daughter, aged around 12 or 13. After the Flyers’ series-winning goal, a young boy about the same age as the aforementioned daughter ran to the glass in his Flyers jersey to celebrate. Row E guy then side-armed his empty beer cup at the overjoyed pre-teen, and kicked (hard!) the seats in row D. He’s normally a pretty nice guy, but his display last night takes him down multiple notches in my book. He was just a happy kid rooting for the other team, not a target for your anger, fuckhead.
The Caps fans weren’t any better outside the arena. Erin said she was on-edge as we walked around Verizon center, due to the density of very drunk, very angry red-clad assholes gushing obscenities at the minority wearing black and orange. I’ve never been to a live game of any sport in Philly, but I can only imagine last night’s bullshit was on par with some of the horror stories bandied about the city of brotherly love.