It was 6-5 Hawks with five minutes to go when I left the house and went on a massive several-mile walk to see my buddy play drums with the Blues Busters at a watering hole in the nearby Historic Townsite of Powell River. So at this writing, I don’t even know how the game ended up.
All I know is, Flyers goalie Michael Leighton, who stoned the Habs with three shutouts in that series, was pulled in the second period of this game one when the Hawks scored the fifth time, and Antti Niemi in goal for Chicago wasn’t any better.
It’s slightly difficult for me to babble on about teams other than the Habs because frankly, I have no affection for any team in the league and I don’t think I’ve ever chosen one over another in a playoff battle that the Habs weren’t part of.
I don’t care at all that Chicago is an original six team. Hell, when the Hawks beat Montreal in 1961 I could barely stand it and wished Bobby Hull, Stan Mikita, Ken Wharram, Pierre Pilote and the rest would just go away and never come back.
And the Flyers? The only thing that makes me smile about Philadelphia is the time Mike Williamson and I, on our way to the Atlantic City Pop Festival in 1969, climbed an outside set of stairs at Philadelphia City Hall and smoked a joint at the top. Otherwise, forget about it. Everyone from the sign man to Kate Smith to the original Broad St. Bullies and Sylvester Stallone.
Whoever wins, fine. Wouldn’t mind seeing some good fights, though.