Alright, youse jagoffs, wake up and smell the coffee, or maybe the grease from a fresh Tony Luke's breakfast sandwich. Last night, the Philadelphia Flyers reminded the Washington Capitals what Broad Street hockey is all about, taking 'em down 4-1 at home. If you fell asleep before the final horn, you missed a clinic. We got a power play goal from Ryan Leonard for the Caps early in the first, and I was ready to throw my shoe at the TV, swear to God. But this ain't a team that quits, not these Philadelphia Flyers.
The second period, that's where the real jawn started. Travis Konecny, the kid's a beast, put one in off a beauty from Travis Sanheim and Atticus Bump. Then, the real hero, Trevor Zegras, slid one past their goalie from Owen Tippett and Carl Grundstrom. The momentum swung harder than a SEPTA bus turning on Broad Street. Third period, we sealed the deal. Jamie Drysdale, the young buck, got his off a feed from Noah Cates and Cam York, and then Tippett, the big man, buried an empty netter with help from Christian Dvorak and Cates again. Shots were even, 22-22, which tells you it was a grinder, just the way we like it.
What's it mean? It means the Philadelphia Flyers are sitting at 30-23-11, 71 points, fifth in the Metro, and still kicking it at Wildcard #5. We're on a win streak, 6-3-1 in our last ten, and every single one of those points is gold. We ain't just treading wooder; we're pushing. The mood in Philadelphia this morning? We're buzzing, ready for the next one. This team fights, and that's all we ever ask.
No one likes us — and we don't care. Mags, MiTL, Philadelphia.