Confessions of a Raging Cynic

It's trite and cliche, but, in my case, it happens to be true. The old saying,
"A pessimist is just an optimist who got his feelings hurt," definitely
applies to me when looking at the 2006-2007 Philadelphia Flyers.

I've acquired a reputation as "Negative Bob" amongst my fellow Phanatic
colleagues because of my pull-no-punches and avoid-all-compliment nature when
discussing most aspects of sports and life.

But if technology exists to make Joe Lunardi look taller, sound less grating
and appear less stocky on television than he is in real life, there must be
hope for me.

The phenomenon has happened once before, during the 1995 lockout season.
When the team opened up the year at 3-6-1, after five straight years out of
the playoffs, I was poised to watch games with nothing more than a winter-long
version of bitter-beer face.

Even after the big Recchi-LeClair-Desjardins trade, the rise from last to
first, and the clinching of a playoff spot and division title in back-to-back
games in late April, I was still unconvinced.

All it took then at the ripe young age of 17 to relax and let the Kool-Aid
slide down the gullet was a few thrilling overtime playoff wins and I was
hooked for the next 10 years. However, 12 years later, after weathering a
cancelled campaign, another first-round playoff failure and the worst regular
season in franchise history, it's not so easy to repair that Flying P logo-
shaped wound on my heart.

The thing is, I don't want to act and think so cynically -- it just comes so
easy. It's fun to paint a very vivid, sarcastic picture of events as they
happen, especially this season when the misfortune has been so dire, bizarre
and unrelenting.

But that's all changed now, because I'm going to slap on the Happy Helmet and
drink a pitcher full of orange-flavored positivity and a magical
transformation should take place.

Forget about losing four of four to the Panthers, Todd Fedoruk doing his best
Gerry Cooney imitation, or the league's lowest point total. In honor of the
Flyers' four-game sweep over playoff-bound Atlanta, I'm going to profess my
undying love for the team and express unbridled hope for the future.

So, here goes...

Ahhhh...it feels so good when it hits your lips....

...I see so very clearly now...

Simon Gagne? Every single shift he takes erases the memory of Tim Kerr and
John LeClair.

Martin Biron? The second coming of the first arrival of Ron Hextall!

Peter Forsberg? Nobody could ever accuse him of Hamlet-like tendencies. A
solid, resolute star player through and through. He's not hurting, he's just
resting so he'll be 100 percent ready when he comes back next season.

Derian Hatcher? A speedy transitional skater and stone wall on defense...he's
the guy to teach the young kids how to make it in the new NHL. Why didn't he
use that sniper's touch around the net more often??

Geoff Sanderson? Pelle Eklund ring a bell?

Scottie Upshall? Who cares if he's hurt, the ladies love him! And ladies bring
boyfriends, who bring buddies, who buy season tickets and fill the upper
levels!

Mike Richards and Jeff Carter? Peter Zezel, Murray Craven, and both Sutter
brothers all rolled into two. The focus they display on the ice at all times
is something the kids should emulate.

Janne Niinimaa - how can I forget the Finnish Flash? He's handling both ends
of the ice so adeptly these days, it's hard to believe he ever did well under
the abrasive Ken Hitchcock.

John Stevens? A mastermind. A champion. I can't imagine he's ever going to be
outcoached. He speaks not but golden nuggets of wisdom at all times.

Paul Holmgren - I just wanna shake your hand, sir. As I stare into those cold
Nordic brown eyes and see that squared and tensed jaw, it is soothing to know
the Flyers will get back on the Cup-winning track by splurging in free agency
come July.

The future's so bright, I gotta wear shades. Shades I'll be wearing next June
on that sunny day when the Stanley Cup parade happens. In fact, let me go stake out a spot at Broad and Oregon in preparation. You're all welcome to come along -- I have enough juice to last us the season.