September is upon us, which means we're just a few weeks away from Season 100 of the greatest show on ice.¹ Yes, the New York Rangers have been playing hockey in the heart of Manhattan ever since a Missourian-turned-cowboy named "Tex" brought them to life in 1926 by buying good ol' auntie Mae's car barn over there on Eighth Avenue (yes, you caught me, I did make up some of that last sentence...there was no auntie Mae). Cooler still is the fact that every moment of that existence has been under the storied roof of an arena called Madison Square Garden.²
The best comparison for a sports franchise that's been around this long is one gigantic, extended family. That's the type of bond built in fandom. Pair that with a home as famous as MSG and one thing is for certain. Game night at the Garden will make you feel something. So, as they prepare that horribly-kept slab of ice hovering above Penn Station once more, we're taking a look back at the first 25 years of this century to reminisce and ruminate about some of the most powerful moments on Broadway. Moments when we not only remember what happened, but how we felt as well. aren't just ones where we remember what happened, they're moments where we remember how we felt.
SURPRISE
Marek's Magic Trick
'Surprise' is a gateway emotion in sports fandom. In the real world, a person reacts directly to being surprised. In the stands, a fan reacts by proxy because the person actually being surprised is playing in the game. In that case, the only thing a fan can do is emote some more. In these circumstances especially, 'surprise' also acts as an amplifier to the follow-up emotion. If the surprise makes you happy, happiness turns into elation. If it makes you sad, sadness becomes despair. This also makes it harder to forget, for better or for worse.
For any Rangers fans reading, allow me to demonstrate. Close your eyes and think of the first memory that pops into your head when I combine the words 'surprise' and 'shootout.' Got it? Okay, open your eyes.
Is this your card:
Of course it is. Marek Malik played just three seasons in New York, none of which were memorable in any shape or form, except for this 15th round shootout clincher against the Washington Capitals back in November, 2005. Just weeks after returning to the ice following hockey's lost lockout year, the shootout was a newly-implemented feature aimed at eliminating boring regular season ties and spicing up the end of games. So, when Malik got the call only after 80% of the team had gotten a shot first, the 6'6" Czech maniac delivered a dish hot enough to pop MSG's top.
FEAR
Lundqvist Goes Down
Fear is a weird sports emotion, because when we reference 'fear' we're not really talking about 'fear' in the pure sense. You're not in any real danger at a sporting event (or at least you shouldn't be). You're not even in any fake danger like you might be made to feel watching a horror movie or a riding a roller coaster. And yet we've all felt afraid watching sports at times. Again, the reason can be traced back to that familial bond we build with our favorite teams. The players on your team are simultaneously complete strangers to you and as familiar as a loved-one. Its paradoxical nature can be a difficult pill to swallow when things like this happen:
To a teenage Rangers fan living in 2015, watching Henrik Lundqvist collapse after taking a puck to the throat might feel like witnessing Superman felled by kryptonite. That's real fear and there's no shame or embarrassment in caring about those who inspire most. Because Henrik Lundqvist might've actually been Superman, he eased that anxiety quickly following the incident, getting back up and refusing to leave the game despite later being diagnosed with a "sprained blood vessel" in his throat which could've caused a stroke. It's scary and horrible but also- to that teen Rangers fan- a signal from Lundqvist himself that he feels that familial bond strongly enough to put his well-being on the line.
ANGER
Tom Wilson Must Go
Emotion runs along a simple spectrum in sports fandom. There's just good and evil. Yin and yang. Ones and zeroes. And everyone is convinced they're the 'ones.' It's why sports are so enduring across human history. Everyone wants to feel part of a tribe. That's all great when we're talking about building one big happy family, but when it comes to everyone outside of that family?
Being part of a tribe means occasionally getting...well...tribal. And the fuel of tribalism is anger. That's why sports fans love to hate a good villain. Just as a team collectively chooses its captain, a fanbase collectively anoints villains on rivaling teams. They become avatars of annoyance. Oftentimes, villains develop naturally. The Penguins' Sidney Crosby was always going to be public enemy #1 in New York before he ever even stepped foot in the Garden. That's just the way the world works. Most villains don't choose to be villains. I'm sure Sidney Crosby is a perfectly fine human being. It usually isn't personal...
...usually. As the saying goes, "you either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become Tom Wilson," and Wilson is truly The Joker. A special type of villain who does objectively awful things but seems genuinely convinced they're on the side of the light. Wilson's antics are myriad. Few players in modern history have drawn so much ire across the league, but he holds a very special place outside of Rangers fans' hearts for dirty plays like the one he pulled on Artemi Panarin near the end of the 2020-'21 season. In Wilson's case, it isn't just a fans thing, either.
This happened just days later in direct response to Wilson's B.S. A full line brawl... and Tom Wilson wasn't even on the ice.
DISGUST
The 'Whiff' Heard 'Round The World
Disgust is a unique emotion in sports fandom because it's tough to identify if you aren't a fan yourself. Any given game, you'll likely overhear someone at some point say something like, "that's disgusting," but don't be fooled. They're not disgusted. That's not what disgusted sports fans say. In fact, disgusted sports fans don't say much of anything. Identifying a disgusted fan is an entirely visual endeavor. Look for things like:
- Hands clasped on head.
- Face scrunched like they just drank a full glass of six-month-old milk.
- Appearing engaged in a tense conversation with themself
Tom Wilson might be a master of mad-ness, but Rangers fans under 40 are revolutionaries of revulsion. Other fanbases merely adopted disgust. Rangers fans were born in it. Molded by it. Good ol' "Tex" Rickard bonded the first bricks for Madison Square Garden with highly concentrated 'disgust,' using freemason magic³ and one of the biggest bricks lain in its hallowed halls came in June of 2022. The bricklayer? Ryan Strome (the :50 mark of the video below).⁴
Ryan Strome is like that best friend from middle school who you grew apart from after 10th grade. You remember him vaguely but fondly for some reason. You might even get a little wistful on days when you're feeling a little more lonely than usual. Then you remember that one time he stuffed a bunch of fireworks in his own mailbox and then blamed it on you when his parents found a pile of smoldering mail.
Screw that guy.
HAPPINESS
"Stepan! In Overtime!"
Why do I do this to myself?
Every fan who has ever fallen in love with a team has asked themself that question at some point. Usually after a moment like the previous one. It's a genuine question, too. Hockey is a silly game. All sports are silly games. So, why do we choose to participate in an activity that offers no tangible benefit in our everyday lives, but has the capability to inflict very tangible, emotional pain?
That's why.
Sports dogma preaches equilibrium. It’s just science, really. For every emotion there is an equal and opposite emotion. Where there is pain, there is pleasure. Where there is love, there is hate. Where there is despair, there is euphoria. In other words, it's worth enduring Ryan Strome's whiff for a chance to experience something like Derek Stepan's overtime winner in Game 7 of the 2015 Eastern Conference Semifinals.⁵ Critics of sports fandom often say something like, "the lowest lows always stick with fans longer than the highs." Those critics are mistaken. I think about this moment more than just about any over the past quarter-century. I've watched clips of it countless times and can recall every aspect of the moment like I can recall the lyrics to my favorite songs. That's because every aspect of such a moment brings me joy even now just writing about it. I love it so much that I prefer watching an extended clip of it, so I can see the subtle anxiety on the faces of the coaches before the faceoff. I can listen to a truly stunning call by legendary broadcaster Doc Emerick, who delivers a monologue in the lead-up that's right out of a sports movie. I can feel the chills each time I hear that unique roar from the crowd after Stepan buries it. I don't ever remember hearing a crowd pop like that and yet I'm somehow certain I know exactly what it was like to be there in that moment. The connection is there, even if it's too difficult to articulate. This is why we do it. There will be more moments like it in our future, even if it doesn't feel like it now.
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Footnotes
1. '...the greatest show on ice on Broadway,' at least
2. MSG III and MSG IV to be exact
3. Purportedly
4. Remember Andrew Copp? Here was his 16-game regular season career slash line for goals/assists/points: 8/10/18
5. One of my 'Why do I do this to myself?' moments came minutes before the end of this game, sitting alone at a bar in Bushwick and deciding about halfway through overtime that- if the game ended up in a second overtime- I'd have to listen to the rest on the radio in my car, because I'd be too weak to actually watch with my eyes any longer.