Looking through the 2006 Hockey Heroes calendar of a coworker, I recently came across a picture of Bob Clarke celebrating a goal during the 1976 game against the Red Army. And there, beyond Clarke's outstretched arms, in the second row, were my parents, frozen in time with their arms in the air and smiles on their faces.
Every Flyers fan knows what transpired that day and how relevant it was both socially and politically. Growing up, my parents spoke about that game as much as they did seeing the Flyers win the Cup. Exactly thirty years later, it's something that deserves to be revisited.
January 11, 1976. It was the height of the Cold War, the Miracle on Ice was still 4 years away, and the Soviet hockey team was still very much seen as the best hockey team in the world. Soviet players, at that point, did not play in the NHL which meant that their national team was more solid and cohesive a unit than any country had. In 1976, the Soviet team came to the US to play a handful of the best NHL teams in a series of games known as
Super Series '76. The last of those games pitted the Soviets against the Philadelphia Flyers, who were coming off two straight Stanley Cup championships and were unquestionably the best team in the NHL. The Red Army team played a finesse game, a contradiction to the physical style played by the Flyers, known then as the Broad Street Bullies. Given the two opposing styles of play, the aforementioned Cold War, and the teams' reputations as the best in their respective leagues, it was guaranteed to be a showdown.
Tensions were high as fans made their way to the game, given the political climate at the time, and though Flyers fans respected the Soviets as hockey players, there was a general hatred for anything associated with the Soviet Union.
As one of the many stories about that day goes, Flyers owner Ed Snider spoke to both teams at a luncheon before the game, and had planned to end his speech with a Russian phrase which means
best of luck. After spending a great deal of time to learn the phrase, Snider never used it. "I didn't forget it," he said afterward. "It's just that I looked at those cold son-of-a-bitches and I couldn't."
When the puck was dropped, every seat at The Spectrum in Philadelphia was filled, including seats 11 and 12 on row 2 in section N, where my parents sat, and where I sat exactly 10 years later for my very first hockey game. According to my parents, the tension that filled the arena that day was unlike that which accompanies a Stanley Cup Final game. "The Cup Finals were tense, but they were a game. This felt like war," my mom still says. Former Flyer Bob Kelly echoed that sentiment when talking about the game a few years ago: "It was like we were playing for all of North America."
Halfway through the first period, the Flyers led the Red Army team 12-1 in shots, but were unable to capitalize. Then, at 11:21, Flyers' defenseman Ed Van Impe checked Army forward Valeri Kharlamov, and history was made. When no penalty was called, the Soviets, not used to such physicality, left the ice in protest.
They remained in their locker room for 16 minutes. Army coach Konstantin Loktev felt that the Flyers were intentionally trying to injure his players. Shortly after Flyers owner Ed Snider warned the Red Army team that they would forfeit their $200,000 paycheck by refusing to finish the game, the Soviets returned to the ice.
Thirty seconds after the puck dropped, Reggie Leach deflected a shot past Army goalie Vladislav Tretiak on the power play for a 1-0 lead, and the Flyers never looked back. Rick MacLeish made it 2-0 late in the first, and a shorthanded goal by Joe Watson made it 3-0 in the second. The Red Army rallied for a score in the second, but the Flyers dominated the Soviets in the third and capped off the scoring with Larry Goodenough's power play goal in the third. The Flyers won the game by a final of 4-1, and dominated the Soviets 49-13 in shots. As the Red Army team quickly skated off the ice, my parents and those seated near them celebrated as one of the fans, a guy I still see at games today, held up a sign that read "Tell It To The Czar."
Though much has changed politically and geographically, there's no denying the impact that game had on the NHL and hockey fans everywhere. As Tim Burke wrote in the Montreal Gazette, "The Flyers salvage Canada's pride in her nation's sport with a near perfect hockey masterpiece. It came as a glorious finale to Super Series '76. It was one of the most remarkable displays of preparedness, discipline, and unflappability in the annals of sport and it elevated Flyers' Coach Fred Shero's systematic approach to the game beyond question." In the same newspaper, Red Fisher wrote, "Their best was unable to beat our best."
In 1988-1989, Sergei Priakin joined the Calgary Flames, becoming the first Soviet to play in the NHL. The Flyers became the first team to draft a Soviet player when they took Viktor Khatulev with their 7th pick in the 1975 NHL Amateur Draft, but he never ended up playing in the NHL, as was the case with so many other Soviet draftees. These days, its hard to imagine the league without Russian players, as they've helped to completely change the style of NHL hockey. Their brand of fast-paced, skilled hockey combined with North American physicality have been combined for a much more well-rounded style of play.
The Flyers, despite having drafted a Russian in the mid-70s, were known in the 80s and early 90s as a franchise that harbored some very unfriendly feelings towards the Russians. This can be attributed to Flyers General Manager Bob Clarke, the team's former star player who, with vicious stickwork, broke the ankle of Soviet star Valeri Kharlamov during the '72 Summit Series. Clarke refused for years to sign Russian players, and much of the Flyers front office, then made up of several members of the 1976 team, backed him. In 1991, the Flyers signed Andrei Lomakin, the team's first Russian player, but those close to the team, like Ed Van Impe, admitted that they were "not totally comfortable with it." Two years later, Lomakin was gone, and for the next several years, Clarke seemingly struggled with his desire to build a competitive team and his aversion to Russian-born players. In 1997, the Flyers lost in the Stanley Cup Finals to the Russian-loaded Detroit Red Wings in 4 straight games. Many will argue that this turn of events proved to Clarke that an acceptance of Russian players was necessary for success in the NHL.
Now, 18 years after Russians joined the NHL, the league's top scorers have names like Kovalchuk and Ovechkin, and it's hard to believe that something like the
Super Series could have occurred just 30 years ago.
