Today, November 11th, is the 22nd anniversary of the death of my hero, Pelle Lindbergh. Lindbergh was a Swedish goalie who played on the Flyers from 83-85, when I was a young teen and Flyers hockey consumed my life. I'll never forget the day he died; he got drunk and crashed his Porsche into a brick wall at a high rate of speed. They had to keep him on life support until his parents could arrive from Sweden to say their final goodbyes. Nobody could believe what was actually happening. It fucking CRUSHED me as a boy and I still think about it quite often. What a tremendous goalie he was, just brilliant. I fucking cried my eyes out that day, have tears in my eyes right now, and will raise a glass to him today when watching the Eagles game. Thanks for the memories, Pelle, but my God dude, you died wayyyyyyy too young. Rest in peace. :(
