It was a day of sheer, giddy, lustful triumph, a day to wipe out memories of all the decades of defeat. Down Broad and Chestnut streets wound the motorcade last week while some 2 million zealots, nearly half the population of metropolitan Philadelphia, screamed with delight, threw confetti and fought with sweating cops to get close to their heroes. The Philadelphia Flyers had just won the Stanley Cup, symbol of supremacy in pro hockey, by destroying the Boston Bruins with un-Quakerlike ferocity, and the city had spontaneously taken Monday off to celebrate....
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