The Florida Panthers Spanked The Oilers And Stole Their Song!

It’s been three days since the Cats went back to back in the Stanley Cup Finals, and my FOMO is somehow getting worse by the hour. Every day the parties get bigger, the clips get crazier, and I’m still stuck in Chicago until tomorrow. Watching the back to back champs light it up in my old stomping grounds brings me a twisted mix of joy and soul crushing sadness. I’m proud. I’m pumped. But I’m also borderline depressed that I’m not there to celebrate it with them.

But none of that compare to what went down last night. The boys, our fucking Florida Panthers, hit Miami’s crown jewel of nightclubs: E11EVEN. And my god, it was cinema. Shit that could make a grown man cry.

You had Big Ceaz shirtless on stage getting baptized in champagne like it was last years game 7 win at home. Sam Bennett was blacked out, delivering the most accurate Wolf of Wall Street impression I’ve ever seen, screaming, “I’m not fucking leaving!” And he meant it. Now, I will say I’ll believe it when I see the pen to paper because I can tell you first hand it’s easy to say some crazy shit when you’re 40 beers deep at E11EVEN. 

Then there was Brad Marchand, aura farming his ass off. Say what you want about the guy, but holy shit is he electric. He’s a beautiful son of a bitch and a hell of a hockey player. It was actually kind of poetic to see him soaking up every ounce of love from the fanbase who once hated him. Our old enemy has become the hero and I’m loving every second of it. 

But the moment of the night? No question. Marchand crowd surfing while holding the fucking Stanley Cup over his head as Pink Pony Club played. If you know anything about Ryan Whitney, you know that song is his baby. His anthem. The soundtrack for him and his beloved Little Oilers. And now? We own it. Not only did we beat them on the ice, we took their song, too. Ripped it right from their cold, northern heartbroken hands and played it as our victory hymn.

South Florida has been partying like it’s Spring Break on steroids, and honestly, it makes me so happy. I’m so glad the players are embracing the madness because really, why would you want to play anywhere else? Where else are you popping bottles in strip clubs with NHL legends while the Cup crowd surfs to indie pop bangers? Nowhere. That’s the answer.

Say what you want about our fanbase, bandwagon or diehard, but there’s one thing you can’t deny: South Florida knows how to fucking party. See you at the parade on Sunday.

Let’s keep this thing rolling.