Kovacevic: A city beautifully rebonds with its beloved hockey franchise

Oh, Tristan Jarry heard it, all right.

They all heard it.

It was the second period of what wound up a wonderful win for the Penguins, 5-2 over the archrival Flyers, on a Tuesday night that saw the first fans allowed into PPG Paints Arena in 359 days, an unthinkable absence of missed games, missed goals, missed chances for family and friends to hug and high-five over their favorite team.

And in that second period, Jarry did this terrible thing to Philadelphia's James van Riemsdyk:

JUSTIN K. ALLER / GETTY

The Flyers' James van Riemsdyk can't push a backhand rebound behind Tristan Jarry in the second period.

Generally, I'll illustrate a sequence like that with a video. But the still photo above, I think, freezes the moment more fittingly. Jarry slid right to left as only he can -- seriously, he's one of the NHL's slickest at that specific skill -- to turn a near-certain goal into a save-of-the-year candidate.

And with that came two equally jarring reverberations.

First, people cheered. Like, right away, not on a tape-delay out of some cyber-cannister.

Next, within seconds, some of those same people, conveniently in the upper deck behind Jarry where the better part of the state-mandated 15% max capacity crowd of 2,800 had been concentrated, began chanting.

'JAR-RY! JAR-RY! JAR-RY!'

And by the time play eventually drifted the other way, and the chant caught on across the scattered assembly -- a feat almost as impressive as what was being celebrated, considering there were barely a few fans per section -- I could swear I noticed Jarry tapping himself on the big leg pads, as if to embrace an actual atmosphere of actual appreciation.

Funny since he was the one, when struggling just a couple weeks back, who'd surprisingly conceded to me that part of what fed into his slow start to the season was the lack of crowds, the lack of that same overall vibe that surrounded his 2019-20 All-Star breakout.

Which is what I brought up with him once this was done, while also asking about his response to those upper-deck chants after stoning JVR:

That, my friends, was a yes. And that's also as close to giddy as one ever gets from Jarry. He was happy to see everyone. 

But not half as happy, I'm betting, as everyone was to see him.

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The game itself, even the outcome, was spectacularly secondary.

And I say that with all due respect to the Penguins overcoming the COVID protocol loss of Sidney Crosby earlier in the day, the lack of practice the previous day due to travel, the lack of a morning skate on this day, all the related worry that comes with wondering who or what might be next -- "You definitely think about it," Bryan Rust would acknowledge -- on top of facing a Philadelphia team fresh off three Ws in a row.

The outcome mattered. Kasperi Kapanen scoring twice, including a breakaway beauty, mattered. Evgeni Malkin yet again rising up in Crosby's absence mattered.

None of it touched the setting. At least not from this perspective.

Players come and go. Seasons come and go. Even rivalries as remarkably durable as this one can fade. 

But the one constant for any franchise, in particular an elite, championship-caliber one like the Penguins, is the relationship that's forged between city and franchise. And while that'd been tested at countless points since inception in 1967 -- two bankruptcies, IRS padlocking of the doors, rotating ownership and an opening quarter-century of mostly regrettable hockey -- there'd never been a separation like this.

From March 8, 2020, a 6-2 loss to the Hurricanes, to this night, nearly a full calendar year had elapsed between any human outreach from those who love the Penguins the most.

I'm not here to overstate that. Not in a broader setting where the coronavirus has killed more than half a million Americans, nearly 1,800 in Allegheny County alone. By comparison, sports barely qualify as a speck of dust.

In the same breath, I'm comfortable saying that sports, in our city, are part of who we are. And when we don't have them, for whatever reason, we lose an integral component of our identity. We aren't ourselves.

Are we a little weird like that?

Hey, whatever.

Be bold enough to admit that this is what mattered here:

DEJAN KOVACEVIC / DKPS

A parking lot operator and two merchandise vendors return to work on Fifth Avenue before the game.

JEANINE LEECH / GETTY

Fans pass through security and a health questionnaire before entering PPG Paints Arena from Centre Avenue.

JUSTIN K. ALLER / GETTY

Fans pass through concourses and escalators marked with warnings/directions on every level.

JEANINE LEECH / GETTY

Fans applaud the arrival of the Penguins for pregame warmups.

KEITH B. SRAKOCIC / AP

Fans erupt following Kasperi Kapanen's breakaway goal in the second period.

It didn't all go perfectly. Too many fans flouted the Penguins' clearly stated rules about wearing a mask at all times while indoors -- except when eating -- thus risking others' health as well as the opportunity to continue opening more businesses and activities. But there'll be idiots in every crowd and this one was never going to be some pristine exception. The team, too, continued to pump a low murmur of artificial crowd noise through the speakers that was unnecessary and, from what I heard from fans, very much unwanted. Also, that upper deck I cited appeared far too cramped on the concourse before faceoff and at intermissions. But the team and/or the NHL will have a learning curve all their own.

Ideally, this'll all get better even as we're all rolling up our sleeves.

But back to what mattered:

I try always to be honest in my writings. These messages and photos, which I'd sought out beforehand on social media, had me more than a little emotional. In awe of what we've all already endured and lost. In appreciation of what appears to be ahead. But really, I was just happy for everyone.

As I wrote to one longtime reader below, I recalled what it was like returning to PNC Park, then to Heinz Field last July, how moving it was to be inside both those places again. And that was after just four months of the pandemic. And, of course, it was to go to work, a passion in and of itself but not the same as the purity of supporting a favorite team.

I can't imagine what it was like for these folks. Or the ones who'll come Thursday or Saturday, most of whom I'm sure will have similar experiences.

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That road, as with the chanters and Jarry, runs both ways. Because -- and trust me here -- this team needs its fans.

Sure, the Penguins are now 8-1 at PPG Paints Arena, including 7-1 when nobody but this one super-loud security guard was cheering their goals. But intensive studies of home-team advantages in sports worldwide through this pandemic paint a stark picture of how very real they are: Plain and simple, fans make a difference. Vocal, visible support makes a difference.

For the team's staff and employees, some of whom had been furloughed or lost wages through this, there was uncommon joy.

About a half-hour before warmups, with barely a couple hundred folks in their seats, Ryan Mill, the team's PA announcer and figurative head of the long-dormant in-game entertainment department, spoke with uncharacteristic softness into his mic to say, "Hey, everyone, before we get started, just want to say welcome back. Glad you're here."

He then added, "By the way, you'll be expected to make the noise of 18,000 people tonight."

So, when the Flyers were first out for warmups and got greeted by boos, he again interjected on the mic, "Now that's what I'm talkin' about."

Awesome.

OK, now this is where I ask for play buttons to be pressed because the following videos require sound.

All set?

Cool, because when Kapanen crossed center red to create his breakaway, the crowd was audibly revved up even before his big burst through the Flyers' D, making for a buildup worthy of the finish itself:

His thoughts on doing so in front of sentient beings rather than cardboard cutouts?

"It was unbelievable," he recalled. "It's been a while since we played in front of fans, so, even though there was 2,800 tonight, it felt like there was 20,000. It was a great boost from them."

When Rust buried this rebound of a Kris Letang flick for the Penguins' third goal, the crowd roared right away:

No hesitation. No wondering why one guy has his arms raised and the rest are still gazing around. No goal horn being blared 10-12 seconds after the fact.

"It was nice," Rust answered when I brought that up. "Even just coming out for warmups and seeing how many people were already there, and then to come out there for the first period ... it was definitely a welcome change."

Heck, the most fun crowd reaction might've come when Mike Matheson coolly slammed home this 130-foot goal that crossed paths with poor Carter Hart bolting for the visitors' bench:

The reaction, naturally, was laughter.

And once it was done, we witnessed our first raising of the sticks by the Penguins to salute the crowd ...

EVAN SCHALL / PENGUINS

The Penguins gather around the center circle to raise sticks in a salute to the crowd.

... as well as the first live-in-person three-star twirls in nearly a year:

JUSTIN K. ALLER / GETTY

Tristan Jarry emerges from the runway after being named the game's No. 2 star.

Players, coaches and team executives across the sports world will be saying all kinds of sweet things about fan support in the days and weeks to come. Soon enough, it'll get stale. But I pushed to maybe get a little something more from Mike Sullivan, who's spoken so frequently about his team missing fan support that this felt like the right time.

He didn't disappoint.

"It creates the environment that we're all accustomed to, that we're all longing for, that we haven't had in quite a long time," he began. "To have some fans in the building, I know our players were fired up for it. And you get energy from it. I think our guys got some juice from the crowd. There's nothing better for a player than playing in front of a packed house. And our guys, quite honestly, are accustomed to that."

Great point. Almost as powerful as his next one.

"To have a semblance of normalcy, I think, was so welcome for all of us."

Yeah. That.

We're getting there. We are.