How the Philadelphia Flyers sabotaged their own Pride Night

What do the Philadelphia Flyers think about hosting Pride Night?

We’ll start with the canned answer, submitted to Daily Faceoff Tuesday evening in a statement reacting to the news that defenseman Ivan Provorov refused to wear a Pride jersey during the pre-game warmup on the grounds of his Russian Orthodox religious beliefs.

“The Philadelphia Flyers organization is committed to inclusivity and is proud to support the LGBTQ+ community. Many of our players are active in their support of local LGBTQ+ organizations, and we were proud to host our annual Pride Night again this year. The Flyers will continue to be strong advocates for inclusivity and the LGBTQ+ community.”

On paper, that’s what you want to see from an organization that has been, at least compared to many NHL franchises, committed to efforts promoting inclusivity (well, when not previously showcasing its ties to Chick-fil-A, whose ownership has funded Anti-Equity causes). Two of the Flyers’ more prominent players, James van Riemsdyk and Scott Laughton, have gone above and beyond empty gestures, working with You Can Play to provide tickets for 12 games this season, as just one example of their work.

But what transpired with Provorov Tuesday night sent a different message. Intentional or not, it contradicted everything the Flyers were supposedly attempting to promote. It made Pride Night look like a quick chore that merely checked a box to appease a marginalized segment of their fan base.

At its worst, such as when the St. Louis Blues embarrassingly hosted it for a road game in 2020, a team Pride Night can function as a performative shrug, accomplishing the bare minimum, celebrating the LGBTQ+ community for one night per season. Pride Tape on stick blades? Mission accomplished, box ticked, onto the next cause.

That was the between the lines message the Flyers sent by protecting Provorov Tuesday, as coach John Tortorella, who once famously trumpeted that he’d bench anyone who knelt during the national anthems, did when he claimed he “respected” Provorov for staying true to his beliefs. It’s the message the Flyers sent by allowing Provorov to reject Pride Night…then play 22 minutes and 45 seconds on Pride Night. It said, “We support you, LGBTQ+ community, but if one of our own rejects you…well, um, sorry. We have a hockey game to win. We pay him $6.75 million per year to help us do that. He has a right to make his living. So we have to make you priority No. 2 even though, um, we labelled this as our night to celebrate you and make you feel safe. So, have some popcorn and watch No. 9 skate around, even though he openly refuses to include you in the sport. This is awkward.”

Am I here to debate whether Provorov is entitled to his own beliefs, as much as I might scoff at the fact that a religion devoted to supposed benevolence chooses to exclude other human beings on the grounds of their sexual orientation? No. I’m not making the choice to bring religion into it. Nor am I accusing the Flyers of deliberately spitting in the faces of their LGBTQ+ fans. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, regardless of whether that was the franchise’s intention.

“Before the game, the Flyers will host a pre-game skate for local LGBTQ+ youth and officers from the Greater Philadelphia G.O.A.L organization,” said the franchise in a promotional statement leading up to their Pride Night. “G.O.A.L.’s mission is to advocate for and on behalf of LGBTQ+ first responders and military members, help educate first responders in LGBTQ+ competency, and provide community outreach to advance relations between the LGBTQ+ public and first responder agencies.”

How would those local youth and military feel knowing one of the Flyers said “No way” to the very idea of being queer and yet still took the ice to play on a night supposedly celebrating inclusivity?

Provorov has a right to make a living, of course. Nowhere in his job description does it say he must to incorporate politics into his career. But here’s the thing: He did. And so did the Flyers. Provorov decided wearing a rainbow jersey for a few minutes was just too much. Meanwhile, the Flyers dedicated a night of their schedule to Pride. Both parties drew opposing lines in the sand. The Flyers said, “Welcome, LGBTQ+ community,” while he spurned everything that Pride Night stands for. OK, fine. His choice. But if you don’t support Pride Night, don’t play on Pride Night. You can’t have your cake and eat it too.

The moment Provorov took the ice, before a crowd that likely had a higher concentration of LGBTQ+ fans than any other on the schedule, it nuked the idea that the Flyers took their own Pride Night remotely seriously. By playing him, they sabotaged themselves. It exposed Pride Night as, essentially, a warmup with some proceeds going to charity. The moment that box was ticked, it was fair game to bring Provorov back. Sorry, hockey to play, games to win, money to make.

And therein lies the problem with events such as Pride Nights. As one step toward more meaningful pursuits, such as promoting actual inclusivity and educating athletes on things like conformity, the language they use and how that creates an unsafe environment for queer athletes? Pride Nights can serve as part of a larger campaign that might do some good. But, too often, the Pride Night is the beginning and the end, the one contribution a franchise makes to the cause. Letting Provorov play is akin to saying, “OK, I did the nice thing. Can I go now?”

And the saddest part of this is: the Flyers probably feel they do care about Pride. At least compared to some other franchises, they’ve made some visible efforts to promote inclusivity. But allowing Provorov to play undid that.