Brothers Niall and Ian Conroy, who came to New York from Tipperary, Ireland, have been Rangers fans for decades, even before they bought Mustang Harry’s, a bar just a few blocks from Madison Square Garden, that has been the gathering place of New York Rangers fans since 1995.
For the Conroys, their love of the team matches their adoration of the fans. “It’s their grit,” Naill says of the fanbase. “Their heart. There’s no quit in them.” Win or lose, the Rangers fans refuse to give up. Ian agrees. “It’s passion. The Rangers fans are rabid.”
Last night, Game 6 of the Eastern Conference Finals, with the Florida Panthers leading the series 3-2, was a make-or-break night for the Rangers. It’s thirty long years since their last Stanley Cup, and the Rangers find themselves deep into the playoffs for the third year in a row. The fans lined the walls, filled the chairs, and covered every inch of the two-floor establishment.
Ted Kalamaras is the “CEO and host” of NYRfans.com and sells autographed photographs, pucks, and memorabilia at the bar. The Conroy brothers even put a plaque upstairs where he usually sets up his table, which reads “Ted’s Corner.”
“I love ‘em! I go to every home game!” When he couldn’t attend home games, he made a point of going to road games, making 17 road trips this year alone. That’s nothing. During COVID, he hosted over 800 FacebookLive and Zoom Rangers events, detailing games, players, and history. Ted grew up watching games broadcast in black and white and fell in love with the fast-paced action of hockey. He went to his first game when he was ten years old. To date, he has been a fan for 51 years.
He has been organizing signing events with former and current players for ten years, averaging about eight a year. “It’s my life…it’s what I live for. It’s my drug of choice. It’s my passion to make fans happy. It’s the best thing in the world.”
Making little paths through the walls of people, servers bustle through with trays of loaded nachos and hot wings and shots and beers as the puck drops to start the first period. A chant of “Let’s go Rangers” breaks out as the bartenders become mechanically moving, automated drink-pouring machines for the excited crowd. A waiter, wide-eyed and sweating profusely, leans against a wall. “It’s lively, it’s fun,” he says. “Hockey fans are the best fans, I’ll tell ya that. Compared to baseball, football, basketball fans- just the best.”
Chedrick and Kim recently moved to New York from Los Angeles. They already follow the Lakers and the Dodgers, but wanted to find a team on the east coast. “I wanted a sport to root for,” exclaims Chedrick. Then they found the Rangers. “It’s the history,” he says. “One of those classic teams like the Yankees and the Knicks! I wanted a New York team!” They say the Rangers, the fanbase, and a game at The Garden sealed the deal.
As the game progresses, the playoff excitement is overtaken by a constant, room-filling tension. The fans know tonight is the night they either survive or begin talking about next season. When the Panthers look close to scoring, the fans groan and screech, then cheer when their defense holds. When the Rangers look close to scoring but don’t, the cadence is reversed. Everyone is desperate for a goal, but it just won’t happen. It’s close miss after close miss for the Rangers. Then the Panthers score with 48.5 seconds left in the first period to groans and cries of “No! No!”
Russ has been the security guard at Mustang Harry’s for three years. He likes the Knicks, Yankees, and Rangers. “I’m for New York teams. If they play in New York, I’m for ‘em,” he laughs. Notable absent are the Mets and Nets. He’s followed the Rangers religiously since he was a kid. “I was brought up on the Rangers, with my family, with my friends.”
The second period begins, and the frustration of the Rangers being scoreless is building. Mark from Manhattan, a hardcore fan since the mid-80s, isn’t too worried. “They’re down one-nothing. They can come back. It’s an even game despite the score.” Christine from Belmar, New Jersey, isn’t worried either. “I’m hopeful,” she says. “It’s the best experience being a Ranger’s fan!”
Cassandra from Rhode Island is less optimistic. “Yes, I am worried! They’re not doing very well! They rely on Igor (Shesterkin, goalie) too much!” She loves the spirit of the fanbase and feels at home in the community more than she did with her hometown Boston Bruins.
Nick from Howard Beach is covered in hundreds of Rangers pins, flashing lights and scrolling bars of pre-programmed text affixed to his vest. Since 1972, he has rooted for the Rangers. “It’s part of my blood. I love the game, I love the team.” Nick has worn and built up this outfit for over 11 years. He estimates he is wearing about $2,000 of pins, lights, batteries, etc. He smiles ear to ear, flashes a confident thumbs up, and gets back to his table for the last minutes of the second period.
Alexis grew up at Rangers games. Her grandfather was the HVAC man at Madison Square Garden. As a girl, she skated on the rink and played hockey. Her earliest memory is of the Rangers winning the Stanley Cup in 1994. “We bleed blue,” she proclaims. “The Rangers are so much more than a sport that I love…it’s a hallmark of family and tradition. It represents home, belonging, and meaning.” And she is confident in her team. “I really feel like we’re going to win! I believe it! I bleed blue!”
With six minutes left in the third period, Florida scores again. A general feeling of dejection and desperation settles in. Heads go to hands; hands go over mouths, and expletives fly freely. And then, with two minutes to go in the game, the Rangers score. A two-story-high emotional explosion rocks the bar, and hope is revived. Tables are banged on, and a throaty chant of “Let’s go, Rangers” begins again. A minute-and-a-half remains. Tension and anxiety return as the possibility of tying it up at 2-2 is right there, and then it is over. Time runs down. The Rangers will not win the Stanley Cup this year.
A relative quiet falls over the bars. Some fans shuffle out; others remain in utter dejection and, by-proxy, pain, with spirits bottoming out and the dream over. Some hug, some order another round, and some leave with palpable head-hung-down sadness. Nick has tears in his eyes. “I’m feelin’ very empty,” he says. “Like my guts was ripped out.”
And yet there’s always next year. “Florida’s a good team. We’ll talk next season,” says Ted.
“It’s a horrible way to finish the season, but Florida is a great team,” says Ian.
Russ, the security guard, is sitting by the front door, hunched over. “I’m real bad,” he says. “It just hurts. I’m sittin’ in the corner lickin’ my wounds.” He smiles as much as he can, then speaks for everyone at the bar. “They’re still my team, win or lose.”
