INT. WELLS FARGO ARENA, PHILADELPHIA — NIGHT

Title: Game 7, NHL Eastern Conference Finals

Flyers up 3-2, 10 seconds left. The raucous crowd BELTS out the final ticks of the clock, on the brink of jubilation…

MIKE EMRICK V.O.: This place is about to explode. Flyers on the verge of playing for the Stanley Cup, a trophy they haven’t won since 1975.

A rabid fan in the cheap seats, CHARLIE SULLIVAN (30s), short & bearded, snags a mini bottle of rum from his torn tube sock and slugs it down. A true Philly fan, Charlie’s full of pride and passion- and a profound fucking hatred for the enemy.

BILL CLEMENT V.O.: In a season where the reigning MVP left to play for their hated rival.

Charlie sports a Flyers jersey with ROSKI stitched on the back. With a Sharpie, an F is scrawled in front of ROSKI.

ROSKI, now playing for the Rangers, skates across center ice… weaves between two defenders. Three seconds left…

Dekes a shot, then dashes toward the goal… a Flyer HIP CHECKS Roski as he winds up for a shot… clock reads 00:00

Fans ERUPT! Lying on the ice, Roski writhes in pain. Ref BLOWS his whistle: penalty shot. Roski leaps to his feet.

MIKE EMRICK V.O.: Penalty shot for Roski! As if these fans couldn’t hate him any more.
BILL CLEMENT V.O.: Hate is not a strong enough word.

The crowd SCREAMS bloody murder. Charlie thrusts both middle fingers at Roski, spewing curse words. Standing next to him-

His roommate VICTOR SMITH (30s), a dapper Black man who scopes out girls in the stands. A wannabe playboy, he’s dressed more for an upscale nightclub than a hockey game.

Tense silence. Roski’s at center ice. He takes the puck and glides toward the net… fakes left, shoots right… GOAL!

Hailstorm of BOOS. Furious, Charlie CHUCKS empty airplane bottles of cheap rum at the ref as Victor checks his phone: his bet on the Rangers is still alive.

Ping on Charlie’s cell. A text from KATE: ‘Wawa hoagie?’ Charlie groans, annoyed at the interruption.

INT. BEDROOM, CHARLIE AND VICTOR’S APARTMENT — CONTINUOUS

KATE (30s), a no makeup, no bullshit Philly girl, sits on Charlie’s bed, overnight bag at her side, gazing at the wall:

Every inch is covered with sports photos, including pictures of Charlie’s dad playing for the Flyers in the 1990s. There’s also a Philadelphia Inquirer photo of Charlie scarfing down a pile of horseshit after the Eagles’ 2018 Super Bowl win.

Yeah, she’s seen this before, but it never fully registered- he’s a fucking child.

INT. WELLS FARGO ARENA — 15 MINUTES LATER

Overtime starts. Roski wins the faceoff… passes to his left wing, who dishes it back… Roski winds up for a slapshot…

And CRUSHES it, burying the puck in the back of the net. NOOOO! Philly’s had heartbreaks before, but none like this.

Cups and cans and everything not glued down POUR onto the ice. The refs and the Rangers SCURRY to the locker room. All but Roski, who soaks in the hate, flipping off the crowd.

MIKE EMRICK V.O.: This is disgraceful.
BILL CLEMENT V.O.: This is Philly.

Out of things to throw, Charlie yanks off his sneaker, but Victor stops him- chill, bro. Charlie heaves a heavy sigh.

Ping. Another text. Charlie silences his phone, thinking it’s Kate nagging him. But it’s from DAD: ‘F Roski. Traitor’