Without question, Eric Lindros’ career as a Philadelphia Flyer merits the retirement of his #88, which will happen this season. Even if he hadn’t been enshrined in the Hockey Hall of Fame, Lindros’ contributions to the Flyers were numerous and significant. Hopefully it will be the last bit of “healing” between Lindros and the club; that narrative stopped being interesting years ago. Lindros’ jersey retirement promises to be a special event.

It also ought to be the last such ceremony until the Flyers win another Stanley Cup.

After three no-brainers (#1 Bernie Parent, # 7 Bill Barber and #16 Bobby Clarke) and one largely sentimental choice (#4 Barry Ashbee), in 2012 the Flyers retired Mark Howe’s #2. Was Howe a great Flyer? Sure. He also spent six seasons in the WHA and three seasons in Hartford before coming to Philadelphia, and he finished his career in Detroit.

Like Lindros, Howe had once-in-a-generation skills and was remarkable to watch in person. And also like Lindros, Howe came close to leading the Flyers to their third Cup. Close. Never did, though.

Howe and Lindros pass the eye test. Their numbers belong in the rafters. But when the franchise goes decades without winning a championship, they could be tempted to start reaching, just a little at first.

It’s a slippery slope. This is the franchise that in recent seasons brought you Danny Briere Retirement Night and subjected its fans to a video tribute to Kimmo Timonen’s 1000th NHL game. Timonen played eight seasons in Nashville before becoming a Flyer.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yamXHuPvmyg

You want me to go on? Fine, since you asked so nicely. You don’t have to watch all 18:59 of the ceremony for Rod Brind’Amour, but here it is if that’s your thing:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xs0CuBIZkJo

To the best of my recollection, Brian Boucher made one freaking save that ever mattered, and he parlayed that one moment of pseudobrilliance into a cushy gig in the CSN Philly studio postgame chair for years [Editor’s note: I’d argue that his save against Patrick Elias was brilliant.]:

http://https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k-Aw7X-uR1o

But nobody made more from less than Lappy. That’s right: Ian Laperriere took one frozen rope to the mush in 2010, cementing his place in Flyers lore, and also on the bench, as he’s now assistant coach for your Philadelphia Flyers.

http://https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WmL5VPiSKqE

No team aggressively celebrates relatively insignificant periods of “he was really good here for a while” or “he did something we remember” like the Flyers. Right, maybe the Phillies.

Number retirements are like currency units in that the more of them you produce, the less valuable any given one becomes. Continually over-honoring players who never won anything risks irreparably cheapening the whole concept.

And you probably already know where we’re headed next…there really aren’t any other deserving candidates. To do this again, the Flyers would have to reach down yet another level for a player who came close but ultimately came up short. You can love John LeClair and Tim Kerr and Ron Hextall and Rod Brind’Amour all you like. That doesn’t make them worthy of this highest possible honor the team can bestow.

Someone out there just muttered “Claude Giroux.” Just, no. If he wins a Cup, we can come back to him. But he just finished captaining the Flyers to their second non-playoff season out of three in a league where you almost have to try not reach the postseason. Never mind that the Flyers haven’t won a playoff series since Obama’s first term. G will be 30 on January 12, 2018, i.e., six days before #88 is raised at the Wells Fargo Center.

Don’t feel too bad for Giroux. If recent history is any guide, he and Wayne Simmonds and Jakub Voracek will all get their ceremonies here someday, and might well end up joining the 25(!) other members of the Flyers Hall of Fame in due time.

If the Flyers want these number retirement ceremonies to retain any meaning, though, Lindros’ has to be the last one until the team wins the Cup again. Otherwise we’ll all be stuck celebrating second place or worse, over and over, and looking at their numbers overhead every game.

The only feeling emptier than never winning is being too content with that reality.