Hockey's Back in Boston; Some Say it Never Left
Allow me to paint for you a verbal picture of a recent experience:
Imagine witnessing firsthand the unbridled fervor of the Black and Gold diehards while sitting in the balcony for three periods of play on Saturday night. Take a look at the Jumbotron before pre-game introductions and observe the intermingling of inspirational Rocky-esque music with the flashing of words like "underdog," "comeback" and "upset" accompanied by their definitions. Survey the arena as you watch 20,000 strong (minus a couple thousand Habs fans, who, aside from the one fohawk-having, white sunglasses-wearing jerk in our section, were very classy and respectful throughout) chanting "Let's go Bruins!" and waving their Bruins-Covidien towels, even after a deflating and crushing blow to our collective gut in the form of a Canadiens goal. The place is shaking thanks to the raucous being created by the Bruins faithful; on more than a handful of occasions, the crowd even reaches "Garden level" upon being commanded to "Make some noise," something that rarely ever happens in regular season games. Think of the depth of the toll that such a game would take on you, both emotionally and physically; down 0-1, tied 1-1, down 1-2, tied 2-2, down 3-2, tied 3-3, up 4-3, tied 4-4 (about 11 seconds later), up 5-4 for the win... here we come, Game 7! Picture yourself floating down what seems like 20 flights of stairs among screaming B's fans and stumbling out to the West Entrance of the TD Banknorth Garden in a state of absolute euphoria after having witnessed one of the greatest games ever played on the hallowed grounds. You immerse yourself in the chanting crowd, join in their relentless incantations and walk side-by-side with other fans grinning like fools because none of you can even begin to comprehend what you've just witnessed. Envision slapping hands with total strangers and feeling like you've known them for years due to what you've both just been through. Imagine watching Phil Kessel become a bona fide star right before your eyes, Tim Thomas refusing to quit in spite of numerous quality scoring chances for the Habs and Marco Sturm being so elated over nailing the game-winner that he eschews the typical hand-slapping skate along the bench and takes a giant leap into his teammates' outstretched arms... Forgive me if I'm becoming overly poetic, but to be honest, it was an unexpectedly poetic experience; even my attempt at eloquence here falls short of doing the experience justice.
Tonight's Game 7 has all the makings to be one of the most emotional, unlikely and unforeseen comebacks in the history of our beloved eight-spoked franchise. While this sport of ours may not be as popular as baseball, football and basketball in this region (and it probably never will be given the wild popularity of the Red Sox, Patriots and Celtics at this time), rest assured that win or lose tonight, hockey is alive and well in the Boston area. Good luck, boys, and thanks for the ride.
Imagine witnessing firsthand the unbridled fervor of the Black and Gold diehards while sitting in the balcony for three periods of play on Saturday night. Take a look at the Jumbotron before pre-game introductions and observe the intermingling of inspirational Rocky-esque music with the flashing of words like "underdog," "comeback" and "upset" accompanied by their definitions. Survey the arena as you watch 20,000 strong (minus a couple thousand Habs fans, who, aside from the one fohawk-having, white sunglasses-wearing jerk in our section, were very classy and respectful throughout) chanting "Let's go Bruins!" and waving their Bruins-Covidien towels, even after a deflating and crushing blow to our collective gut in the form of a Canadiens goal. The place is shaking thanks to the raucous being created by the Bruins faithful; on more than a handful of occasions, the crowd even reaches "Garden level" upon being commanded to "Make some noise," something that rarely ever happens in regular season games. Think of the depth of the toll that such a game would take on you, both emotionally and physically; down 0-1, tied 1-1, down 1-2, tied 2-2, down 3-2, tied 3-3, up 4-3, tied 4-4 (about 11 seconds later), up 5-4 for the win... here we come, Game 7! Picture yourself floating down what seems like 20 flights of stairs among screaming B's fans and stumbling out to the West Entrance of the TD Banknorth Garden in a state of absolute euphoria after having witnessed one of the greatest games ever played on the hallowed grounds. You immerse yourself in the chanting crowd, join in their relentless incantations and walk side-by-side with other fans grinning like fools because none of you can even begin to comprehend what you've just witnessed. Envision slapping hands with total strangers and feeling like you've known them for years due to what you've both just been through. Imagine watching Phil Kessel become a bona fide star right before your eyes, Tim Thomas refusing to quit in spite of numerous quality scoring chances for the Habs and Marco Sturm being so elated over nailing the game-winner that he eschews the typical hand-slapping skate along the bench and takes a giant leap into his teammates' outstretched arms... Forgive me if I'm becoming overly poetic, but to be honest, it was an unexpectedly poetic experience; even my attempt at eloquence here falls short of doing the experience justice.
Tonight's Game 7 has all the makings to be one of the most emotional, unlikely and unforeseen comebacks in the history of our beloved eight-spoked franchise. While this sport of ours may not be as popular as baseball, football and basketball in this region (and it probably never will be given the wild popularity of the Red Sox, Patriots and Celtics at this time), rest assured that win or lose tonight, hockey is alive and well in the Boston area. Good luck, boys, and thanks for the ride.
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