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Game Seven Terrors

Woke up this morning terrified. We lost game seven. Luongo finally cleaned it up. I turned my phone alarm off and rolled back in bed. Surely, my boss would understand if I was a little bit late. After all, one of the core values of our school is compassion. As I heard the swift movements of my housemates getting ready to work, I realized it must have been a dream.  No one can move that fast after such a catastrophic end to hockey season. Game seven is yet to happen.

Quickly, I threw on my black and gold (more yellow in actuality), brushed my teeth, and ran out the door. I put on 98.5 hoping the rest of the world would be as jazzed as myself.

Lebron, Lebron, Lebron. Really? I’m up with Game Seven Terrors, and the people of Boston are talking about Lebron? Yawn! I need to hear hockey. I need someone to calm me down or pump me up. But I don not need my mind filled up with Lebron trash. Then it happens.

The montage of the whole Bruins season. Start to finish. The music as dramatic as it was in my dream, but a bit more uplifting. They have audio clips of the Sequin trade, the seventh game victory over the Habs, Horton’s hit, Bobby Orr holding a number 18 flag, saves from Thomas, Luogongo being taken out, and fans chanting “WE WANT A CUP!”.

Before I know it I have to take my fogged over sunglasses off. I am in tears. I look to my right at the traffic light and see a bus full of students from my school. And I realize no stories, no communication tips, nothing can teach them the importance of a Game Seven. Especially, after thirty-nine empty years.

 

The Big Bad Bruins Bug

The Bruins virus is spreading. The Bruins epidemic has affected almost all in Boston it seems. Coming into my house yesterday I realized all of my housemates were dressed from toe to head in black and gold.  Teachers, who used to ask “who” when I mentioned a Bruin, are now writing tales from the games in their morning messages. My students are now using names like Ricky O’Ree and Bobby Orr with confidence.  Last night I had a table of over ten watching the Bruins with me. It used to just be me, and one other friend. But like I said, the Bruins epidemic is spreading. And if it hasn’t hit you, wait for it. Think about the last time the Red Sox and Yankees have been playing each other, and no one spoke of it. Not out of shame or fear, just because they didn’t care much. More important things to do.

 People were saying this Bruins team was similar to the 2004 Red Sox team, in a desperate attempt to allow themselves to feel still focused on baseball in this hockey fueled time. But that’s not what it looks like to me. The Bruins don’t look like idiots. They look like the Big Bad Bruins again. The Bruins remind me of the Bruins in 1970. Well, I wasn’t alive, but they are how I imagine the 1970 team to be. There was a quick flash on the TV screen. WIN IT FOR HORTON. With Bobby Orr holding up a Horton flag, it was impossible to not think about the statue of him in front of the Garden. To think of the Big Bad Bruins trying with all of their might to win it for Green. So if you haven’t caught the Bruins Bug, catch it quick, it’s far from idiotic. They build statues about these moments, so people like me can look at the statue and pretend to have known what it felt like to be alive for it. I’m done dreaming of sheep, I’m dreaming of cups.