Bet the folks sitting in this seat in 1912 never imagined there’d be a hockey match played out on the field.
This entry will probably not hold your interest if you are tired of the seemingly never-ending love fest with Boston sports. Good thing for you that your interest is of no interest to me, and that I also don’t count hockey as a bandwagon sport that any sort of “nation” or “brotherhood” is ever really willing to join. We hockey fans are a modest bunch, content to follow the moderate highs and depressing lows of our teams as the League infuriates us with rule changes that vainly attempt to create a wider base of fans with no attention span or appreciation for tradition. That’s the present state of the National Hockey League captured in one run-on sentence.
I’m up in Boston for one last hurrah before I leave for Senegal. It’s been snowing almost consistently since the Winter Classic ended two days ago, but that hasn’t stopped me from immersing myself in hometown (yes, I know I’m really from Cape Cod) memories that will hopefully carry me through thirty months of decidedly un-New Englandlike weather and sensibilities. High on cold medicine and trudging through the snow in my running shoes, it seems like an appropriate send-off.
“What’s the Winter Classic?” you might ask. If you’re like the concierge here in my sister’s building, you might imagine that it’s an ice skating competition. That’s okay. This just means that you were one less person vying for tickets to get into Fenway Park on New Year’s Day to watch the Bruins face off against the Philadelphia Flyers.
After scoring tickets in the best possible way, I went to the game with my brother-in-law, my brother, and his die-hard Bruins friend. Since my brother and I have a life-long goal of hitting every rink in the NHL, this stop was a great bonus addition to our quest. It was weird boarding the green line, bypassing North Station and heading to Kenmore with a bunch of fans decked in black and gold, but everyone was polite and the excitement was palpable for the once-in-a-lifetime event. There was even an impressive contingent of Flyers fans on hand to put up with some Boston heckling. Props to them for making the trip.
Fast-forward to arriving at Fenway Park, scoffing at $15 dollar programs and heading to our excellent seats. It took about 30 minutes of looking around in disbelief before we could believe that we were actually at the game. The Green Monster, scoreboard and team standings were all redone to look as if the NHL always owned this territory. In addition to the retired numbers of Red Sox greats along the Right Field Roof, the numbers of retired Bruins were added alongside. The field was covered in real snow, and the grandstand seats were nice and cramped. Good stuff.
The announcer informed the packed ballpark that although we were hockey fans, we needed to observe the “Fenway” rules of good behavior- which is kind of comical if you’ve ever attended any Boston sporting event. In general, we are not very polite fans, but it is probably arguable that Bruins fans are better behaved than Sox fans. Still, that didn’t stop people from chanting “Yankees Suck” several times throughout the game. One difference that my brother-in-law noted between baseball fans and hockey fans: no one left during play to get refreshments at the concession stands. The place stayed packed through three periods of play. It’s an unscientific observation on my part, but hockey doesn’t attract many casual fans, therefore the spectators are more likely there to observe the finer points of the game rather than to “be seen” sitting next a mullet-wearing, blue collar hockey fan in the nosebleed section.
Denis Leary, Worcester FD and Sweet Caroline
I imagine that most of you are not followers of hockey, so I won’t go on with many more details of the match. Suffice to say that the Bruins played almost three periods of infuriating hockey that finally produced a game-tying goal with two minutes left in the game. The goal produced a fantastic eruption in Fenway that was only improved upon by the sudden-death goal that brought the game to a happy ending in overtime. It was, in the local parlance, wicked cool.
Almost like a BoSox game in April…
So like I said before, it’s now two days later. I’m staying with my sister and I had the good fortune to head out in the freezing temperatures last night to attend my third Celtics game. These guys are also a lot of fun to watch- and I take issue with the (white middle aged) hockey fan on the T ride home from Fenway who observed aloud that with the NBA, all you need to do is watch “Cops” to get an idea of what basketball games are like. What can I say? Boston still has its share of a racial undercurrent to address.
It’s still snowing outside, and because I’m a glutton for punishment, I still may head out into town today. Something tells me that in a few months I’ll be cursing the inescapable heat of West Africa and pining for frozen fingertips and toes.
What a great way to start off 2010.