And so it begins. On Saturday night as we approach the Hunter’s Moon, your Boston Bruins will host the Dallas Stars to kick off the season here in the Hub of Hockey. It’s the time of year when football is back; baseball matters and now 32! fan bases around the NHL have visions of hoisting Lord Stanley dancing through their heads. This dream will never become a reality for
Buffalo Arizona San Jose some while Toronto some others aspire to simply find their way out of the first round.
There’s a chill in the air and a pep in the step of The Black and Gold Faithful. They know that soon, finally, their team will cowboy over the boards with will forged in iron and hearts full of bad intent. These beauties that personify the Bruins culture, the ones who stand for the proud city we all share and represent this noble region we all call home. These few that always put the crest before the nameplate, the ones that play for each other at all times; this band of players from distant lands that have come together with one goal, one mission, and one clear purpose.
Here in this treasured space, the talk is of the group and never of the individual.
There is no “I” there is only “WE”.
This glorious game that was sent down from upon high, passed from the hands of the Canadian Hockey Gods to us mere mortals to worship and enjoy. This game doesn’t care about your emotions. This game can be a fickle sorceress that will fill your heart with joy and then empty your soul without remorse, all within a few ticks of the clock. This game that can lift you from the depths of despair and allow you to share in an unrepentant moment of pure joy that is sublime in and of itself. The moment you share across a nation of believers.
Thanks to this hockey team I have achieved the rare state of nirvana.
Our church is laid out on pristine ice distilled from the tears of angels. That ice is walled with wood that was hand rendered from the mighty Maple trees brought down by our forefathers in the Great White North. We bear witness to this magical space through panes of glass; these windows not only allow us a view of the game, but we see the best that lies in of all of us. We marvel at these warrior poets dancing on blades of steel. We see selflessness and sacrifice, physicality and mental acuity all happening within each heartbeat. Our hearts are full as we all come together as one to worship from the rafters upon high, a community of faithful, an assembly of the Blessed Black and Gold.
This simple game of skates, sticks and ice nourishes our soul. For the righteous, manna is served on the curves of Koho and Titans and sacramental wine is poured from squeeze bottles stored in each team’s respective pew. The echoes of our collective past ring true in the time of our present as we enter this hallowed ground together. We hearken back to a time of Schmidt and Clapper; those that blazed the trail so that Espo and Orr could build a foundation for generations to follow. Who will join these Legends of Causeway and live on in the hearts and minds of the faithful to inspire another generation? Time here is measured in Cups and only the purest of souls with love in their hearts attain that holy chalice. We look skyward not for heavenly bodies, but for inspiration and a guiding light to the Promised Land.
So come with me and take my hand. Raise your voice with mine in song and cheer. A toast to all who make this glorious game what it is and what it can be. We all move forward through life with burdens, but for a few hours we get to shed that weight, suspend the limitations of an earthly existence and bask in the glow of what The Hockey Gods have bequeathed upon us.
Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls; we are upon the threshold of opening night for your Boston Bruins.
Are you ready for puck drop?