Dear Bergy: A Letter to our Captain

Dear Patrice,

This is long overdue, and for that I apologize. I’ve been putting this off for way too long, but you got me right in my feels with your retirement announcement. Writing this letter to you has been weighing heavily on me for weeks; I’ve been a jumble of feelings; gratitude, sadness and happiness all at once. Let me do my best to let you know how much you’ve meant to me and to Bruins fans everywhere.

Let’s start at the beginning. When you came into the lives of Black and Gold Nation at 18 from L’Ancienne-Lorette, Quebec as the 45^th pick (how many GM’s lost their jobs over those previous picks!) in the 2003 NHL draft; no one but the most dialed-in fans knew what the Bruins just acquired. Scott Bradley, the B’s amateur scouting director at the time, got up to the mic in Nashville and said “The Boston Bruins select, from the Acadie-Bathurst Titan of the Quebec Major Junior Hockey League, center Patrice Bergeron-Cleary.” I’d be lying if I said I even remember you being drafted. I’d be lying if I said I knew you’d make an impact. I’d be lying if I said that I knew you’d grow into the best goddamn 200ft player this game has ever seen, but here we are.

You came into camp and were immediately taken under the wing of Marty LaPointe. Heck, you even moved in with him and his family. You told the media that you needed to work on your skating and your strength all while displaying what has come to be known as your trademark humbleness and professionalism. How many of you reading this remember Bergeron’s thick French accent and him apologizing to the media in his first post-draft media availability for his “rough English skills”? Yeah, me neither.

You made the varsity squad that first year as an 18 year old. You played 71 games putting up a stat line of 16-23-39 and ended the year as a +5. You also got a taste of the playoffs that year. The B’s were the 2^nd seed in the Eastern Conference and lost to the Montreal Canadiens in the first round. With the lockout on the horizon, you spent the following year in Providence as the AHL welcomed in younger NHL players to continue to develop their games in the minors. Funny thing when you look up stories about the “NHL Stars” playing in the A, you weren’t mentioned among them, at least not yet.

The next 2 seasons you showed the scouting department they made the right choice. Appearing in nearly every game for the Bruins you were just outside of a point per game pace and showed everyone that this skinny kid from Quebec was more than just a pretty face for commercials. Look at fresh-faced Bergy and Razor as they drove over the newly opened Zakim Bridge. Simpler times for sure.

Then came one of the darkest days for you and for all of us that love to watch you play. Randy Jones of the Philadelphia Flyers hit you directly in the numbers: face first into the glass/dasher and you were down, out of the game and done for the season. Not gonna lie, I thought your career was over. Bruins HC Claude Julien (in his first season with the team), called it a “dirty hit” and in the aftermath Jones was suspended for 2 games (which was a lot back then, but still not enough punishment for what the play was). I’ll admit, I caught a chill when I saw Marc Savard in the old clips comforting you on the ice as you were loaded onto the stretcher, an eerie foreshadowing of how it was going to go for him.

Warning: This is a long clip and it’s pretty unnerving to see Bergeron laid out like that and all the old emotions definitely come flooding back. Tough to watch for sure.

Then you were back. Slowly at first, but then like a runaway truck. All gas and no brakes right up to the culmination of everything you’ve worked for your entire hockey life: The Stanley Cup. The highlights still play on a reel in all of our minds but the one that stands out for me is the shortie. That play speaks to me above all others. You were the calm in the storm, the never giving up on a play, the wherewithal to not touch the puck with your glove and keep your body torqued while Christian Ehrhoff tried to catch a piggyback ride. That was also the season you earned your first Frank Selke Award. (And to those that wonder why I can’t stand Eddie Olczyck on the broadcasts, listen to this donkey try to convince people at home that it wasn’t a goal.)

After The Cup, (and I’ll have you know that I was there for that parade: front row outside of City Hall), during that glorious spring day, we were all chanting “Bite Me Burrows” with you conducting the chorus from the Duck Boat. I’ve never been to another Championship Parade and will always hold that day in my heart. For what it’s worth: I may or may not still have confetti from the parade in a Ziploc on my fridge. Yeah my wife is a very patient woman.

Talk about a leader. You all remember his speech before the parade kicked off right? Here it is again, with his linie: Brad Marchand showing just how much opposites attract. What a duo both on and off the ice.

In the subsequent years after The Cup, you seemed to settle into the role of a pro’s pro. League wide you were considered to be one of the league’s superstars and faces of the league (once again, Boston proves itself ahead of the curve), and you grew even more into your role as one of the teams’ leaders. It was a bitter pill to swallow, watching the Chicago Blackhawks hoist The Cup on home ice, but you were out there, literally giving everything you could for the team. Broken rib, torn rib cartilage, separated shoulder and a punctured lung: which turned into a collapsed lung leaving you in the hospital for 3 days. What more can one man give?? You always gave us everything you had, but that performance made believers out of the (very few) Black and Gold agnostics remaining in the crowd.

The Cup, The Olympic Golds, the Worlds Championships, the Canada Cup, the All-Star nods, the Selkes (6x), all of the tributes and the messages: None of that can encapsulate what you’ve meant to not only me, but to the million and millions of Bruins fans. You are an absolute icon, a true living legend. I hope to be in the building when your jersey takes its’ rightful place in the rafters of The Garden. Up there with the other immortals, where you were meant to be.

It’s weird how much I love and respect someone that I’ve never had the good fortune to meet. I’ve literally watched you grow up. You were a teenager when we “met” and now I watch you leave this game that we all love, to go on to do whatever it is that you want. Enjoy your kids and wife and be “the Uber driver for the family” that you mentioned in your retirement press conference.

I wish you nothing but the best and hope you understand how important you’ve been to all of us. Not only those that watched you play, but those that you inspired with the way you carry yourself and by those you’ve impacted with your charitable work.

How much we all respect you. How much we all love you. How much we will all miss you. And most of all, how much we all thank you.

Au revoir, à la prochaine.