| Bellissimo post trovato a Boston.
When Hope Becomes Fact
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I have been trying to write this since the day of the parade.
Over and over again I have tried to find the right words to express what this title meant to me, and over and over again I failed miserably. No matter how many nights I put off sleep trying to craft perfect paragraphs and perfect thoughts in my head, each morning brought with it new found frustration.
It is only now that I fully understand why I have been unable to put any of my feelings in print, or in perspective. I've spent my entire life hoping to see the Boston Bruins win the Stanley Cup. Season after season, game after game, shift after shift, each small success and large failure were followed with the hope that at some point it would all pay off with a big cup.
The reason I haven't been able to find the words to express what the culmination of a journey of hope feels like is because I never actually thought it would happen. I never truly prepared to feel any of this. I was hopelessly hopeful.
It is obviously a traditional, Boston, Puritanical idea to think that no amount of hope will ever come to fruition. As a Sox fan it should have been an easy fear to throw away after 2004. Anything can happen.
Sure. Duh. That was obvious. Just not to me. Just not about my team.
And the Boston Bruins truly are my team. My first memories of the Bruins are my first memories. For as long as I have been aware of anything the Bruins have been as an important part of my life as anything else. From watching weekend games with my father, to excitedly sitting through the end credits of Cheers, to proudly naming each player as the camera panned the bench during the National Anthem, to every disappointing spring and every fired coach, to everything this team has provided me for almost 28 years, good and bad, to the millions of details and million of pieces of minutiae that I carry around from this team, they are there. All of it.
And yet, that short changes what role they have truly played. For following this team is not merely defined by the games I have watched, nor the goals for or against, or the wins and losses. Not for me.
As I waited for the Duckboats to slowly pass by I thought about the people that love me, and how they have always understood my love of this team.
I thought about my grandmother who used to babysit us on weekend nights while my parents worked at the family restaurant that would ultimately lead to divorce. She always made sure I had snacks so I wouldn't have to miss any of the game. Each and every time when the first goal would find its way past Andy Moog she would be
the most upset person in the room because it meant he didn't get "that thing." No matter that I always told her that "thing" was called a shutout it didn't stick. She just knew it meant he didn't get it and that it would bother me.
I also thought about my mother. A lot. My mother who made sure that after the divorce I would never be deprived of my favorite thing in the world, a trip to the Garden to see the Bruins. So, in spite of the fact we simply could not afford it, she made sure tickets always found their way into my hand. I will never know how many lunches were really skipped, or how many old clothes were strecthed a little bit further than they should have been. But I do know those tickets somehow showed up every year, and more often than will ever be able to repay her for.
I also thought about my girlfriend, who for the past nine years has accepted that as I have gotten older my love for the team has not abated, like so many who grow up, but has grown. Not once has she ever complained when I asked if we could stay in on a Friday or Saturday night just long enough to see the game. Even the "Michael, not so louds" that followed way too vocal "yeahs!" after goals were done with a smiling understanding.
And I even thought about my father. We don't talk, and haven't in a long time. But as the Bruins got closer and closer to actually winning I thought about him and whether he was thinking about me. Not because I felt any great regret or sadness, but because no matter what he has or hasn't done over the years, he did give me the Bruins.
Of course, I am not nearly naive enough to think that any of these experiences are unique to me. In fact, I know that they are quite universal. It is impossible to truly love anything, especially a team that continually breaks your spirit, without the understanding of the people that love you. Like all of us that follow this team, or for any fan anywhere that cares more than they should, the story of these journeys are remarkably similar. It is why I felt the need to share any of this with you. A group that I also thought about. I feel lucky to have found people that let me know how many of us there really are sweating, crying, and cheering over this team.
I know that this title is just as much about our fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, husbands, wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, and friends as it is about us. It wouldn't matter as much if it wasn't.
I have been a lot of things to a lot of people. Of all the hats I have worn in life the only one that ever truly fit was my helmet. I was always at my best on the ice. I love hockey. It gave me a chance to be everything I hoped to be, even if for a short time.
And the Bruins have always skated side-by-side with that love.
The other day I realized that after many false "deadlines" to write this my time was finally running out. On Thursday a new season will begin, and the the beauty and cruelty of the Stanley Cup will come true, it will be gone, a mere fleeting, wonderful possession will return to belonging to everyone that loves the game, and the journey will start anew.
Yet I still didn't know how to find the right words to share all of this. I still didn't know how to close this improbable reality that I spent so long hoping for, even if I never believed I would be here. I know that even with an infinite number of nights I'd never be able to make this perfect, but I didn't even know how to make it exist.
And then last week my beautiful Redhead, the one that has loving allowed me to watch more games than anyone should be willing to tolerate, said she had to tell me about my birthday gift a little early.
She had two tickets for us to Opening Night, to see the Banner raised, together. We would be there for the last moment of something that has meant more to me than any amount of words could ever quantify.
Fittingly, I couldn't find anything to say, to thank her, to tell her how much tis meant to me. I wanted to. But all I could do was wipe the tears welling up in my eyes.
But I don't have to hope she knows.
Hope has nothing to do with it.
Not anymore.
It never has.
Go Bruins.
Ieri si è alzato il sesto banner. Poi è arrivato un rocambolesco 1-2 contro i Flyers. Ma i Bruins ci sono.
Domani arriva Tampa. Per fortuna non i Rays!
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