But unfortunately it is not.

Game 6 really did happen.

The Bruins really did lose.

That stupid totem fell over.

What happened on Monday night was like a punch to the solar plexus.  All your air expelled from your body so rapidly, leaving you desperate to catch your breath while your lungs burn and struggle.

Since that night, I’ve taken the time to reflect on it all and I’m now at a point where I can talk about it without getting all teary-eyed.   The melancholy has faded and been replaced by an overwhelming sense of pride in my hockey club.

Despite the horrible way that it all ended, I still love this Bruins team.  In fact, I love them even more than I did at the start of the season.  They showed a grit, determination, and unity of which they, their fans, and the city of Boston should be exceptionally proud.  They bared their heart and souls and laid everything out there on the line.  They got their chance at the Cup.  But it just wasn’t meant to be.

Thank you, Patrice Bergeron, for just being amazing and perfect.  Seriously.  Even Pants (who hates the Bruins with the fire of a thousand suns) will admit that she respects #37.   His man is without a doubt the heart and soul of this Bruins team.   Patrice Bergeron is the sun, the rest of the Bruins, the planets which orbit in his golden glow.

Bergeron is not the flashiest player, nor is his visage is not posted in the windows of the NHL store.

But there is no denying that he is one of the fiercest competitor in the NHL.  He played Game 6 with a separated shoulder, a broken rib, AND torn rib cartilage.

Do you know what a broken rib feels like?  Imagine that every time you take a deep breathe in or out, it feels like you are being stabbed with a knife.

So, ya…that’s fun.

In countless post game interviews, the Bruins players talked about how much they loved each other and what it was to play together.  We joke about the Seguin/Marchand bromance, but it seems as though the whole Bruins team was just one big collective bromance.

This is a team that was virtually unchanged since their 2011 Stanley Cup win.  That run a mere two years ago solidified this unbreakable bond.  I imagine that the Bruins are much like a band of brothers who in war time would give their heart, soul, and lay down their lives for each other. Just look at Gregory Campbell.

I can’t take anything away from what the Hawks did in this lockout shortened season.  From the get-go, the Hawks were the best team in the league.  If anyone deserved to win, it was them.

Their history making win streak to start the season set a pace and expectation that the Hawks ultimately lived up to.  They stumbled a bit, had some hard-fought playoff series wins, and while it wasn’t perfect, the shiny fruit of their labor is all that really matters.

As much as I want to hate the Hawks, I can’t.  They are an exceptional hockey club and it would be foolish of me as a hockey fan to deride them and their obvious talent simply because they beat my beloved Bruins.

I think what makes it all so heart-wrenching is how it all went down.  With so little time left and the Bruins within reach of forcing a game 7, the Hawks came in like some magicians and swiped that tablecloth from right underneath my good china.  It all went crashing to the floor, shattering into a million little pieces.

I’m starting to glue the pieces back together, but it is  going to take me some time.  Like all summer.

The post-game interviews…I still can’t watch.  The thought of teary-eyed Tyler Seguin and sad panda face Patrice Bergeron is all too much.   I just want to reach through the screen and pull them in for a great big hug.

If only game 6 had been 58 minutes instead of 60 – what would have happened then?

Maybe game 7 would led the Bruins to the Cup or maybe the outcome would have been exactly the same.  It is impossible to know.

What I do know is that this is a Bruins team that is something truly special.  We’ll have to see what the off-season has in store for us.  Who will come and who will go?

But come October, you know where to find me.  Decked out in my Black and Gold, ready for another run at the Cup.

Firstly because it all about the Bruins (natch).

And secondly because they use Russell Crowe to narrate.

I love me some Russell Crowe.  Just ask Pants.

His voice + the Bruins…I’m having ALL the feels.

created by ‘trigger687’

Lord of the Rings.  Star Wars.  The Goonies.

Tonight at 8pm in the Madhouse on Madison, another quest will begin.

Warriors will unite and embark on a journey.  The goal – the most coveted prize in professional hockey.

I guess you could say that this quest began back at the start of the regular season.

The Hawks got the jump on everyone.  They got to the dock first, jumped on that speed boat, and never looked back.

See ya.

Left standing on the dock, the Bruins had to figure out another way to get the treasure.

They hopped in their black and yellow jeep with the racing stripe and took off along the winding, unpaved road toward the ancient temple and its treasure.

Luckily for them, they knew the way…and they had the map.

Along the way, their jeep broke down.  Luckily for them, one of the villagers has a donkey.  Their journey continued, albeit slowly.  The donkey kept stopping so Chara and Seidenberg had to hop off and give him a shove.

As they trudged along the road, they came upon a air field.  On that air field was a curmudgeon old timer with a helicopter.   They ditched the donkey and hopped in the helicopter, Tuukka Rask behind the control.

At last, the Bruins had reached the ancient temple deep in the heart of the Jungle.

But so had the Blackhawks.

Through the thicket of the jungle, they saw each other.

They looked at the temple with its shiny silver treasure hidden within.

They looked at each other.

They looked back at the temple.

Cue the John Williams score.

So that’s where we are in this story – both teams so close, the ultimate treasure within reach.

Bigger question now is…Who will get there first?

While we don’t like the Devils, we have to give them props for not laying down in front of the purple and black freight train and for pushing the series to a Game 6.

Last week, the Devils were down 3-0 in the series, teetering percariously on the edge, Jonathan Quick poised to send them tumbling into the abyss of the SCF sweep.

No goal for you.

But leave it to Marty Brodeur, the 4o year old future Hall of Fame netminder, to bring the Devils back and for the players like Parise, Salvador, and he of the creeper ‘stach, Henrique, to step up big time.

Have the Devils totally messed with the Kings’ hockey chi?  Will they come from 3-0 down to win their 4th Stanley Cup?

Mike Richards and his heterosexual life partner, Jeff Carter are determined to not make that happen.

Their epic bromance will conquer all.

Most epic of bromances.

If there ever was a time that these two needed to step up, it is tonight.

Time to silence all those hater and critics and to show the Flyers fans what they could have had.

I have confidence in the Kings.  They just need to play the way that they’ve been playing the entire playoffs.  With physicality, skill, strength. But most importantly, to play like one being,  a hockey borg, if you will.

Take a deep breath, boys.  Keep calm and carry on.

Exhale.

Each team has been presented with one trophy this year. Both captains opted not to touch their Conference chalices, but only one will lift the Cup in 2012.

Will a playoff beard be the first to kiss Lord Stanley’s prize, or find itself waiting to see whom the captain hands the Cup to next?

Click [HERE] to read more…

Captain Brown vs. Captain Parise.

We are the Champions!

Those words will live with me for the rest of my life.

For the first time since 1972, the Black and Gold have won the most beauteous and shiniest of all trophies in professional sports.  The Bruins defeated the Vancouver Canucks, a team which lead the regular season in points, were a #1 seed and stacked with undoubtedly offensive talent like the Sedin twins and Ryan Kesler.

But when it comes to winning the Stanley Cup, stuff like that don’t matter.

What matters is Heart.  Soul.  Grit.  Grime.  Desire.

A desire that is a slowly burning fire in the hearts of each and every one of these players since they were old enough to skate.

For the Boston Bruins, that fire started in Prague at the beginning of the season.

It smoldered throughout the months, through each long road trip, overtime win,  and shoot out loss.

The sparks started to pop and crackle during the first round of the playoffs versus the Canadians.

The fire began to grow with the sweep of the Flyers  and the emotional victory over the Lightning in the Eastern Conference Finals.

When the Stanley Cup Finals began, that fire was burning bright and hot, but it IGNITED because of one hit.

Aaron Rome’s crushing hit on Nathan Horton in Game 3 was akin to pouring a can of lighter fluid on a campfire.

Once minute you’re slowing roasting marshmallows and the next, you are plucking blackened, charred, nobs of sugary goo off your sharpened branch.

That hit changed something in the Bruins.  It made them angry.  Vancouver’s post game jawing and comments to the press only fueled the fire more.

All season, the Bs played better when they were down, when people counted them out.  They crushed the Canucks in games 3, 4, and 6, and games 1, 2, and 5 were only one goal losses.

The Finals gave the decided advantage to the home team, but the Bruins were a team that would not be denied.

With the exception of a couple of minor penalties and sloppy turnovers, the Bruins played a perfect Game 7.  It was controlled yet intense.  All four of the Bruins lines were churning and working hard to shut down the Canucks, as they’d done the whole series.

Tim Thomas cemented his legacy in the pantheon of Boston sports and became the oldest player ever to win the Conn Smythe as the playoff MVP.

The Bruins defense, led by Zdeno Chara and the exceedingly underrated Dennis Seidenberg, created ghosts of the Sedins and the rest of the Canucks forwards.

Mark Recchi, at 43 years young, won his 3rd Stanley Cup, and promptly retired.  The guy is class all the way and because of him, Patrice Bergeron, Brad Marchand, and Tyler Seguin will be the future of the Boston Bruins.

What happened last night will be etched into the memories of every Bruins fan everywhere and with this victory, my beloved city truly stakes its claim as the “City of Champions”.  7 titles in 11 years.

7/11.

A slurpee sounds pretty good right about now.

But only if I get to drink it from the Cup.

Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals.

Bruins vs. Canucks.

East vs. West.

Bear vs. Orca.

For fans of both teams, tonight will be a special game.  History will be made.

Bruins have the opportunity to win their first Cup in 39 years.  Canucks have the chance to win their first Cup ever.

Through 82 regular season games and 3 rounds of intense playoff action, both teams have battled and bled for hockey glory.  They felled hated foes, only to create new ones with a single bite.

They’ve been concussed, cut, punched, slashed, some within an inch of their lives, only to emerge a roaring beast full of fire and determination and sheer will.

Tonight….someone wins the Cup.

We all know where my loyalties lie.  My blood runs Black and Gold.  For those that know me, they know that my love for this great sport and for the Bruins is not fairweather.  It is a deep, pure love, one that has sustained itself season after season, through every victory and every heart-wrenching defeat.

At 8pm EST, I’ll be sitting on my couch with my fingers and my toes and my hair crossed.  My roommate has graciously agreed to have a defibrilator ready.  I’ve already warned her that I may cry.

Oh and a fun fact about tonight…tonight, there will be a lunar eclipse.

Last time there was a lunar eclipse…it was Oct. 27, 2004…the day the Red Sox broke the curse and won the World Series.

Just saying…

It was a Friday.  I sent my office home early, gingerly arranged the bunny ears on the conference room TV and proceeded to spend three hours alone and freaking out.  At one point I was laying on the conference table kicking my feet like a five year old in a tantrum.  Everyone on the floors above and below must have been wondering, who the crap is Max Talbot?

I started crying long before it was over, but when it ended I was glad to be alone because not everybody gets it.  But you guys do.  So I hope that some year, your team wins.  Well no – really I hope the Pens win every year.  But if not my team then I hope it’s yours.

Just like Baby in “Dirty Dancing.”  Except instead of Johnny Castle, I had Tim Thomas.

Thanks to a one very awesome friend, I was at Game 4 of the Stanley Cup Finals at TD Garden.

Bruins shutout the Canucks, 4-0  to even the series 2-2.  Series returns to Vancouver for Game 5 on Friday.

Attending the Stanley Cup Finals is a dream for any hockey fan, including me.  It was very high on my bucket list, right up there with seeing the pyramids and making out with Ben Affleck.

But I never thought that it would ACTUALLY happen.

That was until last night.

So how did I get there?  How did I come to check this off my bucket list? And what did it feel like when I did?

See below...

[ It’s sort long but bear with me.  Get it?  Bear.   ]

===============================

I have a friend from high school.  His name is Smitty.  It’s really Kevin, but pretty sure that his mom and his wife are the only ones who call him Kevin (but of that I can’t really be sure).  Smitty is a high school teacher and hockey coach and like me, a life long Bruin fan, and fan of the sport in general.

The man had a Stanley Cup groom’s cake at his wedding. Clearly, this man is our hero.

Through sickness, health, and hockey season...

Smitty emails me Monday morning.

Cue me, freaking out.

I message him back immediately.

My response reads something like: “COUNT ME IN!  Holy #@%*.  I love you!  How much are the tickets?  Oh really?  That much?  Whatever.  That’s cool.  I’ll just eat ramen for a month.”

I get all light-headed.  Have to sit down.  *deep breath*

Wednesdays are grad school days for me, but fortunately my professor is a sports psychologist and hockey fan, so he was very understanding when I told him I had to leave early because I was going to Game 4.

As I make my way down Canal Street to the Garden, I am engulfed in a sea of black and gold…with bit of white and blue mixed in.

Brave orcas.

The closer I get to the Garden, the more my heart starts to flutter.

I’m really here.

This is really happening.

Before heading to our seats (in Club Section 145, no less), quick stop is made at the Bruins Pro Shop.  One must mark this occasion with SCF accoutrements, including a t-shirt and banner.

Now, my office looks even better.

Finally we make to our seats and the significance of the moment finally hits me.

I made it. I’m at the Stanley Cup Finals.

Stanley Cup Finals. I went to there.

The Stanley Cup Finals are a special sporting event, but it takes on a whole new meaning and significance when your team are the ones playing for it.

From warm-ups to the announcement of the Three Stars, the atmosphere in the Garden was super-charged, like a summer thunderstorm.

Every single person in that arena was sending out the most positive beautiful energy that it is hard to believe how the players couldn’t feel it seeping through the walls into the locker room.

Every time Nathan Horton’s name was mentioned or they showed a fan wearing his jersey, the crowd erupted in cheers and applause.  In only his first season as a Bruin, NH18 has made his mark as a fan favorite and the outpouring of love from the Black and Gold faithful has to help speed up his recover.

Bruins legend Bobby Orr (#4) was the honorary flag bearer for the start of the game.  Fittingly, he waved Horton’s flag, as a salute to the injured Bruins forward.

Genius move, Bruins.  Way to lift the crowd to an whole other level of controlled frenzy.

(Sidenote: Bobby Orr is like 65, but he is still WAY hot.)

Silver Fox.

Do it for Horty.

The game itself was everything that one could hope for in a SCF game…unless you are a Canucks fan.  The Green Men were very sad.

The Bruins were dominant, controlled, quick to the puck.

Their penalty kill continues to shine (21 for 22 in this series).

Bruins D-fence remains dominant in shutting down Vancouver’s offensive threats. I think it is because of Adam McQuaid’s mullet.  That thing is glorious and magical.

Tim Thomas’s Vezina stock continues to rise with every acrobatic, heart-stopping save that he makes.  The man is a beast, albeit a fluffy, smiley beast.   I just want to hug him so tight.

"Hey there! What's up? Nothing too much here. Just playing goal like I'm out of my gourd."

They showed Marc Savard on the jumbotron.  The place went nuts.  Please come back soon.  I miss you.

They showed Rachel McAdams on the jumbotron.  A lot.  Couldn’t tell if she was rooting for the Bruins or the Canucks, but she looked like she was having fun, so that’s cool.

Going to a Stanley Cup Finals game is a once in a lifetime experience but to be able to experience it with your hometown team, on home ice, is something entirely transcendental.

It leaves you with a feeling of elation.  Of glee.  Of passion. Of adoration.  Of worship.  

And most of all, of pride.  

Well, they got that win…and then some.

They mauled the Canucks with their big, sharp claws.

Bear’s Victory Dance is well deserved.

Bruins play best when they are infuriated.  Aaron Rome gave them plenty to be P.O’d about after his late, blind side hit on Nathan Horton.  Horton lay on the ice, motionless, his right arm frozen as if he was still clutching the stick.  His eyes were fluttering as if he was having a petite mal seizure.  Terrifying to watch.  I don’t think that there was a single hockey fan, Bruin or Canuck alike, who wasn’t praying and hoping that NH18 would be okay.  Horton was transported to the hospital strapped to a stretcher.  Rome was tossed.  Bruins got a 5 minute PP.  Although they failed to capitalize on the man advantage, it seemed to ignite a fire within the belly of the bear. Players said that during the 1st intermission, the Bruins rallied around their injured teammate and vowed “to win one for Horty.” 

The Killer Bs came out of locker room, impassioned and determined to avenge their comrade-in-ice. 11 seconds into the 2nd, Andrew Ference (the original Green man) put the Black and Gold on the board with a slapshot from the point…

And the Bruins never looked back.

They poured it and managed to solve the goaltending puzzle that is Roberto Luongo.  Apparently, the key is to go high and go glove side.  Bruins beat him 3 times on the glove side and the other goals (with the exception of Kesler’s own goal) were up around Luongo’s ears. 

Apparently, the Bruins can’t score on the PP but they can shorthanded.  2 SHG.  They keep producing like that, we’ll gladly welcome those penalties!

Bruins had 7 different goal scores which shows the depth of the team’s forwards and their skill with the puck.  Marchand’s goal was highlight reel material and the little Motoscooter’s post goal celebration rivals the joyful exuberance of Dawn’s future 2nd husband, Alex Ovechkin.

They are way too happy to pay any attention to the moron flashing them...

Tim Thomas frustrated the Canucks with his in-cre-ab-leh saves and feats of flexibility.  He even managed to lay a hit on Henrik Sedin that would make Bill Belichick proud.

Protecting the house.

 If this guy doesn’t win the Vezina, than every GM in the NHL needs to have his head examined.  Sure, we might me a *bit* bias, but seriously.  Have you been watching him play?  Tim Thomas = Beast of the East.

 The Bruins D shut down the SedinBots, Kesler, Burrowes, et al with authority.  Getting Shawn Thornton into the lineup was a stellar move by Coach Claude.  It’s was like waking the bear from hibernation.  Who was grumpy.  And hungry. We’re all Seguinistas here but in this situation, it was best to sit the kid and go with the heart, toughness, and SCF experience that  ST22 brings to the team.  Plus he talks trash like nobody’s business.  Constantly yapping away, that one.

I could go on and on about all the things that the Bruins did right and all the things that the Canucks did wrong, but frankly I’m just mentally exhausted.  Energy must be conserved since I’ll be in the stands for Game 4.

I’ll try to tweet but I don’t know if my hands will stop shaking enough.

It also happened to be totally crappy and soul-sucking.

My patronus is a fuzzy brown bear.

As the tornado watch loomed over the city of Boston, the thunder boomed, and lightning lit up the sky like a Polish dyskotekya, the Bruins were just 18 seconds from heading into overtime with the Canucks.

But then Johnny Boychuk made a teeny mistake…

Ryan Kessler made a great pass…

Yannick Hansen made an other great pass…

and Raffi Torres slipped the puck past Timmy Thomas.

Canucks win.

The apartment goes silent.  I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

Collapse on the floor like I’ve been ninja kicked in the face.

...hai-YA...

A crushing loss to be sure, but then again aren’t all losses in June, when your team is playing for the biggest, shiniest, purtiest trophy in all of sport?

Thomas and Luongo played out of their craniums and denied both teams numerous scoring chances.  At times, the game was chippy and physical and downright bizarre.  Alex Burrows going all pre-school and biting Patrice Bergeron?  What?  Really?  No penalty was called but you can be sure that the NHL will review that scrizz.

But the Professor ain’t fazed by it.  He’s too smaht for that.

The Professor speaks out...click for video footage...

Despite the imperfect outcome, the Bruins should be very proud of the way that they played.  They played a solid, physical game and made the Canucks work for every inch.  Bruins d-men did a great job disrupting the SedinBots’ dolphin sonar, as either Henrik or Daniel had any points; Henrik had a big ‘ol fat goose egg with SOG and Daniel only had 8.

Lots of hockey writers, reporters and prognosticators thought that the Bruins wouldn’t stand a chance against the powerhouse Canucks.  “They’re too fast.”  “They’re too talented.”  “The Sedin twins are magical and drink mineral water from goblets made of unicorn horns.” But the Bs proved that they are a team that deserves to have their shot at Lord Stanley’s Cup.  They belong with the big boys.

While I wanted to curl up into the fetal position and cry last night, I’m feeling much better today.  The series is still young and there is many a game left to play.

And like the Rev. Jesse Jackson said, “Keep Hope Alive!”

Is this really happening?  Is the team that I’ve rooted for and cheered for all season really in the Stanley Cup Finals?

Hell ya, they are!

Bruins and Canucks will face off at 8pm EST in Game 1 of the 2011 Stanley Cup Finals.  I’m supposed to have grad class until 8pm but I’m totally planning on having to “go to the bathroom” and racing home (as much as one can race on public transportation) to watch the game.  I was invited to a meetup of Canadian ex-pats in Boston to watch the game, but they’ll all be cheering for the Canucks and I don’t know if I can handle that…

There has been a lot of media coverage of the SCF here in Boston (natch) and with that comes some awesome photos and screen caps of our most favorite Bruins players.  I only felt is was far to share them with our loyal readers because regardless of your personal hockey affiliation,  you understand the magnitude of the Stanley Cup Finals and what it means to the Canucks and Bruins hockey fans everywhere.

Plus their beards and faces are awesome.  See evidence below.

You’re welcome.

GO BRUINS!

Hi-fives for everyone!

Click, Click, Click...BOOM!

"I once caught a Canuck aboot this...big..."

Learning about the elusive creature known as the...Power Play Goal.

Still pondering just how in the world he made that save on Steve Downie...

Krecji looking all kinds of Euro

.:love:.

I already got my name on the Stanley Cup...what about you?

Teen Wolf like shiny cup.

Notice who's on the wall behind him. *good omen*

"I am Darth Quaider. You will fear me...and my mullet"

Czech me out, ladies.

Why hello there, Boych. Don't you look foxy. P.S. Your profile is *swoon*

The Professor has tenure with the Bruins. 7 years. He's only 25.