Boston, the Bruins and Me

Falling Hard

The beauty of sports is that they encourage polygamy. A marriage to one club in no way precludes a fan from a full and total commitment to anther club that bears the same city on its uniform. Seasons bleed into one another so that when one organization breaks your heart, another one is there to begin the mending process.

Over the past decade, the frenzied successes by New England sports teams have not just been an exercise in speed dating, but speed marriages, speed child births, speed anniversaries, and yes, hyper-accelerated heartbreaks. In the past 10 years, Boston teams have played in 13 conference finals, the play-in games that come before championship bouts, winning 9 of them, and have brought home 6 titles overall thus far. It's remarkable, unprecedented, and, frankly, still not enough.

Because nowadays, to be a Boston fan is to want them all. People can classify this as a positive, as the fan base is informed and passionate, or negative, in that some sense of entitlement might have fostered through the embarrassment of riches, but that sort of judgment sort of misses the point.

Boston fans have honed an eye for what it takes to win titles in sports, so when a team comes up short, we have a good idea why it happened, and when they pull through with trophies and rings, we make sure to appreciate it in its fullest.

The Patriots broke the modern championship seal, and went on to set the standard in excellence.

The Red Sox romantically broke curses amidst high drama that spanned generations.

The Celtics restored a revered brand to its grand pedigree almost overnight, reminding fans that, truly, anything was possible.

The Revolution, well, they existed.

But what to make of the Boston Bruins? What is the modern legacy for the team that faces a do-or-die Game 7 at home with a trip to the Stanley Cup playoffs on the line?

They're the only heartbreak left in town, with their last Cup win coming in 1972, and their last appearance in the series over twenty years ago. They were once the class of the town. Number Four Bobby Orr is as beloved as any sports hero. Their status as part of the NHL's Original Six gives them cache and authenticity in a league where franchises are sometimes perceived as disconnected from the sport and the foreigners that are paid to play it. After years of mismanagement and disappointment, their fans are as embittered and fatalistic as they come. They have all the makings of the highest drama sports have to offer.

The Journey

But sports don't take place in a vacuum. Every fan finds their own unique relationships with teams, sports, and seasons. Sports forge communal bonds, help us demarcate time in our lives, and do it dealing out equal parts ecstasy and agony. So when the Bruins play tonight, whether it makes sense or not, lives will be changed. And not just those of the players and coaches.

When the Patriots won their first Super Bowl, I was (nominally) a high school football player. I was actually, as mascot coincidence would have it, a Patriot. I watched the professional team alongside the same young men whom I watched play Friday nights from the sidelines. I would say I had about the same impact on the outcomes of both.

When the Red Sox made their run, which began when a 2003 team that seemed destined to break curses lost in as devastating a fashion as the city had ever seen, only to carry over its successes and baggage to the next year, ending with 2004's greatest-comeback-ever-seen to the same opponents, I was a student among a massive state university fraternity that first mourned, then celebrated as one. I literally fell in love during that first run to the World Series, and perhaps fittingly that love ran its course almost to the day that the Red Sox won their second championship of the 21st century.

When the Celtics decimated the Lakers for their title, I was a returned citizen to the city's urbane streets. I had been living in another city since graduation, but came home just like the NBA's Larry O'Brien trophy. Boston was no longer somewhere to be visited on weekends or for occasions, its city streets and squares were home.

Retrospectively, those titles have given my life structure. They feed into my own personal narrative, as I am sure they feed into others', (mine maybe more-so; I am somewhat obsessed). But I am still in no way sure what to make of these Bruins.

We've casually dated before, these Bruins and me. We went on low-pressure coffee dates in 2004, as I watched Joe Thornton and Sergei Samsanov's squad underachieve. They were given the same opportunity for a stake in my heart as every other team, but when the rubber hit the road, I, like all other Bruins fans, die-hard or budding potential ones, was left feeling like a burnt skidmark.

Iron cast doubt

Everybody loses in sports. But no matter what any cliché says, how you lose really does matter. When the Red Sox lost, it felt fated, as if it were part of the franchise's core identity. When the Patriots lost, after building a huge reservoir of successes to draw from, there was nearly always a clear explanation to their losses, because it was evident that all things being equal they were always the better team to take the field. With the Celtics, their storied history was so far back in the rear view that it was almost accepted that they would never reach that level again, so instead fans could kick back and watch the athletes' potential grow without expectation.

But what were we to think of the Black and Gold Spokes? What is their modern legacy?

That 2004 team was upset in 7 games by their most bitter rivals, the Montreal Canadiens. When they next qualified for the playoffs, in 2008, they were once again matched up against the hated Habs, and while this time the B's played the role of the underdog, they still fell in that seventh game. The next year they opened once again against Montreal, only this time they swept their way to victory in 4 games. This was thoroughly cathartic until they again lost in a game 7, the very next round, and this time on the Garden's home ice to a hockey team from Carolina. Because everyone knows all the best hockey is played south of the Mason Dixon.

This was a young team, it was said, whose stock was on the rise and whose best days were ahead. But while sports narratives are often predictable, they are not always linear.

But with the 2009-2010 team, the Bruins committed one of the greatest atrocities imaginable for a sports team.

For Boston fans, there was only one 3-0 series comeback that mattered. In 2004, the battered Red Sox lost Game 3 of the ALCS by an eery score of 19-8, putting them in an 0-3 hole against the indomitable Yankees. But then, in Game 4, Millar drew a walk, Roberts stole a base, Mueller singled off the most dominant pitcher of modern times, and before anyone knew what happened the Red Sox had won 4 straight games. It was pure, unadulterated sports euphoria. The Comeback for Boston, the Choke for New York.

Well, in 2010, the Bruins sullied 3-0. In the second round, against the Philadelphia Flyers, the Bruins won the first three games of the series. Not only did they have a 3-0 lead, but by the time the Flyers had won three straight of their own and the series was forced to a climactic Game 7, once again to be held at the Garden, the Bruins thrice struck first and took a 3-0 lead in that game.

And they lost.

Now 3-0 was a set of numbers that cut Boston fans both ways. Sure, it wasn't as iconic a loss as the win was for the Red Sox, but it was still there, haunting a team that had fought so hard to earn respect in a town where attention where attention was easily diffused.

There were no shortage of valid reasons the Bruins lost that series the way they did. A young team, a younger netminder, injuries to both bodies and brains, but ultimately, sports are a results-oriented business where final scores dictate final narratives. Yearly sports almanacs don't lie. The Bruins choked. By every definition

Redemption and attention

There are real monetary benefits to be had in Boston's sports market. Perform well, and people will notice. Sports television is a monster industry in this town, across media platforms new and old. Networks use teams and sports to compete with one another. Sports personalities stake out their territory and defend it like wild animals. Sports are about the games, presumably, but even when those are done there is huge money to be made in talking about the ways and wherefores of each result, because in this town when people say “everyone has an opinion,” it really means everyone.

Beyond that, attending games is a huge premium. Ticket scalping has gone from city streets to web markets, transforming the secondary market to a legitimate enterprise somewhere along the way.

So again, it pays to be good.

Fans are passionate enough to watch, listen, and pay for entry, but that passion can also breed hostility. You have our attention, the logic seems to go, so don't fucking blow it.

Well, the Bruins finally have everyone's attention.

After last year's ugliness, it was going to take some work to get back in this town's favor. Bruins fans felt like a spouse betrayed, they were open to reconciliation, but trust would need to be earned before it was given freely.

After an up-and-down regular season, the Bruins were once again pitted against the Canadiens to open these Stanley Cup playoffs. They hosted the series, and once again, before anyone could catch their breath, they were down 0-2 headed up to Canada. It looked like it would be a short run this year.

But the Bruins battled. They won the two games in Montreal, then took Game 5 in Boston, and after dropping their first chance to close out on away ice, and after surrendering a tying goal in the final moments of the latest Game 7 at the Garden, they took the game and the series on an electric overtime goal. Finally, after the last three seasons had ended in Game 7 losses, with the last two coming at the Garden, the B's had broken through.

With one albatross off the team's back, they packed up and headed to Philadelphia. Even when the Bruins won their first three games against the Flyers, ambient anxiety remained. They'd choked away control of a series to these guys before. Throughout the regular season management had cited that the team had made the second round of the playoffs for the past three years as evidence of its successes, but fans could only lament the inability to advance deeper, and if this year didn't end with demonstrable progress, heads would roll.

But the Bruins did sweep, which, again, in the tidy world of sports' narratives, perfectly forgave the sins of the previous year. Mission Accomplished. Sort of.

And this is where Boston's string of successes returns to the fore. The Bruins are playing deeper into the playoffs than they have in almost 20 years. They are playing later into the calendar year than they ever have before. The Celtics' season ended earlier and more abruptly than anyone would have expected, the Red Sox have underachieved, and the Patriots are mired in the NFL's obtuse lockout. That the Bruins have even booked another night of drama at the Garden should be enough. We should be grateful to even be given the opportunity to root for someone, anyone, with stakes this high at this point in the summer.

But being happy to be there is for losers. The Hub won't have it.

There is a team in Vancouver that is waiting to find out who will be its dance partner in this year's Stanley Cup Finals.

There is a 37-year-old goalie who has spent a lifetime trying to earn his respect. He has made the save of a lifetime, but unless he makes a few more, it will fall to the annals of history as another great moment that was not quite iconic.

There's a Norris Award winner who has been deemed an underachiever for most of his professional life almost exclusively because of the impossible expectations set by his 6' 9” frame.

There is an alternate captain that has been forced to fight concussions throughout his career.

There's a coach looking for a trump card to play against those who doubt his acumen and ability.

There's a forty-something looking for the icing on the cake of his Hall of Fame career.

There's a 19 year old top pick desperate to prove he is more than a flash in the pan.

There's a power play that is dangerously close to writing the wrong side of history.

There are these and a million more stories, all at stake, all on the line tonight. There are old men who care only for hockey who want that last return to the Finals. There are kids who will learn how to be a fan. There are blowhards that are eager to say “I told you so,” no matter the outcome. There are the selfish masses that want the final gem to be added to Boston's crown of champions. There are people that will fall in love, people that will find faith, people that break dishes, people that gamble, people who riot, and people who will do nothing more than read tomorrow's newspaper with a little more interest.

All of this hinges on a win or a loss. A break of the puck. A lapse, an opportunity capitalized or squandered, a hit made or missed.

I'm not sure what a win or a loss will mean to me. It will depend, I suppose, on how it goes. But I know it will mean something to me.

I look back on the teams I have committed myself to for the last decade, and I regret nothing. I got as much as I gave. Even the teams that failed, even the ones that choked, even the ones that left me in tears, I think, in the moment, and as I look back, I loved them all equally.

Maybe you think sports matter too much to Boston. Maybe you look at us and wonder why we put so much energy into things we can't control. But we know better. We know that by watching, we are in control. We know our attentive eyes can, in fact, change the outcome of games.

We've seen it.

Go get 'em, boys.

-Brendan McGuirk, Professional Boston Fan

5-27-2011

May Showers

Big Shots rain down on the NBA... and 'nets.



May's a mercurial month. In New England after April, it isn't so much that winter ends, it's that summer begins- unpredictably- and then goes back to being winter for a day. Then that reverses. And so on and so on until eventually the cold days aren't that cold, and the warm days are uncomfortably warm, and that's when it's June.

It's also a month of note because the NBA playoffs happen then. For the most part, I've watched basketball intently for every night of the last month. It's been exciting and exhausting. Combined with a relatively slow month of comics it led to a lot of frenetic in-game Twittering, but not much substance. In any case but it's time for some links. Afterwards I'm going to vent about sports. Because that's what I do.

I try not to spotlight the same creators too often, as I think the gets who don't get the pub need the spotlight more, but with Geoff Johns, I can't help myself. He's just really good at teasing out plot points over just long enough for them to be impossibly urgent and drawn-out. He's a trade-friendly evolution of Chris Claremont, only instead of the X-Corner of Marvel he has the entire DCU at his fingertips. The way Legion of Three Worlds is streamlining that mythos while interplaying with current continuity is fascinating. Plus, George Perez is no joke. I mean, I make no bones about it, I'm a sucker for both these guys' work, and I am a sucker for Johns' take on the Conner Kent Superboy. Before that issue I was totally ambivalent about Adventure Comics, now it can't come soon enough. Like I said, I'm a sucker.

Despite my primary specialty in comics' critique, within the medium I try to be as "general interest," as I can. Adam Beechen and Trevor Hairsine's Killapalooza, with a super-group ripped from Behind the Music that moonlights as hired mercenaries, was a fun example of this. I really think anybody who spent an hour of their life watching the saga of Journey, or the trials of Jon Bon Jovi's hair, would like this book. It's just funny.

Another general-interest comicbook was the Spider-Man: The Short Halloween one- shot by Saturday Night Live cast members and writers Bill Hader and Seth Myers. I knew Hader was a comics' guy, he's been at conventions and used to frequent a store I worked at, and I think SNL is as good as it's been in my lifetime right now, so I was happy to spotlight their issue. It didn't disappoint, but it didn't "wow," me either. Based on merit alone, I'm not sure this book would warrant a follow-up assignment. It's not that the story is bad, but Spider-Man could be replaced by just about any costumed hero in this story, and it would be no different. The sales might tip the scales, though, and I wouldn't be against seeing more from the pair, or Kevin Maguire. I would only hope they get a little more into Spider-Man, and let the situational humor grow from there.




After working for Laura Hudson on the too-beautiful-for-this-world Comic Foundry magazine, she was kind enough to invite me to do a piece for her newest venture Comics Alliance. I'd stalled a bit to try and find the right angle to tackle for my first CA foray, but when Archie Comics announced Archie's marriage, I knew what I had to do. Due to the peculiarities of my fundamental being, I decided I would make the case for Veronica over Betty. Now, when the nuptials were first announced, Archie Comics hid the identity of Archie's bride, but by the time I'd written my piece it had been revealed to be in accordance with my preferences. Now, I suffer no delusions that this story will be told and Archie will go on married to Veronica, or that Betty won't crash the party somehow, but I'm pretty pleased with the case I made for Archie's bachelorhood. Now, as far as in real life choosing between the good girl and the bad, I don't know if I believe my case. But then, if it were as easy a choice as everyone would like to believe it wouldn't be such a classic love-triangle. Or maybe I just like to pick fights. Who even knows.


So that's what's been up in comics. But the thing that has dominated my life, again, have been a playoffs so addictive the FDA might have to get involved. Despite the ongoing drama of the piss-poor officiating, it has been a season of athletic studs taking teams on their backs' and seeing how far they can go. As a guy who likes comics, I'll say it; 'Melo, Superman, Kobe and LeBron have been downright superheroic.

Despite my rambling last post, I'm more than just a homer with regards to sports. It really sucked to see the Celtics loose how in the fashion that they did, but these playoffs were worth the price of admission. And as much as it sucked to see the Magic beat the Celtics in Game 1, it was worth it to see them in Game 5's late-surging win. It was especially gratifying for me, because Stephon Marbury had his two best games in green those games.



Starbury, like Corey Dillon, and Randy Moss before him, is the classic example of the media-driven "athlete as a bad-boy," malcontent that this town absolutely loathes until they prove themselves to be productive. Everybody hated Randy Moss when he got to New England. He was going to be a step slow, they said, and he would disrupt the proven team chemistry. Dillon too. He was the Bengals' all-time rushing leader when we got him for practically nothing. Dillon won a Super Bowl and Moss set the record for receiving TDs in a record-setting offense. They became heroes, but began as villains.

Well Marbury had the full rap sheet- from a trade-demanding early career, to an embarrassing sexual testimony in a harassment case, and ultimately a season-long benching. Now, I'm not saying that he didn't have his share of responsibility in all of this, but he was a productive player, making a lot of money while sitting on the bench. It was a dysfunctional move for a dysfunctional organization. And this was after the slate was supposed to have been wiped clean with new management. Well whatever, he was cut loose eventually and wanted to sign with the Celtics, as they had become the strongest team of veterans in the NBA. It had been the Pistons before, but this was now the organization, along with San Antonio, that productive veterans wanted to be a part of. After a year out of pro basketball Marbury was rusty, but also humbled.

It showed. He was really trying to be a team player in a way unlike ever before in his career. He was doing it to the detriment of his own game, and what the team wanted out of him. But he was trying. This was a guy who'd averaged over 7 assists a game for his career, but was playing 40 minutes a game. He was out there for maybe 15 minutes a game now. He just couldn't get right. It was a hard combination of not having the legs to be the explosive scorer he was used to being while also trying to relearn his killer instinct. Everyone was waiting for him to have an impactful [that's not a word, but I can't get over how many people use it, so I'm going with it here] game where he went for 2+. He had a handful of big shots in games, but the big game? Didn't happen.

Game 1 teased it. The Celtics, after going down big at the half, got themselves within a Ray Allen three of winning that game and who was there to thank? My man, @StaryburyMarbury. He'd had a crazy streak in the third where he just couldn't miss, and it was the energy that got them, not the win, but the hunger for that game back. It wasn't much of a legacy, but it was the game people had been waiting for.



Until Game 5. The Celtics were down again, late, and Steph kicked it into gear. He had 12 in the fourth quarter, and this time Ray's big three sunk, and the Celtics won the game. It was a huge game, it gave the Celtics a 3-2 advantage in the best of seven series, and was as close as the Celtics got to defending their 2007-08 Championship. The C's lost Game 6 in Orlando in a game they just gave away, an Game 7 at home in a game they didn't show up for. The team had been eking out wins without their low-post foundation and defensive x-factor Kevin Garnett, but each one had been a titanic struggle, and in Game 7 it finally showed. In fact, it probably showed in Game 6 when the team let slip away a fourth quarter lead of their own. But they'd battled valiantly, and as reward were spared the embarrassment of getting their asses handed to them by LeBron and the Cavaliers.

I'm really grateful to have seen the Celtics last win as champions, because they really played like it in that win. And Steph led the charge. Who knows if he'll resign, or even be a productive NBA player going forward, but following his success with vested interest is one of those unique rewards offered by following sports. Given the consequences they engender, there are countless narratives to be enjoyed. And who doesn't enjoy a good tale of redemption.



The Magic have turned out to be great foils for the Cavaliers, which anyone who had looked at their head-to-head record was saying before the series, and given the decisive 3-1 lead they took the other night, they should be heavily expected to advance to the NBA Finals. But as long as the Cavs still have the best player in the series, never mind the best player in the game, I still expect LeBron to take the next 2 wins and advance to his second Finals appearance.

Because, I mean, Kobe's waiting there. He had to fight through West Baltimore's finest Carmelo Anthony, the forgotten dark prince of King James' draft class, and Conference Finals mainstay Chauncey Billups, and the rest of George Karl's rejuvenated Nuggets. It took the Lakers 6 games, but they did it. We can't have just half of those Kobe/ LeBron puppets playing for the trophy, and Dwight Howard is too damn big to be a puppet, so LeBron has to make it. Every real NBA fan wants it to happen. We want this argument settled. We don't care who's better; Pau Gasol or Dwight Howard. This is an MVP thang.

In any case, we'll see. It's been a monumentally memorable postseason, thanks in no small part to this guy's TNT video-



Back to your regularly scheduled programming:
...

A Distillation of Victory

As a sports fan lucky enough to be from Boston, in these modern days, I am acquainted with the luxury and spoils brought by victory. And winning is baller.



A championship, even merely spectated, creates a shared experience that serve as validation of the investments of time and mental energy put forth by the rigors of fandom.

It is also a celebration of unity and community. In land where we spend more time griping about our differences than similarities, there are few opportunities to truly share.

And so when the clock struck 11:00 P.M. last Tuesday, and every major network announced that Barack Obama had been called to serve as the 44th president of these United States, the jubilation that erupted in the streets and on the broadcasts across the country was not personally unprecedented. It reminded me, hey, this is simply what it feels like to win.



Maybe it illicits hugs from total strangers. It may boil down to simple eye contact made with another, silently sharing the moment. Maybe you get lucky. Weeping, cheering, dancing, and drinking are all pretty acceptable options. I personally took a hint from Celtics' patriarch Red Aurbach, and coolly, arrogantly lit a cigar.

But the important thing is the embrace of the moment; the assuring knowledge that this is pretty much as good as it gets. The world is so big, and its issues so unwieldy, it is easy to forget the sensation of the good guys victorious.

It took actually happening for everyone to fully realize how much we needed this. The subtexts of this election were extrapolated upon at length, but more importantly than any particular racial hurdle, the country needed to have something “trancendent” to rally around. We needed to feel good again.






Too often, we only really share the negative. We go through economic crises together. We grow weary of our international responsibilities together. We mourn the tragic loss of brothers and sisters together.

Which is funny, because shared suffering makes up the main thrust of sports' fandom.

For years, Red Sox fans understood their lot in life. Ours was a predetermined destiny. We were the “Wait until next year,” team. This was an identity that reinforced itself more and more every year. Every loss, and every failure only dug us deeper into a state of perpetual disappointment and inferiority.

Then they overcame it. The burden was relieved, and a new era began. A new brand, a new identity, and a new perspective was granted. We made it. And due to the many years of suffering, we knew we'd earned it.




And that was what happened. It wasn't that Barack was the Black president. He was the Right president. This was not an apology by the American people to any specific community, or an exercise in affirmative action, or an optimistic roll of the dice. This was an informed opinion. This election does not change American history, but it does change the course of it. Change came to America. While the President-elect has a steep challenge ahead of him, he is only asked what we ask every Head of State; be our best. Represent our ideals, respect our wishes, make our difficult decisions and we will stand behind you.

We vote to select our leadership, but after that we are pretty much spectators. It doesn't mean what happens doesn't effect us, but we have mostly surrendered our power and are in it for the ride. Over the course of a term, or a season, there are peaks and valleys. There are big losses, and minor victories. But what we need to remember is that we are all on the same team. We all want the same things. We want to end up at the same place.



The winner's circle.

There are very few moments that truly transcend the individual experience for the societal one. What's more, when they do happen, they are too often marred by tragedy. But sometimes, if you're patient, if you're lucky, and if you back the right horse, there is a reward at the finish line. Winning feels good. And it's addictive.

Now that we've all voted, we've surrendered any sort of control. Among us, there will inherently be those who will criticize every move- Monday Morning Quaterbacks, or armchair managers ready and eager to discuss shortcomings at length. There will be others who instead defend and rationalize. We will clash and argue about it because we care about the outcome, because it is our only power.

But as we learned last Tuesday, we can celebrate together. Let's hold on to that.

See you at the Inauguration. I'll be the one with the cigar.