OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD.
I don't think it could possibly get any better than this.
Tonight is Game 1 of our first-round playoffs match-up against the hated Canadiens, our arch-rival since the earliest days of professional hockey. The historical buildup to any Bruins/Habs event is always enormous, but this year, we've got a particular grievance to settle: we faced them in last year's first round as the adorably doomed 8th seed to their best-in-the-conference might and lost a ferocious 7-game series in a blowout. Allow me to remind you of last year's series:
Game 1: Montreal, 4-1. Cue the histrionics and the north-of-the-border wankery (I think they spell it "wanquerie") about what a GREAT team these 2008 Canadiens are and what a MIRACULOUSLY TALENTED YOUNG THING, OH HEAVENS Carey Price is. I am making the jerk-off motion AS HARD AS I POSSIBLY CAN.
Game 2: Montreal, 3-2 (OT). Wait, what? The Bruins aren't completely hapless? Well slap me silly, 'cause I could have SWORN Kevin Paul duPont told me we were dead in the water. A loss, yes, but this game was as breathless and exciting as you could have asked for.
Game 3: Boston, 2-1 (OT). AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! I am going to start an R&B group called Savvy! Savvi! Savvé! in honor of Marc Savard's OT goal to win this game for the B's. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Game 4: Montreal, 1-0. WHAT?! You mean we DIDN'T automatically win the series after that amazing Game 3 win? God I hate Gary Bettman.
Game 5: Boston, 5-1. Sometimes I touch myself to this one. This was at the Bell Centre, too. Ha! Hahahahahahaha!
Game 6: Boston, 5-4. Amazing. Heart-poundingly, nipple-hardeningly, orgasm-inducingly amazing. Sobotka! Lucic! Kessel! Sturm! The greatest 3rd period of hockey I've ever witnessed. This was Game 4 of the 2004 ALCS-type huge. I genuinely believe that years from now, when we look back at the incredible season-to-season turnaround of our beloved black-and-gold, we will point to this game as the precipitating moment in which the fierce young Bruins finally came together as a team. Do you want me to continue with the masturbatory sports rhetoric? BECAUSE I WILL GO ON.
Game 7: Go fuck yourself, Montreal. 5-0, Habs, and a big sloppy-teared letdown for the Boston faithful. LET US NEVER SPEAK OF THIS AGAIN.
I don't need to tell you that this year is a whole different game. This time, it's the Bruins who are riding high atop the East -- they've had a death grip on first place since the early weeks of the season and finished with a 53-19-10 record. It's the Canadiens, this time, who are sneaking in with the #8 seed and a team that, 2 months ago, seemed destined to spend the month of April golfing with the Atlanta Thrashers. (That Colby Armstrong is such a character! LOL!) We've strapped on our thigh-high leather boots and dominated Montreal all season long... suddenly, it's the Flying Frenchmen who are the underdogs, and their scrappy Boston counterpart to whom many eyes are looking as the likely next Stanley Cup winners.
Based on a sophisticated new technology, invented and patented by me, I was able to use the results of last year's series combined with this year's play (5-0-1 against the Habs!) and some high-level statistical analysis to project the results of this year's series.
Game 1: 5-3, Boston. Tim Thomas struggles in the second period but is saved by a flurry of scoring from the David Krejci line in the 3rd. Many asinine puns, including "A Winning Hab-it?", are produced in local sports media. Blades is arrested for humping a ketchup cart on the 300-level.
Game 2: 2-0, Boston. The appearance of a package of Dunkaroos in Thomas' locker immediately prior to the game inspires him to play the best game of his life. A spectacular fight between Georges Laraque and Milan Lucic results in the tossing of several dozen pairs of panties onto the ice at the Garden; coincidentally, scientists discover a new, airborne strain of herpes originating from the Saugus area and currently raging through Chelsea several weeks later.
Game 3: 3-1, Montreal. A return home galvanizes the struggling Habs to earn their first win of the season against the Bruins. The Kostitsyn brothers blow several dozen lines of coke off the ass of a Montreal transvestite in celebration. Guy Carbonneau watches at home over a Lean Cuisine. We are all treated to approximately 80,000 hours of blather about how it's the Canadiens' 100th anniversary. Look, Montreal: that magic number bullshit didn't help the Cubs, and it ain't gonna help you.
Game 4: 7-1, Boston. BECAUSE FUCK YOU, MONTREAL. THAT'S WHY.
Game 5: 1-0, Boston. The Bruins seal the series victory at home in front of a roaring crowd of Bostonians. Patrice Bergeron scores the game's lone goal. Tim Thomas, asked at a press conference how he feels about having 2 shutouts in a playoffs series, begins to cry noisily in confusion and is quickly ushered off the platform by the Ice Girls. Andrew Ference takes the T home.
So there you have it! I can assure you that all of the above information is completely accurate, but I suppose it might be worth it to catch the games anyway. You know, so you can hear Jack Edwards giggle every time he pronounces the name "Kostitsyn."