& a blog

They announced that Boston would be hosting the 2010 Winter Classic back in April. I was ecstatic. Never a fan of hockey in high school, a few years of intramural ice time at Brown has made me a devoted fan of the sport. I have gone from hating hockey in every and all permutation to actually catching Bruins games whenever I can. I saw my first B’s game with my Dad just 3 years ago, and even got gifted some tickets from Professor who couldn’t make a game this past November. That game turned out to be a 3-0 upset of Sidney Crosby and the Pittsburgh Penguins.

There was no way I was going miss the Winter Classic. I grew up just a mile from Fenway, and from my Dad’s house you see the lights of the park. I entered the lottery for tickets, not that I could afford them, remembering all those times my Dad and I had managed to get tickets off scalpers. When I finally got a chance to bid on tickets the only ones left were … expensive.

But it was all good. Cuz as a college kid, wandering around the park on game day is often enough to get me stoked for the competition. And that’s what I did for the biggest game in Bruins history ( I mean attendance, of 38,000 or so, but also in terms of prestige and national visibility). On New Year’s Day, I woke up in Boston and headed down to the Park with my friend Ryan to take in the festivities. We wandered around the park, shooting photos, thumbing thru the memorabilia, and scouting out bars. When we finally got to Jillian’s on Lansdowne we knew we were in the right place- no cover, no line, and hundreds of TVs greeted our entrance.

We picked up a prime spot at the bar and watched the first two periods. We winced at the Flyers goal, which was clearly a result of Tim Thomas’ over-anxious check and failure to watch the puck, and applauded the fight. We sat on edge with our Winter Classic souvenir cups praying that Tim Thomas’ miraculous skills would stop the constant Flyers’ threat. And our prayers were answered.

When Recchi scored the game tying goal with 2:31 left, Jillians went crazy. Across the street we could hear the 38,000 at Fenway even louder.

A few minutes later, when Marco Sturm scored the winner, we went absolutely ballistic. Pouring onto Lansdowne, we joined our jubilant Bruins brethern puncuated only occassionally by a Philly fan or two who were taking the loss pretty well (see photos).

While looking for this awesome commemorative hat (which I did not find and cannot find anywhere) I followed the advice of a fellow fan and actually walked into Fenway. I was looking for a souvenir shop, but finding it lacking my desired hat, simply continued down the concourse into the heart of the stadium. There was no one there to stop us, so we walked out into the grandstand. And there was the rink, perched in a stadium of snow, looking like magic.

Hockey has never looked so beautiful.