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𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 jerseys filled the streets of Montreal, Quebec, just outside of the Bell Center. The air was electric, filled with thrilling fans and their equally ecstatic visitors; Boston Bruin Fans. You could feel the tension, but all in all, everybody wanted to watch a great hockey game.
Lifting up the passes that slung around our neck, we entered through the main doors and continued into the brightly lit stadium. The scent of popcorn and brewing beer filled the main area, while the walkways flowed with large groups of fans.
"Is it before the game, or after?" Lucy asked, hinting at our previous made plan that Nick and Lucy had both agreed on. "Because I don't know how we'll get down there without getting trampled," She grunted as she got elbowed in the shoulder. Rubbing the growing bruise, she glanced down at me.
"After, don't worry," I chuckled, "You and your new bruise will have time to heal," She elbowed me herself. "And we can stop by a bathroom mirror to make sure you don't have any popcorn in your teeth,"
Lucy grumbled. "It was one time,"
I grinned widely, "Yeah, and that one time happened to be with Nick,"
Another person knocked into us, receiving a small grunt from myself. "You know, you can do this plan by yourself," Lucy said as we pushed through the crowd.
"You wouldn't dare," I glared.
"Oh I would," She laughed aloud as we neared our section. We were seated in 112, row A –right next to the penalty box and across the ice from the Montreal Canadians bench.
They were terrific seats, which we wouldn't be able to receive if it wasn't for Dominique Ducharme. My family have been close family friends with him since I was young –we even threw him a party when he became the assistant coach, and then head coach, of the Montreal Canadians.
The players had already done their warm-up skate –which we missed from traffic– and they were starting the usual video up on the jumbotron. The arena lights dimmed as flashes of blue and red bounced off of the walls.
Seven Nation Army began to roll out of the surround-sound speakers, echoing around the crazed stadium. The bass increased as a video began playing. It was filled with highlights, media day footage, and montages of Montreal. It was surreal. My eyes never left the screen once, the brightness began to dry my eyes.
As soon as it ended, the announcer began to warm up the crowd. "Are you ready for your Montreal Canadians!" He yelled into the mic as the crowd went berserk; Lucy and I, as well. The lights continued to flash blue and red as the skaters flooded onto the ice. They skated around for two laps, stick handling pucks, shooting, or stretching on the ice.
Lucy and I banged on the glass, along with other fans beside us. And soon enough, the game began.
The first period was quick, leaving it 1-0 for Montreal, courtesies of Shea Weber, the captain. The second period was more violent; three penalties for tripping, slashing, and boarding, and two goals for the bruins. But the third period was our favourite. It was 1-2 for Boston and there were two minutes left.
