One of the most important days of my life

MY DEFINITION OF HAPPINESS. PHOTO BY JARED WICKERHAM/GETTY IMAGES

If you ask any hockey fan, there’s not a lot of negative things to say about the Boston Bruins. They’ve been Stanley Cup contenders since 2008, they have a strong core of players that are both talented on the ice and beloved off of it, and they’ve adapted the gritty, physical brand of hockey that Bostonians are accustomed to and love to watch. But with all the good that the Bruins bring to the table, there are bad moments that most fans can pinpoint in a second. Fans around during the Bobby Orr era can tell you of April 8, 1971, where a heavily favored Boston Bruins led the Montreal Canadiens 5-2 in the second period, only to have Montreal come back to win the game 7-5. This game is often referred to as “the worst loss in Boston Bruins history.” The Canadiens ultimately went on to win the Conference Quarterfinals, and Boston Bruins fans everywhere were left heartbroken.

May 5, 2013 looked like it was going to be one of those moments. The Bruins were facing the Toronto Maple Leafs in the Conference Quarterfinals, and though the Bruins were up 3-1 at one point in the series, the Leafs were able to force a Game 7. My interest in hockey as a sport, and the Boston Bruins as a team was piqued the year before, when the Bruins drafted 18-year-old Tyler Seguin and won the Cup that very same year. Coming from a very sports-oriented family, I often felt out of place, as I was the only non-athlete of the family; hockey was a way that I found I could better relate to my dad and my sister. Though my dad grew up in a baseball household, we all liked how physical and violent hockey could get – it was a means of bonding for us, because it was something we were all passionate about and it was one of the few sports I understood in an analytical sense. I didn’t feel dumb talking about hockey, and my dad was psyched that I had finally taken some interest in sports. “I wish you were around in the 70’s,” He would say. “You would have loved the physicality and the rivalries.”

Needless to say, Game 7 had our house a little rocked. Growing up, my generation has been a little spoiled – we saw the Red Sox win their first World Series in 86 years in 2004, the Celtics win their first NBA championship in 22 years, the Bruins win their first Stanley Cup in 32 years, and the Patriots win three Super Bowl titles. My household expected nothing less than greatness from our sports teams, and the fact that the Leafs had been able to force a Game 7 was unnerving.

My dad, my sister and I had settled down on the couch to watch the game. There wasn’t really any talking, save celebrating a goal or commenting on a hit. The end of the second period saw the Leafs up 2-1, but that was a deficit that was neither threatening nor season-ending; to put it simple, we were used to the Bruins falling behind by a point or two, but we had the confidence that they would win.

The third period quickly nulled that confidence.

Six minutes into the third period, goals from Phil Kessel, a former Bruin, and Nazem Kadri put the Leafs up 4-2. The game seemed all but over. My sister, red in the face, stomped her way up to bed, and I sat on the couch in a quiet panic. I was so sure that the Bruins would be able to pull this off; though it was uncommon, somewhere in my heart of hearts I truly believed the Bruins would bring home a Stanley Cup for the second year in a row. My dad changed the channel, grumbling about how the Bruins always did this – always got our hopes up, only to dismantle them in one, swift move.

Thirteen minutes later, my sister came barreling down the stairs. “Dad, the Bruins,” she began; only to have him cut her off. “It’s 4-3, we know. They always do this,” He said, and Taylor shook her head wildly. “Dad, the game is tied.” My father and I were in the kitchen at this point, binging sadly on some snacks, and all three of us rushed to the living room and turned the game on. Nathan Horton had scored the first goal of their comeback, and the Bruins pulled goalie Tuukka Rask to add an extra attacker. Milan Lucic’s goal put the Bruins within one, and with 51 seconds left in regulation, Patrice Bergeron tied the game for the Bruins. The game was headed into overtime, and to say my heart was pounding would be a gross understatement.

I don’t remember the goal that won the game for the Bruins. It’s one of those moments where you literally black out from excitement. It happened so quickly, and before I could even register what was happening, my family and I were jumping and screaming. I never got a chance to process it.

I’ve watched it online so many times, and when my out of state friend asked me why she should be a Bruins fan, this comeback was the first thing I showed her. Sometimes, when I watch it, I still get emotional. Patrice Bergeron scored the overtime winner to send the Bruins to the Conference Semifinals. It was also the first time in NHL playoff history that a team trailing by three goals in Game 7 went on to win both the game and series.

This moment is the epitome of Boston Bruins hockey to me. Sure, I would love a team that I’m constantly confident in. I would love a team that I know will win when it counts, and will do so without sending their fans into a panic. But at the end of the day, what’s the fun in that? Sports, above all, are about the adrenaline rush – for both the athletes and the fans. Sports are about moments that you can look back on and tell your grandchildren about, whether those moments broke your heart or made you cry from happiness.

I never truly understood the meaning of resiliency until this Game 7. The Boston Bruins have become the poster children for the word resiliency, and rightfully so. Game 7 was not only a great moment for me as a Boston Bruins fan, but it was a great moment between my father, my sister and I. Sports – and in my case, the Bruins – have a way of bringing people together, through heartbreak and celebration. The Bruins ultimately ended up losing to the Chicago Blackhawks in the Stanley Cup Finals that year, but it’s really telling that I don’t remember that loss – I only remember Game 7’s win.

This team will be important to me forever because of this single moment. It kick started my interest in sports journalism, it made me love hockey as a sport that much more, and it brought me closer to my family – what more can you ask for from a local team?