I am surprised it took 7 months
Are the championship days over in Boston? - The Boston Globe
The championship days may be over. We’ve had it too good for too long, and in recent days things have taken a dramatic turn for the worse. The Patriots just had their earliest playoff elimination in 10 years and Tom Brady might be done in New England. The Red Sox are a mess, suspected of cheating, with no manager, and Mookie Betts might be on his way out of town. The Celtics don’t have the size or skill to go all the way, and the Bruins lost another shootout the other night when one of their best players whiffed on a penalty shot.
I have a theory of when everything changed. And I am by no means picking on Brad Marchand, one of our town’s toughest and best performers.
I believe everything changed for us in the final seconds of the first period of Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Final against the Blues way back on June 12. The Bruins were trailing, 1-0, as the clock ticked toward zero in the first. The Bruins were playing at home — the Cup was in the house — and we all figured they would take charge and win the Stanley Cup over the final two periods.
Then came the moment — the Boston sports equivalent of the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand.
In the “meaningless” closing seconds of the period, Marchand — gassed at the end of a long shift — made a half-hearted effort to check Blues winger Jaden Schwartz, then skated off to the Bruins’ bench. While the Bruins were unexpectedly short a man, Alex Pietrangelo took a pass from Schwartz, skated free toward the net, and potted a backhander past a defenseless Tuukka Rask. All this eight seconds before the horn sounded.
That was it. The oxygen was sucked from the Garden. The blood drained from our faces. It was 2-0 instead of 1-0 after one, and hearts sank around New England. It was clear in that moment that the Bruins were not going to win the Stanley Cup on their home ice for the first time in 49 years. After eight weeks of pulsating playoffs, they limped to a 4-1 loss in the biggest game of most of their lives.
And much as I hate to say it, that might have been the beginning of the end of Boston’s 21st century, chest-thumping, duckboat-rollin’, sports high renaissance.
Are the championship days over in Boston? - The Boston Globe
The championship days may be over. We’ve had it too good for too long, and in recent days things have taken a dramatic turn for the worse. The Patriots just had their earliest playoff elimination in 10 years and Tom Brady might be done in New England. The Red Sox are a mess, suspected of cheating, with no manager, and Mookie Betts might be on his way out of town. The Celtics don’t have the size or skill to go all the way, and the Bruins lost another shootout the other night when one of their best players whiffed on a penalty shot.
I have a theory of when everything changed. And I am by no means picking on Brad Marchand, one of our town’s toughest and best performers.
I believe everything changed for us in the final seconds of the first period of Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Final against the Blues way back on June 12. The Bruins were trailing, 1-0, as the clock ticked toward zero in the first. The Bruins were playing at home — the Cup was in the house — and we all figured they would take charge and win the Stanley Cup over the final two periods.
Then came the moment — the Boston sports equivalent of the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand.
In the “meaningless” closing seconds of the period, Marchand — gassed at the end of a long shift — made a half-hearted effort to check Blues winger Jaden Schwartz, then skated off to the Bruins’ bench. While the Bruins were unexpectedly short a man, Alex Pietrangelo took a pass from Schwartz, skated free toward the net, and potted a backhander past a defenseless Tuukka Rask. All this eight seconds before the horn sounded.
That was it. The oxygen was sucked from the Garden. The blood drained from our faces. It was 2-0 instead of 1-0 after one, and hearts sank around New England. It was clear in that moment that the Bruins were not going to win the Stanley Cup on their home ice for the first time in 49 years. After eight weeks of pulsating playoffs, they limped to a 4-1 loss in the biggest game of most of their lives.
And much as I hate to say it, that might have been the beginning of the end of Boston’s 21st century, chest-thumping, duckboat-rollin’, sports high renaissance.
