Fuck em up, fuck em up, GO BU!

For some reason - call it fate, call it karma, call it Jack Parker - Boston University always wins the Beanpot. Whether they're at the top of Hockey East, or being trampled under the feet of Maine, BC, UNH ... it doesn't matter. Last night, the #7 Terriers won their third in a row over #13 BC, 2-1 in overtime.

I went downtown to a bar called Standings (7th, just west of 2nd Ave.), where the BU alumni gathered to watch the game. It's really a travesty that college hockey isn't televised, publicized, or even cognized by anyone outside of the faithful. We get inundated with the absurdity of college football, the most anti-climactic sports season of them all, watching relatively untalented oafs take on other relatively untalented oafs while a couple of pretty talented guys run through the middle. The intimate intensity of hockey, in particular college hockey, is brought out even more by the degree of extremism among the faithful, the strange breed that is a hockey fan.

I arrived in a mostly empty bar at about twenty to seven for the 8pm puck drop; the two handfuls of drinkers were all deep into pitchers, brandishing their beautiful sweaters. It was a small space, and I found the only reasonable seat left in the place, in the corner at the end of the bar in front of a stack of empty pitchers. It was a lucky seat, as dorks in business garb and dorks in red poured through the murky door and filled in all of the empty space as the clock rounded the hour. There was a buzz as going around, not to mention pitchers of microbrews and free hot dogs; whenever anyone associated with BC had the audacity to show up on one of the HD TVs, the crowd sent up a chorus of boo's and some pretty vulgar chants about Jerry York (the BC coach) and the rest of the Bullshit Eagles. I was sitting next to a mixed group of recent BU alums, a nice group all decked out in their red and white and not afraid to start up the BU fight song at any moment. I actually got the perfect seat for the one Onondaga CC alum in the crowd, though I've probably seen as many Beanpots live as anyone else. It's one thing when Mr. Clancy does it, but when a shit-faced middle-aged guy in a suit starts affecting a South Boston accent and calling people "Lad" and telling me that it doesn't matter if BU gives the puck away at their own blue line ... it's fertile soil for contempt, though the atmosphere was buoyant enough to keep my mind on the game.

An early BU goal sent the crowd into a frenzy, and throughout the game, every hit (and, Sweet Jesus, there were some snot-knockers) brought out the drunk in everyone, including Yours Redoubtably (I took down a few pints of some organic Pilsner at $5 a pint - not bad at all). A BC goal early in the third forced the mob to continue doing exactly what they were doing, just with more vitriol, more beer, and a sinking feeling in the stomach. Each team hit a post during mad scrambles in the crease with under five to play, the BU goaltender John Curry coming up with a ginormous glove save to keep it tied and headed for overtime. I came close to becoming a glorious prognosticator by assuring the nice young lady sitting next to me that BU would score 6:32 into the overtime; I was off by about a minute. A face-off in the offensive zone, a loose puck, and a great finish found the net over the BC goali- ahh, SIEVE!'s shoulder for the game-winner by Brian McGuirk, his first goal of the season. That kid got laid last night. John Curry took home Best Goaltender and Beanpot MVP honors, prompting me to order one last pint to wash away the wistfulness of what should have been and never was. Great game, and a great time.