Alain et Julie VIII - Jour de Match pour Marie-Claire (OR Keep Calm and Bouillon)

It's been a couple of years, but I've finally written another chapter about my family of canines. This one is based on a game that I attended (my first one!) in Montreal with my girlfriend and another fur from Australia and if you pay attention you might find some mention of us in the text. A wonderful weekend all around.

Thumbnail image by  tribalfox

The text:

March 15, 2014

Alain wasn't sure who was more excited: his daughter Marie-Claire or himself. She was just over four years old and today was to be her first live NHL hockey game, a tilt between their beloved Habs and the Ottawa Senators in a rematch of the bitter playoff series between those two teams the previous spring. Ever since the little wolfsky was out of diapers, Alain had been excitedly planning this milestone for her with his Mate Julie. Julie thought that their cub was still a bit young for a live sports event, but upon hearing how many games Alain had been to by that age, she relented and agreed that it was time.

It was a comfortably temperate day in downtown Montreal. As they walked toward the Bell Centre, Alain savoured the atmosphere of the 'jour de match.' So many people on the way to the game just like them; so much excitement! Julie was also trying to enjoy this, but she was distracted by the task of shielding Marie-Claire's eyes from every strip club they passed on Rue Saint-Catherine. Alain chuckled at his Mate's doting nature. All in all, it would be a great night and a much needed break from the realities of life for them.

There was another provincial election looming, so soon after the last one. Alain would be voting for the Liberals (who seemed likely to win), but Julie was still a stubborn sovereigntist. This produced no shortage of spirited debates between them. At least at the federal level, they had come to the agreement that NDP was the way to go, this despite the rise of Justin Trudeau to Liberal Party leader. Alain had long been a Liberal, in no small part thanks to his father's glowing stories about the time of the elder Trudeau. But he could not bring himself to support Justin just for being the son of his father, mainly because Trudeau seemed woefully ignorant about the implications of the proposed Keystone XL pipeline, which threatened to unleash a catastrophic amount of carbon pollution into their already warming world. Alain was now in the business of battling this; the husky chemist had started up a solar panel production plant, which was growing and successful. But this success had brought a backlash in the form of baseless attacks from the powers that be and industrial sabotage by agents of the oil companies. Several of his employees had been hurt and it was only Alain's love for his child that kept him from quitting altogether. Sometimes he wondered whether he was accomplishing anything anyways...

When they arrived at the Bell Centre, it was already swarming with fans in their red Canadiens sweaters. Alain and Julie wore such sweaters and so did Marie-Claire who had insisted on being graduated from her pink baby Habs t-shirts to their true colours. It did not take them long to get to their seats (near ice level, about 25 rows up). Just as they sat down, the ice lit up and both teams took to the ice to warm up. Marie-Claire cheered wildly and jumped up on her seat as the music blared.

Alain asked her, "Who is your favourite player?"

"P.K.!" she named the reigning Norris Trophy winner without hesitation.

Alain smiled. An expected answer, but hard to argue with. "He got his first action in the playoffs the year you were born. I'll never forget it..." But he had told her all this many times, of course.

After the national anthem, the game commenced. Alain hoped it would be a good one, for his little girl's sake. As it happened, she had not long to wait to see her first Canadiens' goal. Less than a minute in, Daniel Briere broke free through the crowd right off a faceoff and put one five-hole behind Robin Lehner for a 1-0 lead. They all yelled and cheered and Alain held up Marie-Claire so she could see the celebration on the ice over the roaring crowd. It was wonderful to see Marie-Claire so deliriously happy and it brought him back to his own childhood.

A few minutes later they were silenced when Jason Spezza came right off the bench to join an Ottawa rush and put a slap shot behind Carey Price on the Senators' first shot of the game (and the first shot Price had faced in a game since winning Gold for Canada at the Olympics). Marie-Claire looked downtrodden and Alain mussed her hair with his paw. "It's okay," he reassured her, "He just needs to feel some rubber."

The first period was full of chances for the Habs but no more goals. Alain was used to all kinds of hockey games and he hoped Marie-Claire was enjoying the experience of being part of the crowd. There were people yelling things in French, yelling things in English. A few rows ahead of them, there was a bearded horse who with every whistle would take time to explain basic concepts of hockey to a snow leopardess to his right who spoke with a British (or perhaps Australian) accent, and also to the vixen to his left, who sounded more Canadian, but was still new to hockey perhaps.

In the second period, the play evened out, but there were no goals either way for a good while. There was an Ottawa goal called back, either because Price had been interfered with or because the net had come off; they were never sure, but they didn't argue with the call! The tie was finally broken a few minutes later, however, when Zack Smith broke in on Price and jammed in his own rebound backhanded to make it 2-1 for Ottawa. There was a sense of unease as the period ended. It was still a close game, but the Habs had missed so many opportunities. At least Marie-Claire still looked optimistic and she boisterously took part in every chant of 'Go Habs Go' that the scoreboard demanded.

When the third period began, things didn't get any better. About two minutes in Ales Hemsky took a pass from behind the net and scored to make it 3-1. Then at the five minute mark, on an almost identical play, Clarke MacArthur slapped one in to push the Senators' lead to three. It was like last year's playoffs all over again. Marie-Claire looked to have finally had her spirits crushed and, nearly in tears, said, "C'est terrible Papa." He couldn't disagree so he just took Marie-Claire in his lap and held her close. Julie looked discomfited as well, though less for the game itself than for the unhappiness of the two people she loved most.

The period ticked away, with a lot of sloppy play and chances at both ends. Price kept alive whatever little hope remained after each defensive lapse. "You suck Bouillon!" someone yelled out, referring to the veteran Montreal defenseman. That wasn't very nice, though Alain. It takes a whole team (and some bad luck as well) to be this bad.
With about five minutes left, many people were leaving early, some of whom had even better seats then they did. "Don't be like them, Marie-Claire, " he told his daughter, side-eyeing the faithless deserters. "You can't win them all. We stick things out until the end." But eventually even Alain became exasperated at so many good chances that did not result in goals. "Mon Dieu," he said. "Not one... smidgen of luck all night!"

And Julie spoke in English, "The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves..."

Alain had to think about that for a second and then he smirked, "Julius Caesar; appropriate given it's the Ides of March."

"And Caesar was assassinated by senators on the way from the old forum," said Julie. After a pause, she added, "I'm not sure where I'm going with this, sorry." She reassuringly rubbed her paw through the fur of his head. "It was two thirds of a good game, at least."

Alain smiled. It was almost 19 years to the day since he had met Julie, half their lives ago, and he loved her more than ever. He said, "I know the chances even out over time and you get what you deserve, but that doesn't change the fact that it ended up being an awful night for our little girl at her first game. I wish she could get to see one more Montreal goal, at least."

Almost as soon as he had spoken, Lars Eller knocked in the rebound of a Brian Gionta shot, breaking a long scoring drought for him. Alain stood up and clapped his paws as the song, 'Allez Montreal' played. Marie-Claire also jumped up with renewed optimism, which made Alain happier than the goal did. It was 4-2 with about three and a half minutes left. "If they can get another one, it'll get loud in here," he said. And sure enough, with about two minutes left, Gionta made a perfect redirection of a P.K. Subban shot to make it 4-3.

Now the Bell Centre was really rocking and the Habs had a chance and then some. Marie-Claire was jumping up and down on her seat. More cheers erupted as a penalty was called on the Senators seconds later. With Carey Price on the bench for an extra attacker, the Habs could now make their last push 6 on 4. The action was intense in the Ottawa zone and there was a huge collective gasp as the Senators cleared the puck straight down the ice and it slid just inches to the left of the empty Montreal net. With just seconds left, the Canadiens made one final play. Subban looked like he was going to shoot it, but at the last possible second he made a lightning pass to David Desharnais on the left side, who roofed it over a sprawling Robin Lehner. The game appeared to be tied and everyone was celebrating, even though the green light had come on. As the replay appeared on the scoreboard, Alain held up Marie-Claire so she could get a good look at the footage which would determine whether the game would continue. A renewed cheer went up as the replay showed the puck in the net with less than half a second left on the clock.

Amidst the roaring of the crowd, Alain sat back down hugged his excited child. "Whatever happens we've got at least one point now," he reminded her, but he could see the youngster was determined to get two. They had not long to wait for the conclusion; 90 seconds into overtime, just as a chant of 'Ole Ole Ole' was starting to rise, Francis Bouillon found a loose puck off a rebound and finished off the Senators, despite the stick smacking whiny protestations of Robin Lehner.

Alain was almost as disbelieving as he was happy. For a team to come back and win a game after being down by three with so little time left... how many times had that been done? Had it ever been done at all? That he would check on later. For now, he held his family close as they made their way amongst the throngs of revelling fans in the Bell Centre and the streets outside. The night was full of singing and joy and the spirits of the true fans were high indeed. Alain carried his daughter high on his shoulders as she sang along. He had taken from this game what he wanted his child to take from it. He said to her, "Remember this night always. And remember this, Marie-Claire St. Laurent: don't you ever, ever give up."

"Non, Papa," said Marie-Claire.