Ryan: Saturday night meant a hell of a lot more than just a hockey game

Bruce Cassidy would be the first to admit he tends to ride the emotional roller coaster that comes with surveying playoff hockey from his usual perch on the Bruins’ bench. 

Sometimes, the Bruins’ coach can be stone-faced and solemn in the midst of a critical moment of a contest. Other times, he’s busy unleashing verbal barbs toward either his roster or the referees that are in the midst of banishing a black-and-gold sweater to the sin bin. 

And in most moments of revelry, Cassidy is just as happy to uncork a fist bump and let out a cheer as a diehard fan would while watching the game from a watering hole down on the South Shore. 

But on Saturday night, the B’s bench boss stood in stark contrast to the controlled chaos and frenzied jubilation erupting all around him.

In front of him, Cassidy saw his top sniper in David Pastrnak glide across the Garden ice and into the embrace of his teammates — seconds after tallying the second postseason hat trick of his already lauded career. 

Above him, a deluge of caps, bucket hats and just about every other piece of headgear rained down on Cassidy and his players, a mirror of the drizzling rain outdoors that, try as it might, did little to dampen the spirit of a city embracing its first semblance of normalcy in over a year. 

And all around Cassidy and his players, a cacophony of cheers, screams and shouts as 17,400 voices all roared as one on a night where the Garden welcomed its first proper crowd back on Causeway Street in 448 days. 

And in the midst of all of it, Cassidy stood resolute in quiet contemplation, taking in the sights and sounds that so many of us have yearned for during our darkest days over the past year. 

“I was trying to enjoy the moment, looking around (at) the crowd,” Cassidy said following Boston’s 5-2 win over the Islanders on Saturday night. “It's been a long time since we had a full house here at the Garden and they were behind us from warmup on.  ... It was just a nice moment to look around, enjoy it.

“Playoff hockey. That's what it's all about. I'm sure we'll experience it up there when New York does something well. But it was our turn to sort of take it in and that's what I did.” 

For Cassidy and his players, it was an appreciation of the often overlooked minutiae, the little, cherished details that in years past we all likely would have taken for granted, that made Saturday night so special. 

The relentless percussion of the glass drummed up by the hometown faithful, matching the thunderous checks doled out on the ice, beat for beat. The reverb echoed through the bowels of Boston’s home barn as “Cochise” blared through the speakers once more. 

The echoes carrying through of thousands of Bostonians packing into their favorite bars on Causeway once more, the first signs of a hopeful summer poised to thaw out the COVID-induced chill that has shored us up in our homes for months on end. 

Sure, the opening game of a second-round bout between the Bruins and Islanders might have been the reason why 17,400 packed into the Garden on Saturday night. But what played out meant a hell of a lot more than just a playoff hockey game. 

It's a bizarre thing, really, sports in general. Might be a bit odd to poise such a query on a *cleans glasses* sports journal, but there’s truth to be found in it, right? 

To willingly embrace something marked with so much unpredictability — in which triumph and tragedy can sometimes be separated by a tumbling puck — is quite something. 

So why do we always seem to do it? Is it just an avenue for us to reach inward to our primal selves and scream our lungs out at the common foe? 

Maybe there’s some truth to that. Maybe it’s not that deep and it’s just an avenue to down some libations and forget about one’s troubles. 

But to keep coming back to sports — a thing that can dole out just as much pain as it can triumph — I mean, there’s got to be a greater meaning behind it all, right? 

Of course, sports doesn’t mean the same thing to everyone. Hell, it wouldn’t have nearly the appeal it does if we all draw our inspiration, our admiration, our love for it if we all followed the same path to get us to where we are now — planted in those Garden seats, or on a couch with your buddies, or leaning against a bar counter somewhere down on Boylston. 

But there are a few key principles that resonate with all of us, I’d venture to guess. 

We were reminded of many of them on Saturday night. 

It was a night in which we were reminded about perseverance and the human spirit: Whether it be a fitting video tribute to first responders that helped quell the COVID pandemic, or the sight of Bishop Feehan hockey player AJ Quetta, less than five months removed from a severe spinal injury, serving as the B’s fan banner captain. 

It was a night in which the decibel-defying roars from the crowd reminded us of those days we missed, a time long before our avenues for camaraderie and friendship were narrowed down to virtual Happy Hour meetings over Zoom. 

*shudders*

"It seemed like it meant a lot to all of us,” Patrice Bergeron said. “It seemed like for the fans, it was also special. It was a year of — lots of ups and downs. More downs than not. Craziness and heartache. I thought you could tell that everyone was trying to enjoy themselves and, and have a good night."

It was a night that, at long last, finally just felt normal. Even if said normal involves cheering together with thousands of total strangers — bound only by the love of the same team. 

“They were loud, they were passionate,” Charlie McAvoy said of the Garden crowd. “They were everything that makes Bruins fans so special.”

"It definitely kind of warms your heart,” Pastrnak added. “Kind of reminds you why you play this sport.”

Maybe that’s it, maybe that’s what makes sports so great ... why we keep coming back for more. 

It’s not always about the game or the event itself. But about the memories forged between you, your friends, your loved ones and plenty of complete strangers in the midst of this bizarre thing we call sports. 

Because what makes something special — if you can’t share it with others. 

It’s why we wait outside in line for hours on end with your buddies to scoop up some same-day tickets.  

It’s why we pack ourselves into uncomfortable bleachers or rickety seats year after year. 

It’s why you looked into the stands for your family after burying your first goal. 

It's the lump in your throat when you bring your kid to Fenway for the first time, as your pop did with you years before. 

As time passes, some of the details from our fandom might fade: the final score of a playoff bout, who sank the winning basket, etc. But what rarely gets lost is the memory of who we were with when we shared those moments together.  

Years from now, perhaps you might remember that David Pastrnak tallied a hat trick on the night of May 29th, 2021. 

But the final score might be a bit fuzzy. Hell, perhaps 40+ years ahead, you may not even remember who Boston played that night — or even what season it was. 

But what won’t be lost are the memories made by you and those closest to you — nor will any of us forget the sights and sounds that Cassidy and his players cherished out on the ice this dreary, late-spring evening in Boston. 

The sights and sounds of a city and a way of life reborn. And the validation of this bizarre, beautiful thing that we call sports.