And I was good. I cried only a little. I whined only a little.

People didn't know that it was like quitting smoking. People didn't understand the craving. The pain.

Inside I seethed. With FUUUUUROIUS anger.

But I bided my time.

I weighed my options.

I watched curling.

But not poker.

I created a little Bob Goodenow voodoo doll.

And a littler Gary Bettman voodoo doll.

In my mind.

I tried to watch Les Dragons de Verdun in the fighting league of Quebec.

I hung from the rafters to watch The McGill Redmen take on the Trois Rivières Ramparts. And lose. (with one 'o').

And it was OK. But it was like sucking but nit inhaling a cigarello when what you really want is a good Du Maurier light.

But tonight all of that changes.

For tonight I will once again adorn the Bleue-Blanc-Rouge.

I shall stride proudly into the Centre Bell to watch my Habs run over the Bruins in an age old match up - matching the young guns with the seasoned veterans. The kids fighting hard to make the cut.

It doesn't matter that it's a pre-season game.

It doesn't matter that the game in itself doesn't matter.

It matters to me.

Because I want bragging rights.

Against The Gump and his "oh so glorious sporting heartland".

Tish and Pish.

This is Habland baby!

This is OUR freakin' year!

Join me world (or Montréal at minimum)