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 Rivi�res 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 Montr�al at minimum)