The realist in me had given the Canucks about a 30-per-cent chance of winning Game 6 in Boston, but the hopeful fan in me had nearly convinced himself by game time that Monday would be the night. Finding shelter from the anticipatory vibe that swept through the city during the day was impossible. It was as though the crowd knew something I didn’t know.
Now, I will remember: the realist is usually right.
It turned out that those dreadful 8-1 and 4-0 losses in Boston were no flukes. TD Garden simply makes the Canucks crumble, and they crumbled spectacularly again last night, allowing four goals in the first 10 minutes of a 5-2 loss. It was actually their best game in Boston; unfortunately, it was Roberto Luongo’s worst. He made it to the third goal, 8:35 into the game, and that was two minutes more than he should have played if the Canucks were serious about winning this series in six. Cory Schneider was again fantastic in relief, and backstopped the Canucks to a 2-2 draw through 50 minutes of what was essentially garbage time.
A significant chunk of the Rogers Arena crowd had bailed out by the second intermission. In the upper deck, my wife and I fantasized about a Canucks comeback. It was all we could do. We imagined those people in their cars on their way home, listening to John Shorthouse call a four-goal third period, followed by a win in overtime. The arena would explode. It would be the greatest hockey night of our lives.
Henrik Sedin scored a beautiful power-play goal in the first minute of the third period to make it 4-1. Still just a fantasy at that point, but the Canucks raised their sticks again about a minute later and the arena burst into a screaming blizzard of white towels. The crowd was frothing at a Bruins lead that had suddenly become the most dangerous in hockey.
Or had it?
Upon further review, the puck had hit the post and never crossed the goal line. Fantasizing had been fun, but the realist is usually right.
And so the weirdest Stanley Cup final in memory — at one point last night, the team with the chance to raise the Cup had been outscored 18-6 in the series — will end downtown on Wednesday night. That prospect will probably unsettle any Vancouverite who was around in 1994, and I can assure you the volume and intensity of emotion surrounding this year’s Stanley Cup run is greater than it was then. As tight as the city was wound on Monday, Wednesday will make it seem carefree. In fact, the mood downtown had already shifted from disappointment to excitement within half an hour of last night’s game.
You learn a lot in the storytelling business about what makes great drama.
Conflict? Check.
Setbacks? Check.
High stakes? Check.
Uncertain outcome? Check.
It’s all there now, and just about every reason we have for optimism is balanced by a corresponding reason for cold fear. The fact that Roberto Luongo will start Game 7 in goal on Wednesday night happens to be both. He has shut out the Bruins twice in this series. His two best games of the playoffs have eliminated opponents. And yet, he will play the entire first period just one soft goal away from a complete team collapse.
Game 7 is on its way, and 48 hours of unmatchable theatre has begun.
