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Part II: How It All Began, by Andrew Saadalla |
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As part II of “How It All Began” continues, I describe the first time I ever attended a game at the Bell Centre.
Members of my family came from far and wide to attend my grandmother’s funeral in November of 2003. Some flew down from Egypt and Europe while others traveled from all over North America. It was the first time I’d meet some of my first and second cousins. Despite the tragic news that hung over our heads like a dark cloud, my older cousin (and Habs fanatic) J-P decided to take matters into his own hands and use the opportunity to gather as many of the boys together. What better way to do so than to purchase tickets to the Montreal Canadiens’ game versus the Columbus Blue Jackets on November 11th that year…
At the time, I was obsessed with the Los Angeles Lakers of the NBA. The 1-2 duo of legends Shaquille O’Neal and Kobe Bryant was dominating the sport and as a young point guard playing for my local city and high school team, my focus was almost exclusively on basketball. To be honest, I was not really interested in attending a Habs’ game. I remember looking over to another one of my older cousins (Mike) and ungratefully rolling my eyes at the idea of heading downtown and attending a match, especially against a Blue Jackets’ team whose players I couldn’t even name:
“Who cares, man? It’ll be fun,” said Mike. “I don’t care about hockey but for J-P’s sake, let’s suck it up and attend. We’ll have a chance to bond with everyone.”
We hopped onto the bus and made our way towards Bonaventure station to meet up with the rest of the crew at the Bell Centre. There were so many people walking around in Habs’ jerseys, chanting “Go Habs Go!” as they always did. I paid little attention to the disorderly drunken fans lining up to get into the stadium, as the smell of cigarettes filled the air and caused me to shake my head and wonder why I had ever agreed to this.
I remember the exact moment that I fell in love with the Bell Centre itself. Our tickets were in the nosebleeds, and as we made our way up the escalators towards our section, I walked by certain lower-level entrances and saw the crowd for the first time. It was already cheering, its collective and amplified voice echoing louder than anything I had ever heard and there was an overwhelming vibration that overtook the building.
I couldn’t believe what I was going to be a part of! What a sensation it was- in my teenage mind, I likened it to the Roman Coliseum during the era of gladiators. We finally got to our seats, and the regret I had dissipated immediately.
In-house announcer Michel Lacroix’s voice boomed across the Bell Centre: “mesdames et messieurs, ladies and gentlemen, accueillons vos Canadiens!” The crowd jumped to its feet, and I followed suit, screaming as loudly as I could and cheering the team on. I was converted.
The match itself was uneventful, save for a fight by former enforcer Steve Begin. My cousin Mike kept yelling “let them fight!” whenever two players started jabbing or tugging at each others’ jerseys. While I wasn’t a fan of the fighting (and am not till this day), I have to admit that the supporters in attendance kept my energy and excitment levels sky-high. Since it was the first time I was attending a live game, I noticed that Pierre Houde’s voice could not be heard. That was the biggest shock to me, as I had gotten more than used to listening to commentary. It should have been common sense to me, but nobody had warned me that for the 17 or so minutes between periods, I’d have to entertain myself.
The game ended as a 1-1 draw, and I was rather confused as to why no overtime was to be played. Either way, I recall walking out of the Bell Centre slightly deafer than when I had first entered and my voice was practically gone. The sadness that had overtaken my relatives and I was numbed, and I knew that the adrenaline I experienced on November 11th of 2003 was so addictive that I vowed to recreate that feeling as often as I could thanks to the Bleu Banc et Rouge.
Montreal Canadiens Blogger • 
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