Beanpot Monday

For those of you who don’t know what Beanpot Monday is…it’s the first two Monday’s in February when the Beanpot Tournament is held between Harvard, BC, BU and NU.  NU being my alma mater, this is like a Holiday for me – yes I did consider calling in today. Good thing I didn’t – there have been a lot of additions to this invite list that I’m working on.

Tonight, from 4:30-7ish I’ll be at RFD in DC rooting for my boys – given our national ranking, (despite the 1-3 record of our last four…). The puck drops at five, and you can bet your bottom dollar that I will be wearing my red and black with pride. Despite BU having won a few of the past beanpots, I’m looking forward to our chances since we’ve beaten both BC and BU who we’ll be playing the 2nd round with in either the consolation game or the championship next Monday.

For those of you who know what the eff I’m talking about? Here’s a little poem to get you all pumped up!

twas the night before the beanpot, and all through terrier land
not a fan boy was raving, there was no “song” from the band

the glowsticks were hung by agganis with fear
knowing full well that Monday was near

on the other end of comm ave, it was a much different story
Eagle fans partied late, reveling imminent glory

now Parker in his tweed coat, and rogie on his lap
had both just awoken, from a post dugout nap

“its been a long time”, he said with a mumble
“but the beanpots have come, despite our 10 year stumble

I’ve convinced all my teams, this is the game they must win
you cannot lose the beanpot! Playing in April’s a sin!

but what have I gotten for my beanpot fame?
outside of comm ave, they’ve forgotton my name”

Rogie just nodded, he knew to keep quiet
an angry jack parker was worse than a northeastern riot.

when out on the T tracks there arose such a clatter
they climbed up from the gutter to see what was the matter

a ghost train was approaching, its engine was gunning
but who was the driver? the T had long since stopped running!

Rogie turned pale, before Jack’s mouth could uncork
he knew in a moment, it must be chris bourque

more rapid than eagle forecheckers, his passengers they came
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name

“now lashoff! now whitney! now esposito and amonte!
on drury! on sacco! on kane and tom poti!

we’ve come with a message from the ghosts of BU
they want life after beanpot, that’s why they pay you

sure beanpots are great, but we’ve been there before
in the end it’s a local thing, our euro fans deserve more

you’ve been given a warning, now answer the call
get better recruits, and go win it all

you lust after the beanpot, your eggs are all in one basket
you’ve bulldozed our palace and erected a casket

with such marginal talent your systems wont work
your best players are walk ons! Your captain’s mcguirk!

it used to be a given, you would pilot us to first
now we search for our seat belts and prepare for the worst

make no mistake you are the one everyone blames
we see right through the finger pointing after the games.”

now parker was speechless as young bourque rattled on
he knew that his glory days truly were gone.

he looked towards BC with a tear in his eye
he cursed Jerry York, and that Nate Gerbe guy

“why cant I get a boyle? An eaves? Or a shannon?
I’d settle for bertram, or lombardi, or gannon…

but I’m stuck with macarthur and some guy name boomer
gryba who cant skate,and lawrence the late bloomer…

BC is on the rise, and this pain is too numbing
I can feel in the rearview that even Cronin is coming”

by now rogie was teary, and chris bourque ‘seen enough
but he knew in his heart that he had to be tough

so he jumped on to the T and to his team gave a whistle
and away the train rumbled like the down of a thistle

he left one last message for the program in flux
you had better win the beanpot, because this team really sucks

~anon 

On that note…

Tagged as: Boston, college hockey, hockey