The Vancouver Canucks aren't just the city's team, they're the top NHL team for most people in this province, from Sooke to Stewart to Sparwood.
Since not everyone can go to a Canucks playoff game as they faceoff against the Nashville Predators, be they in Kitsilano or Kitimat, here's an attempt to capture some of the energy from Rogers Arena as a fan whose earliest hockey memory is the raising of Stan Smyl's #12 into the rafters but who's never seen a Stanley Cup game in person.
Here's the short version: It's bonkers.
It's overwhelming, in a real sense, since I don't think my ears were able to sort out all the sounds at times.
It's electric; that's a term I don't like to use often since it's a cliche, but having shocked myself a couple of times and watched with my own eyes Quinn Hughes fire a shot in from the point, I can say there's surprisingly little difference.
If you're looking for a break down of the game, Daniel Wagner has you covered here. And much more here. What follows is the experience on the fan side of the glass.
Like Dante in Clerks, I wasn't even supposed to be at Rogers Arena on Sunday, but luckily scored a last-minute Game 1 ticket, from my sister's partner — a season ticket holder who bought early.
The anticipation starts before getting to the building, with the usual, if cranked, raucous fans cheering and cops pouring beer out a block away.
That human energy gets bumped up at the gate; a marching band walked by us at one point followed by giant, surreal paper mache-style versions of Smyl, Markus Naslund, and Pavel Bure.
Inside it's another step up, with a crush of people wandering around to the different merch and food stands.
Jerseys are everywhere, split between the blue-green official Canucks colours and historic black-red-gold; it's almost like two teams ready to face off. A few Predators fans are in the mix, with boos following them every step. That must have been unpleasant.
Hughes and Petterson's names dominate people's backs with Miller, Boeser and Demko all showing up lots. Classic names from the last 20 years are on jerseys, including Naslund, Bertuzzi and Luongo. A few rarities are in the crowd, too, like Williams, Snepts, and at least two Rypiens.
And full credit goes to the in-house entertainment team. The build-up before the game is incredible, mixing festivity and epic-ness. It feels fun and somehow important. Let's be clear, this is a sport with knife shoes and a rubber biscuit, but there's a history and shared experience that's evident everywhere and built upon.
Towel power, if you didn't know, started with the Canucks, so inside, the spinning towels aren't a gimmick from another arena, but a part of that history (and a shot at referees). With one on every seat, there's a sea of them as the pregame show grows.
And then it's game time.
And, while there's not silence, it's quiet (relatively).
The quietest part of the game was probably just as it started and everyone focused on the play. The festival atmosphere drops for a minute and the tension begins.
But with each play, there's cheers and energy from the crowd. As much as the hosts and cheering squads and Jumbotron try and ramp everyone up, it's the play on the ice that really gets people going.
One thing that seemed different was the energy after the Predators' goals; they took the lead twice. But it didn't feel desperate in the crowd, the fans were cheering as much as ever, though there was definitely tension.
Elias Lindholm's goal sparked the crowd to new levels though. Rogers hadn't been that loud in years I'd bet, but it'd get louder later in the night.
The height of the Game 1 hype came over a few minutes in the third. Down 2-1 but playing well, the fans were as energized as ever when Hughes's shot was tipped in by Pius Suter. And there was a release, as excitement and nervous energy drove the crowd to be as loud as they had ever been.
The horns for the goal were drowned out.
And before the celebration had settled, Dakota Joshua netted his first.
And the place went wild. You couldn't hear yourself cheer; I've been to dozens of concerts and my ears haven't hurt like that, but I cheered anyway.
From then, the festival mood returned to a greater degree, and there was a certain level of denouement. There were 10 minutes left, but the Canucks looked, mostly, in control. And if they weren't the fans couldn't tell, there was little doubt in the 18,000 or so fans that the game was won.
When Joshua got his second, an empty netter with less than two minutes to go the festival turned into a celebration, and any doubts that lived in longtime fans that this was going to be another year of disappointment evaporated, at least for the night.
The chanting "Let's Go" or "Hughes your daddy" spilled out into the streets for blocks and sporadically across the city.
If I was smart I would have set up a Halls lozenge stand on West Georgia last night.
