And lots of stuff that I didn't.
Some of it was the standard stuff you see every time the playoffs heat up, or anytime the Habs face the Bruins: players getting a little too angry at each other, fans engaging in inappopriate/racist/sexist/homophobic language, and hockey sticks hitting delicate areas. But the worst thing, by far, was having to face this reality:
|OH, THE HUMANITY|
I don't know what this Iginla business is that you're all talking about. Jarome Iginla is somewhere telling kids to follow their dreams
— Rookie (@HabItHerWay) March 28, 2013
I made it through the entire regular season just by exercising the kind of denial that is probably rarely seen among healthy adults. I would pretend I didn't see him in that black-and-yellow jersey, that it was another #12. I couldn't get away with those denial tactics through seven playoff games. And that is how I found out that Jarome Iginla isn't the same player I used to love with all my heart.
The Jarome Iginla I saw during the playoffs wasn't just an amped-up version of the strong, all-around player that everyone knows he is. He was a Bruin, through and through. He put that jersey on, played with that team, and he turned, like a gremlin someone fed after midnight. He was aggressive, and not in a good way. He was angry. I no longer had any interest in seeing him make a run for a much-deserved Stanley Cup. I just wanted to see him go back to his old self. He wasn't the same guy whose T-shirt I wore, whose hockey card I bought. And it sucked to have to face that.
There are lots of reasons why I don't like the Bruins, but right now, ruining Jarome Iginla is the only one that matters.