Second, I was downtown to meet a friend and hear a Shakespeare lecture that night. We entered the black box bunker of a theatre knowing Burrows had scored. We got word before the Q&A that the Canucks were down by one. We stepped outside, and the bar across the courtyard, behind glass walls, was going crazy. I figured we had won. A tie. I had just enough time to walk up to Granville Street where I knew the crowds would be for overtime. Eyes darted towards every TV. Every save–and there were a lot of them in that first overtime period–was followed by “Luuuu,” which probably sounds like booing to anyone not from Vancouver.
When the game went to a second overtime, I walked over the few blocks to the CBC. The plaza was packed. The streets were blocked. Despite the embarrassing history of the Canucks uniform, it was a sea of team colours. I had an OK view, behind very tall teenagers, out on the curb, through the trees. Behind me, a husband asked his wife, Do you want to move where we can see? I turned around. I said, Don’t worry. When they score, you’ll feel it.
All of which is to say, we don’t know what happened either, Cory. I don’t think Bieksa knows. I didn’t know it was his goal until after I pushed my way out of that sea of blue and green and orange and black and passed Luongo (“Luuuu”) on the TV around the corner. I didn’t see the goal until I watched the highlights on YouTube the next morning. But that’s OK.
I felt it.