Soupy

I can't even choose a favorite Bruin right now.

My old pal Lucic, who's been clearing away opponents from in front of the net like a crazed Zamboni? Krejci, who could have easily been the MVP of the last Cup win and again in these playoffs leads the league in points? Tuukka, the kid who respectfully answers all questions about neocon former goalie Tim Thomas and then goes out and allows just two goals in the last three games, including 53 saves last night? Jagr, the grizzled veteran who last won the Cup in 1992 (!) and comes out onto the Garden ice two hours after games to run drills by himself with a weight vest on, his only audience the guys sweeping the floors? Bergeron, the king of the late-night goal?

I don't think I could pick a jersey to wear if I had to.



It seems to me there's a hierarchy of toughness in sports. At the lowest level is basketball, where someone gets poked in the eye and sits down and cries with his hand over it, not letting trainers pull his hand away so they can see. This is the toughness equivalent of a six-year-old. Next up is baseball, where the most exciting part of most fights is watching the dugouts empty, the combatants running towards each other like they're crossing the plains of Middle-earth. In this range of toughness you get someone like Jacoby Ellsbury, who cracks his ribs in April and is out the rest of the season. Finally getting into the realm of respectability you have football, where Tony Romo cracks his ribs and is back later in the same quarter. Still though, whenever someone gets hurt in football, everyone stops what they're doing and gathers around in a prayer circle while Fox plays a quiet piano version of their theme and slips in a quick commercial.

And then there's hockey tough, a level beyond all other sports. Witness Gregory Campbell last night. This is a guy who breaks his leg blocking a shot, but with his team already down a man he doesn't want to leave his post, so he stays on the ice taking up space in the passing lane and trying to block more shots. After 45 seconds that seem like forever the Bruins finally kill off the penalty and clear the puck, and Campbell hobbles off the ice in front of a Garden crowd giving him a standing ovation and chanting his name. Hockey doesn't stop, even for a broken leg.

And the thing is, as kick-ass and worthy of respect Campbell is, this type of grit isn't even all that unusual. Most every hockey team has at least a few guys who would do the exact same thing. There is, quite simply, nothing like the NHL playoffs.