Away in Tampa

I was there in the cheap seats when the man with Boston

on his back tackled the giant bug. A shaded skyline that enfolded his shoulders, revealed when he frenzied his shirt over his head

after Nathan Horton scored in the second—the Ontarian

dispatching the puck so absolutely the net was compelled

to take it in. As if to make something belong, you hack hard as you can.

From the terrace level I cheered too—not for the goal but to make

myself known. Displaced New Englanders never stop needing

to tell you where they’re from. The bug was from Tampa—a woman

named Kelly in a 10-foot foam exoskeleton who silly-stringed a man

when his team was down and away from home. So fervent for a city

he needled it under his skin. As security walked him out, he spiked

a finger in her face—not Kelly’s but the bug’s, with the unwatching

eyes—and snarled as the crowd cheered his ejection. Hockey

gets violent. Players brawl.…