Canadiens 5-1 Bruins: an Aussie view of the NHL Winter Classic – as it happened

Minute to go, 5 goals to one, they’re still going at each other, these teams, Original Six from 1924. Ten seconds to go. Now five. Now one... and ... THEY’RE FIGHTING! THEY’RE FIGHTING TO FINISH THE GAME, THERE’S NO SHAKING HANDS RATHER THEY’RE THROWING PUNCHES AND WRESTLING, AND THAT’S THE BALL GAME, THE PUCK GAME, stick a fork in this baby, it’s done and done.

Canadiens, now, sluicing about, sharing the puck between themselves ... Max Patch the captain hurls up rink but is gathered by several Bruins. Boston attack. Montreal defend. And then attack. They’re good, these Canadiens, hot skill with the stick in the face of committed D-men with .... and there’s some fighting! Headlocks ... and Jimmy Hayes and Lars Eller, they go at it ... some punches thrown, none that knock the top off a cream puff ... but they both make the long walk of shame off the rink and into the warm bowels of this fine stadium. Makes sense.

Vision now of PK Subban, he lobbed at the stadium early in a purple suit that screamed ballroom-dancing gangster. Word is he gave $10 million to charity, what a nice man. Okay - Tuukka Rask, with 5 minutes to go, he’s been in this game, he’s saved goals twice in this movement, as they all pile in and the goals themselves are dislocated. You can’t pin this probable loss, in the 910th meeting of these teams, on Tuukka Rask. You could. But you would be wrong.

Bruins, doing their best, big Chara has a shot, the tallest man ever in the National Hockey League, 7 foot in skates, there’s a lot of him. Bruins bombing away. Shots on goal heading towards parity now, 29-29 to the Canadiens who have also been more effective. And their goal-keeper Micky Condon’s done well also. Joe Morrow shoots! And Condon saves, reflexes of a lynx from Canada. Big men, skating about, either side of the goal, flicking the puck to each other at speed. Gallagher cops another hit in the face with a stick, an occupational hazard for the man, so often is he in the ruck doing his best. And: ad time.

Okay. And they’ve hurt Tuukka Rask, the puck has whacked into his throat... yowza! That is not good for the oesophagus, and no argument. Vision also of Max the captain of the Canadiens, he hurt his arm on a camera that was sticking out of a little hole in the plexi-glass, and was cranky at the shooter man. So many things can hurt you in this game, you’d struggle to get health insurance. Okay - we’re back, our man Rask is back in goal, puck still embedded in his throat, he plays on, for he knows no other way. And while all this was going on a slapshot whacks directly into a camera man’s nose. It’s like Cirque De Soleil on ice with violence.

HA! HUGE PILE UP IN THE CANADIENS GOAL THERE’S JUST ABOUT EVERYONE ALL WHACKING AWAY AND SCRAPPING FOR THE PILL IT WAS LIKE THE BOXING DAY SALES GIVING AWAY FREE TELEVISIONS, AN ALL-IN AND ... after all that ... a man emerges with a sore face, and it’s a puck down and restart. And onwards we roll, in this all-action big-whackin’ puck action.

TV showing a replay of Beleskey’s many “hits”, the times when he has whacked Canadiens into boards, etc, he’s been a physical presence, and deserves that score. The shot-gap is now 25-20 and one wonders have the Canadiens shut up shop to protect a lead. Certainly the Bruins are coming hard and desperate, trying to reel in this two-goal deficit. Here come the Canadiens, with Rask making another tough save look easy, the puck is shot at him at 900 miles per hour, thereabouts, and the man with the reflexes of a puma, say, or a Canada lynx, has kept his team in this fixture yet again.

Snowing! It’s snowing in Boston! Hurrah, and kaloo-kalay, and all that, it’s nudging 90F here in Sydney at 7:50am on January 2 on this dark side of the moon.

Okay - Dale Weiss will not be back, his hand is bung, the vulcanised rubber puck is an unforgiving frozen rock. Bruins attack early in a power play, still, but not for long. Indeed there’s one more rush ... 7 seconds left ... shot.... nearly. Condon makes another save, he’s had a solid game including one spectacular effort in the final second of Period Two. Five on five again, Bruins attack, Canadiens repel. Penalty, little Brendan Gallagher, he holds back not at all, a feisty man. Tom Brady signed one goal-keeper’s mask and there’s a picture of him on the other one. So there you go. Bruins, doing their best, but Canadiens, their defence is chunky. Desperate times for Boston.

Okay - we’re nearly back, The People, and the Boston Bruins, playing host to Montreal Canadiens in front of a sell-out crowd here at Gillette Stadium, Foxboro, Massachusetts, this brave new year’s Winter Classic, have 20 minutes of playing time to somehow reel in a 3-goal deficit. They showed good signs in the latter half of the second period but ... you’d suggest they need the reincarnation of Gretzky and/or the Hanson Brothers from Slapshot, because their busiest player has been goal-tender Tuukka Rask.

No worries here:

Over the glass goes the puck and out into the crowd where it hopefully hasn’t hurt anyone. And old mate who did the whacking into the crowd is penalised because he did it, whacked it on purpose into the crowd. You can’t put heads on statues, as they say. Right - power play, Bruins, seconds left in the period - SHOT! WITH 0.1 SECONDS LEFT IN THE PERIOD MIKE CONDON RIPS OFF A BRILLIANT SAVE TO KEEP HIS TEAM IN THE LEAD BY THREE TO NOTHING. IT’S TIME FOR THE 2ND INTERMISSION and I’ll stop yelling now. And we’ll be back after these important messages.

Bit over four minutes left in the 2nd period, sports fans, and it’s Canadiens 2 leading Bruins 0. The home team from Boston are coming hard, however. Brendan Gallagher a standout here, skin of Cupid, feisty like the shaggiest little bantam slugger, he’s having a red hot go with a giant man, Zdeno Chára.

Five on five again as the Canadiens return to their full complement. And here they come, Montreal Canadiens, like cricket’s Mumbai Indians except quite a lot not like that. BREAKAWAY! BUT TUUKKA RASK SAVES, he’s a ripper, Tuukka Rask. Morrow shoots again for Boston, just misses. men scrap on the boards, against the glass. Boston is back in this, at least in terms of having a go at the goal. There’s Raymond Gallagher, missing a tooth, he wouldn’t be Robinson Crusoe in this man’s National Hockey League, I will give you the tip.

Slapshot! And Canadiens Condon is forced to make a fast-twitching one-handed save. OH! OFF THE POST, and the Bruins are attacking like black and yellow killer beers, I mean bees, bees with beers, these Bruins, they’re down 2-nil they need some goal action. Hot shot by Joe Morrow and Condon makes an easy save.

Right. Canadiens still owning this fixture, they’ve had 21 shots on goal to the Bruins 9, which is many more less. Players coming on, coming off, there are four “lines” of players who play in “shifts”. Ads on the box for snow-blowers and tyres that don’t skid on the ice, incongruous in this Hemisphere given I type wearing my preference for jimmy-jams - a pair of sauce-stained footy shorts - at 6:56am on January 2nd. The world is an increasingly rich tapestry, people. And we’re back from another break, as Weisse heads off because he copped a puck in the hand which would have hurt quite a lot given it’s made of snap-frozen vulcanised rubber, effectively a rubber bullet or mortar grenade. Good times.

Okay - Bruins on the attack in the Power Play, but Canadiens desperately clear the hot little black piece of pre-frozen vulcanised rubber. Slapshot! Great save by Condon the Canadien. Bruins come again, sluicing up the rink, all action in their black kit with yellow trim. What is a Bruin, anyway? Some sort of bear? We may never know. We do know because the internet says that since 1924 these two teams have played each other 909 times, more than any other two teams. No wonder they hate each other, they’ve been whacking each other with sticks for 90 years.

Bruins ice the puck. Men being banged into the boards. There’s a hook ... which you’re not allowed to do. And the Bruins have a power play because a Canadien must spend a short period in the naughty chair, where “You feel shame”, according to one of the many crackerjack quotes from the best film of its generation, Slapshot. Haven’t seen it? Do yourself a favour and check it out. Top film.

Okay - Canadiens bombing away again, there’s a huge ruck in the Bruins goal and a Bruins man has to go off for being bad. Bruins scrapping hard, four men on five ... Rask, busy. And there’s a breakout by the Bruins, two-on-two ... nothign doing, but it’s now 5-on-5 again ... and you sense these home town Boston Boomtown rats need to conjure the next goal, lest the Canadiens run off with this Winter Classic.

No argument:

Okay, we’re back for the second period, and it’s puck down ... and we’re away. Super physical immediately, and competitive, the sticks chop at the puck like Benny Hana on a cucumber ... Slapshot! Canadiens taking up where they left off, attacking like many ninja. But Rask holds firm, the Bruins’ best.

Doug Tilly asks perhaps the person least qualified in the entire world, “By any chance did you catch which player’s stick was the 1st broken one of the game? We have a bet riding on this one.”

Anyone? Bueller? Anyone?

In the meantime, local meteorologist Sarah Wroblewski says:

Slapshot! No - a fake one. Slapshot! Yes - and Tuuku Rask makes another save. Fighting? Sort of wrestling. Power play’s over. Vision from the net cam filled up with Tuuku’s heavily-padded backside. And there’s the first period done and dusted. And it’s without question been the Canadiens on top, they’ve shot the puck at the net many more times, and are skating with greater alacrity. Okay - we’ll take a very short break here in the Manly Vale man-cave, Sydney, Australia, entirely other Hemisphere. Don Cherry’s on the telly. Back with you in good time.

Canadiens owning this fixture, they’ve had 12 shots on goal to two. The puck - made of galvanised rubber, they’re frozen before the game so they don’t bounce too much - is shooting about, and the players are going at it. And ... well, there’s the odd call for icing, which is shooting the puck too far up the rink. Shot! Bruins attack, and make the Canadiens goal-tender make a couple of saves. Fans in the crowd, dressed in winter ski-ware, many beanies. And the Canadiens come again, and Tuuku Rask makes another save, he’s been busy, our Tuuku. And the Canadiens have a power player because Bruins No.54 got hit in the chest with a flying puck. Seems you can’t do that.

Okay, great puffs of white ice fluffing into the air. Men scrap for the puck with the intensity of seagulls fighting for a French Fry, armed with giant whacking sticks. There’s some pushing and suchforth. Men skate off, men skate on. Puck is shooting around at very high speeds, even warp speeds, you wouldn’t want to wear it in the teeth, this much is certain.

Good times:

Righto, still the Canadiens cometh and Tuuku Rask is “swimming” out to get the puck. He does the splits then gets out on his belly to get the puck. Desperate action. Sticks whacking away like people fighting over a french fry with huge chopsticks. Two men in naughty chairs, off for fighting. High speed and physical action. The puck isn’t even a blur, it’s invisible. Naughty boys back on the ice. Players swapping off and on. Some huge men out here, like bouncers on ice, wearing boots with little guillotines on the sole, you would not mess with them.

Canadiens, nominally on top ... well, they’re leading 1-nil so they’re actually on top too but they appear to have had the best of this fixture thus far. Certainly Bruins custodian Tuuku Rask, part-jungle cat, part man, has been the busier goal-tender.

Ha! Vison on the TV, THE REFEREE IS BLEEDING FROM THE FACE, oh my. Old fights on vintage footage. Tremendous. Okay - we’re back in the thick of it. Puck down and Daniel Carr takes on Tuuku Rask who makes another fast-flinching save, the man has the reflexes of a jaguar, perhaps, or a snow leopard.

Okay - beautiful day here in Foxboro, Massachusetts. We’re having a break for ... something. A TV timeout. Players gots to be paid. And the puck is down, and we’re away again. AND THERE’S SOME FIGHTING ... two men, the goal scorer Desharnais ... a pair of bantam weights. No47 Krug was into him, shoving him quite roughly ... and they’re both off the field, in respective naughty chairs. Ha. Don’t go changin, National Hockey League.

Here cometh the Canadiens. Power play. But Bruins attack! Crowd gets jiggy. Penalty? No. Tuuku Rask keeping his team in this. Plenty action on the boards. Maxy Talbot’s back from his two-minute break. And with 12 minutes left in the first period one thing is clear: it’s quite hard to call a game of ice hockey by typing it.

Okay, puck skidding around. Physical action. Puck shoots over the glass. There’s a penalty. No.25 Talbot is off to the naughty box for a couple of minutes. It’s Canadiens with five men playing Bruins with four. Plus the goal-keeper. Not many men.

David Desharnais is credited with the goal. Here come the Bruins. Sliding around. There’s a broken stick. Another call for icing. These teams have been playing for 90 years.

Okay, mass sticking, skating ... the puck is skidding about, invisible, the players doing their thing. There’s a call for “icing” which is when you shoot the puck from end to end, you can’t do that. Bruins working their way up. Ice looks perfect. TO ON ONE! HE SHOOTS, HE MISSES, because our man Tuuku Rask, my favourite ever hockey player, rips off a cracking one-glove save. Top stuff.

Okay. Minutes, seconds even until face-off, drop the puck ... Mike Condon in goal for the Canadiens in place of Harry Price, last year’s MVP ... and we are ... YES! WE ARE GO.

And here’s Jordan Smith, who won American Idol, or something, and ... oh? Big voice, Oh say can you see by the dawn’s early light? You can, and it’s Jordan Smith, filling the screen. Huge flag. Tuuku Rask, a goal-keeper and wearer of a cracking helmet. When he’s hot he can win you games single-handedly, apparently. A huge fighter jet roars over the top just as Jordan reaches the zenith of the cracking anthem of these United States of America, and it’s true: The joint is ready to rumble.

Okay - here come the players. Heralded by men with giant trombones. Other men in patriot kit, and muskets. Here come the Bruins. Men shoot muskets. Conductor man leading the Boston Pop, the music people. It’s the latest Star Wars theme music. Players walk between them. Great gussets of flame shoot out geyser things, like in Texas oil fields. And here’s the military, carrying many flags. And all rise for the Canadian national anthem, sung by a poor man’s Marky Mark. Cool rendition, like Green Day ripping it out. Guitars, drums. It’s quite cool. Oh Canada? You betcha.

This is good:

Okay, Don Cherry, a Legend, having a chat on the television. Vision of players turning up in suits, quite natty. There’s a man in a purple suit and cowboy hat. Another looks like he’s about to get on a fancy big boat. And here comes the pre-match pageantry. Musical types. Hipsters in those skinny jeans normal people can’t get above their calves. They’re called American Authors and they’ve got an Enya sort of African thing going on, lot of I-yi-yiiis, possibly a banjo-mandolin. Pony tails. Johnny Depp beards. Hopefully when they’re done both teams scream out of the tunnel and clean them up, en masse.

Righto. Welcome back to Foxboro, Massachusetts, The People, we’re moments away from the start of Winter Classic 2016, live and frozen-sweaty here at Gillette Stadium. I’m Matt Cleary in a man cave in Manly Vale, Sydney, Australia, with an actual Canadian, my man Tronty (Canucks fans) who’ll be flinging me random tidbits given my Hockey Knowledge extends to several viewings of the crackerjack film Slapshot which starred Paul Newman, Strother Martin and Jerry Houser as “Dave ‘Killer’ Carson”. It also featured “The Hanson Brothers” who were long-haired homicidal madmen who’d wear foil in their gloves the better to punch people with. One of the great films of our time. But it’s about the extent of my knowledge of ice hockey.

I did see a game once, live, in 1991, in Washington DC and remember one man didn’t wear a helmet because he was a veteran and there was respect for him, he was not to be roughed up, a nicety which did not extend to another man who was knocked out cold when he was rammed into a wall, an act which instigated a mighty all-in brawl which featured all the players, and reserve players, and coaches, and gear stewards, just about everybody, fighting on ice, whacking away at each other with giant sticks. It was tremendous entertainment.

Then a man in the crowd hopped up on a bollard or something and began dancing so he could get on Sportscenter or whatever, the silly moo, and security kicked him out. There’ll be none of that frippery here, fellow. Fighting good, dancing bad, it says so on your ticket.

Okay! Not long now until anthems and puck off and, presumably, quite a lot of fighting and quick-stick whack-action. So settle in over your digital device and zap us anything that comes to mind via Twitter @journomatcleary (#BackOutdoors #WinterClassic) or email: matt.cleary@theguardian.com.

Foxboro, Massachusetts, is ready to rumble.

How good’s this from Tim Thompson @b0undless:

Greetings, The People, and welcome to Gillette Stadium in Foxboro, Massachusetts, for the Big One: The 2016 Winter Classic of ice hockey in this man’s National Hockey League. It’s Boston Bruins versus Montreal Canadiens, traditional arch-rivals, a high-speed monster mash of whack-action on ice. And it should be really quite good.

Looks a chilly enough day here in Foxboro, Massachusetts, about 41F, which is important given the town - 22 miles south of downtown Boston - is hosting a game played upon frozen water. When it’s not stage for huge men in Freddy Kruger fright-masks wearing boots packing razor-sharp daggers tearing about a frozen pond waving giant whacking sticks at one another, Gillette Stadium is home of the New England Patriots (NFL), the New England Revolution (Major League Soccer), the UMass Minutemen (could be anything, Wikipedia says athletics) and the Boston Cannons which is not a crack squad of competitive Civil War re-enactors but rather a lacrosse team, the sport which is Canada’s national sport, you’d think it was ice hockey but it’s not it’s lacrosse).

So there you go.

Okay! I’m Matt Cleary calling the fixture from deep within a mate’s man cave in Manly Vale in Sydney in Australia which is deep within the Southern Hemisphere and a long way from Foxboro, Massachusetts I can give you the tip. Indeed if you ran a skewer through a globe from Sydney it’d pop out the other side in waters due north of Puerto Rico. Consequently it’s stupid-early here (4:30am) on this dark side of the moon. It’s also January 2nd. Good times.

Okay, we’re T-minus not-long-now until start, and would love to hear your thoughts on this fixture, particularly given my own knowledge of ice hockey extends not far past watching the crackerjack film Slapshot. So do zap us anything that comes to mind on the Twitter @journomatcleary (#BackOutdoors #WinterClassic) or email: matt.cleary@theguardian.com. We’re thirty minutes from puck off, puck down, whatever quick-stick’n hot puck action begins these high-paced, big-whacking affairs of the ice. And we will talk again soon.

Matt will be here shortly. In the meantime, here’s what Bruins goaltender Tuuka Rask will be wearing today: