Why The Beanpot Still Matters

Every school has its legends. Whether it's a tour guide, upperclassmen, university officials, or alumni, you're guaranteed a tale or two. At Boston University, its usually of the seal, where to find the best and worst parties in Allston, and nicknames of each school that are always circulating.

But there's another story, too. One about two Monday nights in February. About cramped green lines that rival commuter hour rides. About an tournament that might as well be called an invitational. About an added benefit to calling yourself a Terrier.




But there's something off about the retelling of those nights. In perfect sequences, there are a few hundred students that make the trek, at least. The line around Agganis begins early and not everyone walks home happy. There's a scarlet and white sea among the gold of the Garden. There's only one student section to show up decked out in sweaters. The upper balcony rumbles and shakes with voices too excited to hold back witty response chants. But things have been truly far from that image in recent years.

If BU isn't playing BC or isn't in the finals, nobody seems to care. If we want to pride ourselves on being the most present student section, it does not bode well for the tournament as a whole. If BC or Northeastern fans manage to make it to a game, they never seem to make a dent in attendance numbers. Harvard might never sell another student ticket again. Casting the student sections aside, the lower seating never seems too into games either. Unless it's the finals, a few exuberant alumni may splatter into the seats, but never fill sections.

For the past four Beanpots, there seems to have been more and more disinterest from the general public. The trend may have started long before the current crop of students showed up to TD Garden and may continue long after they're gone. But it's obvious that right now the consensus from the Boston public is for change.

Almost every alteration has been throw out there. Change the dates, changes the times, change the venue. Cycle out the historic four for other Boston-area schools that could generate more interest. Make it an every other year tournament or maybe even less frequently. And of course, there are those that say the tournament might as well be over.

Yet despite all the heat that the tournament gets, there is a reason it does exists and should always exist.

Boston University men's ice hockey is having a difficult season. Boston College men's ice hockey is not. Northeastern men's ice hockey is taking everyone by surprise. Harvard men's ice hockey is not. There are 13 local Terriers, 9 local Eagles, 4 Massachusetts Huskies, and 5 area Crimson. Boston College is the only team with current members to have won the Beanpot and Harvard hasn't even made a final since 2008.

And you can bet these two games mean everything to the men on those teams.

Certain fans of any of the teams will try and tell you it's not an important couple of games. Conversely, other fans will tell you it means everything. But in the end, it's about what the guys on the ice feel. They learn about this tournament just like every other prospective student. But they hear the other sides of the stories. They hear from the players that endured the tournament, those that won and lost. They hear about the memories and the emotions. About the talks in the locker rooms, the chatter on the bench, the late game timeouts. Then they get to go and make their own. For a year, two years, three or four. They get to make that series of events that they'll tell the players after them. They get to make marks.

For the local kids, they've known this tournament since the beginning. They've most likely been to it, sat in the crowd and watched game after game year after year. It's a draw that brings some of those local kids to the area teams. They know that they finally have the opportunity to not only say they've been a part of it all, but maybe even won it. At the very least, they played their hearts out trying to win hardware. To them, it might not have been a goal to play in a National Championship game. But it may have been to play in a game for pride, to say they're worth all the beans in Boston.

As for the out of town kids, it could arguably carry even more weight. Everyone knows what it feels like to win an away game. To be in a place so foreign and perhaps without support, but to come out on top anyways. They haven't grown up with the thought of a Beanpot Championship in their head, but that doesn't make them want it any less. To be able to leave their home state or country, come to Boston, and say they're a part of the best team in that city. Right where they belong. It's like finding a second home.

The only other thing that cycles out as frequently as the team is the students. If you're a BU student, you probably know what a BC away game feels like. You've most likely made a trip to Northeastern. Maybe you've even hit up the Bright Hockey Center. But it's completely different for every student at the Garden. It starts from storming the T, attempting to block out other schools or missing them completely. Before the puck drops the air in the Garden makes it feel like playoff season. You can't but help feel your blood pump when the lights dim and the scoreboard reminds you of the past 60+ seasons. Then the chants start. There's always a safety school or a Sunday school, someone is always someone else's reject, someone always has grade inflation. But it's only in the Garden that you can respond to an "I can't hear you" with an "I can't see you." It's only in the Garden that the student section and the band continually play dumb with security for 45 minutes before they just give up and let them sit next to each other. It's only in the Garden that you can root for a team in week one and then want to destroy them the very next. It's only in the Garden that the extra space makes you extra dauntless.

There is always a guarantee that they'll be the same old faces at the Beanpot. Some people can't stay away, no matter the quality of the competition. Ticket prices could go up, games could be later, they would still be there. In the same token, there will be people that leave before they really give it a chance. They might watch a single game before giving up, or never return to the Garden after they graduate.

But in between the die hards and the fair weathers lie the group of people that truly make the Beanpot what it is. The group of fans with stars in their eyes and voices ready to be lost. The people who have never experienced it all firsthand, but have been told of the magic that can happen. People who not only buy into the hype, but contribute to it themselves. The people who are willing to sit through the game, whether their team is guaranteed a win or needs an epic comeback.

It's an awkward time in the hockey world where people are dismissing every type of specialty game because the novelty has worn off. There's constant complaints about outdoor games and mid-season tournaments. The people that have been around for a while are trying to convince everyone around them that these games shouldn't exist. But they should. They should exist for the group of people that never had the chance to see them. Everyone's first game is special, everyone's first outdoor game is special, everyone's first Beanpot is special. These games will always be new and exciting to somebody and that's exactly why they matter.

This tournament is not all about pleasing resentful sports writers. It's not made for the fans that would rather sit on a couch and watch on NESN. It's made for the people that wouldn't miss a single second for anything. They'd skip class, leave work early, and still come back for the consolation game. They are the people that make the tournament worth playing. So stop trying to put reasons in their heads why they shouldn't show up. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion. Even if they walk out and never return, they have every right to make that decision themselves.

It's a genuine hope that the group of people that have never experienced a Beanpot before drown the bitterness out. You don't have to attend, but if you do, hopefully it's with an open mind. The Beanpot is what you make it. No other fan can define the tournament for you. It can be all you want it to be. Make the memories you tell future Terriers, Eagles, Huskies, and Crimson about.











Oh and for the love of god Terriers do not let my class be the second class to graduate without a god damn Beanpot. Thanks.