Sidney Crosby comes to play in Montreal tomorrow. I want my Habs to win the game, but I also want Sidney to score in Montreal. He is closing in on Gordie Howe for the record of points with a single team, but more importantly, he is on the verge of surpassing the one thousand seven hundred and twenty-two points of Mario Lemieux, marking a historic moment in Montreal. A goal in Montreal would carry special meaning, especially after the recent tribute paid to Mario Lemieux. It would make Crosby the highest scorer with a single team in NHL history, a unique achievement. At thirty-eight years of age, every goal, every point speaks to his longevity and perseverance, cementing his status as a living legend, at a time when he is nowhere near retirement. His performances continue to redefine the game, and such a goal would become a new chapter in the history of modern hockey that he himself has helped shape. In Montreal— the very city where the National Hockey League was founded on the twenty-sixth of November, nineteen seventeen, succeeding the National Hockey Association, and where the first season began in December nineteen seventeen, with the Montreal Canadiens and the Montreal Wanderers among its four founding teams— Montreal stands as the cradle of modern professional hockey in North America. Make no mistake: Crosby embodies, for a large segment of the Montreal public, the quintessential Quebec-adjacent player— Francophile, respectful of tradition, deeply attached to the game “the old way.” In many respects, he fits the profile of the player Montreal has historically valued: quiet leadership, unwavering excellence, and a profound sense of collective responsibility. Unlike other superstars, Crosby has never been perceived as a despised antagonist in Montreal. He is granted a form of moral legitimacy: he wins “the right way.” In Montreal, every elite young player is implicitly measured against what Crosby represents: consistency over flash, a culture of detail, the primacy of the collective, and off-ice exemplarity. In other words, Crosby is less a regret than a fantasized model— what Montreal would like to produce or attract, but what its own ecosystem often struggles to bring forth. Crosby has become something of an unofficial patron saint of hockey done right, including in Montreal. He is not one of ours, yet he is respected as though he shared our moral DNA. If he scores a goal, I would hope that beyond partisan divides we might pause for a moment— a one-minute retrospective video, as Sidney receives the standing ovation of his life. That he might feel the transfer of affection that only Canadiens fans can bestow upon an NHL player, as recognition for a life of consistent and honest athletic excellence. Of course, this is a dream. But I dream that, for one minute, Sidney might feel the desire to become a member of our team— to which he is a blood brother through the heart.
