Beanpot Final: BC 6. BU2

These are terrible times, my friends. Terrible. There might be brief, fleeting moments of joy or happiness left in life, but the great American experiment in participatory democracy has come to an end. Our government is corrupt, blatantly racist, and hostile to the very nation is purportedly governs. The climate has gone haywire, regulations protecting the environment from industrial discharges are being dismantled, new diseases are emerging and old one are reemerging, popular music is shit, movies have become comic books, and comic books have become our new sacred texts. 

Sports, once the true opiate of the masses, offer no relief. The Georgia Bulldogs were eliminated from the Playoffs in their first game, the mighty Boston Bruins are a fifth-place team, Jayson Tatum can't dance, the New England Patriots lost the Super Bowl on Sunday, and last night, Boston University, the defending Beanpot champions, lost to the No. 14 Boston College Eagles, 6-2, in the 2026 Beanpot final game. The fucking Eagles, man! I hate the fucking Eagles!

For the record, it was the 73rd annual Beanpot tournament and the 300th hockey game between BU and BC. Svoboda and Eiserman both scored goals in last night's game, but does it matter? Does anything matter? Life is a formless, empty black void which we can try to fill with alcohol, drugs, and sex, only to find ourselves staring back into the infinite abyss again. 

The unranked Terriers, the No. 1 team in the country earlier this season, fall to 13-14-2 overall. They trail Providence by 13 points in the Hockey East standings at 9-10-0 in conference play, with only five games left to the regular season. If there's a god, he, she, or it is staring back at us in astonishment, trying to figure where and how their creation's gone so horribly wrong. We're staring into the void, the void is staring back at us, and the first person to blink losses their testicles.

This cursed month of February, dead in the lifeless cold of mid-winter, will offer us a Friday the 13th, so there's that. On that inauspicious date, the Terriers will try to regroup, and in an act of near-heroic self will, get up out of bed that morning, at some point lace up their skates, and despite the overwhelming meaninglessness  of human existence, play an ice-hockey game in the frigid state of New Hampshire against the pitiful Wildcats (11-14-1), the last-place team in Hockey East, where they're 5-10-1. 

The Terriers will probably lose the game because it's that kind of year.