Blue Line Station
Fansided

“You get the Rangers or you get nothing!”

By Scott Esposito

Fans watch as the New York Rangers take the ice for pregame warmups before the home opener against the Colorado Avalanche at Madison Square Garden on October 5, 2017 in New York City. (Photo by Jared Silber/NHLI via Getty Images)
Fans watch as the New York Rangers take the ice for pregame warmups before the home opener against the Colorado Avalanche at Madison Square Garden on October 5, 2017 in New York City. (Photo by Jared Silber/NHLI via Getty Images) /
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FOXBORO, MA – DECEMBER 31: Ray Bourque #77 of the Boston Bruins skates against the Montreal Canadiens during the 2016 Bridgestone NHL Winter Classic Alumni Game at Gillette Stadium on December 31, 2015 in Foxboro, Massachusetts. (Photo by Maddie Meyer/Getty Images) /

My choice, my tantrum & my aunt’s ultimatum

By now you’ve probably guessed I picked the Bruins jersey.

For whatever reason in the sports store that day in 1980, my aunt sure seemed confident I’d pick the white jersey with R-A-N-G-E-R-S spelled diagonally down the front. She smiled, stepped aside, and told me to “pick one.” Five seconds later, I was holding the black sweater with the spoked-B.

Big mistake. Apparently, I unwittingly had picked a scab. Something about 1972 and the Stanley Cup, plus some Boston player named Mike Milbury beating a guy with his own shoe after he and some Bruins teammates went into the stands at MSG just before Christmas in 1979.

According to my aunt, the Bruins should have been better sports that night. So one of the Bruins had his stick snatched by a New York fan, so what? They shouldn’t have celebrated so close to the boards. Duh.

In hindsight, and to her credit, my aunt’s initial reaction to my choice of jersey was calm. But the combination of her disdain for the Bruins and my incessant whining quickly changed her disposition for the worse.

Our exchange went something like this:

Her (calmly): “No, you’re not getting the Bruins. You get the Rangers.”

Me (whining): “I want the Bruins. I don’t like the Rangers. They do those dumb jeans commercials and their uniforms are boring.”

Her (sternly): “You get the Rangers.”

Me (stomping my feet): “No! I hate the Rangers! They stink!”

Before I could say another word, she brought the store’s business with other customers to a sudden halt.

“YOU GET THE RANGERS OR YOU GET NOTHING!” she snapped, frothing at the mouth, very much like the dog in Cujo did before sinking his teeth into his victims.


Now who was big and bad?

Scared sh*tless, I took the Rangers jersey. (I mean, what kid chooses nothing, right?)

Lesson learned

Turns out I got more than a frothy tongue lashing and New York Rangers jersey. I received my first lesson in how much the Blueshirts mean to their fans and the bond the team creates among generations within families.

In time, I grew to love the Rangers. I didn’t get to my first game at MSG until my late teens. Every penny my father earned, as a teacher by day and grocery store manager at night, supported our family of five.

Finally, in December 1988, my father and I rode Metro North to Grand Central Terminal, walked from there to the Garden, and saw the Rangers destroy the New Jersey Devils. I was awed by the crowd noise and hearing the “Potvin Sucks” chant in person.

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