Deepfreeze

Dear Bruins Fans:

You know who you are. Both of you.

Look, I know it's been a hard century so far. Since the millennium changed, the Patriots have gone from burlesque to dynasty, and even the Red Sox have managed to stumble through to a world championship. For a while, you had the Celtics as partners in both misery and soulless arenas. But then they went out and brought in Kevin Garnett and Ray Allen; so, at least until somebody's aging ankle eats itself, they've claimed a lower frequency of the overall buzz for themselves. The other owners spend money, and suddenly there are people walking around in pink Sox caps and blue "Moss" jerseys. There are so many pasty middle-aged men running around in new Celtic singlets that the average court in the suburbs looks like a society wedding has broken out with a whole lot of big green-and-white tents. And there you are, bereft, left behind over in the corner of things, your elbows peeking out of your threadbare "Krushelnyski" sweater. Since the last time you won the Stanley Cup - 35 years ago this spring - the coveted silver birdbath has come to rest in hockey hotbeds like Dallas, Raleigh, and Tampa. It's currently in Anaheim, which is not even a real place. It's a special effect with freeways. Poor you. It is to weep. Seriously.

Don't change. Don't lose faith. Don't ponder the question of whether the people who own your favorite team really want to win. Don't think too long and too hard about what suckers you'd have to be to keep falling for this con, year after year. Collectively, you're the last repository of legitimate public misery that the Boston sports fan has. Don't let all the rest of us down.

Charles P. Pierce
pierce@globe.com