“Love.”
That’s the one word I’d use if I had to describe Patrice Bergeron. Not “perfection.”
He’s human, after all. I’m sure even Patrice Bergeron has had to raise his inflection when disciplining one of his kids for misbehaving. Not that any Bergeron kid would ever misbehave for starters.
Everyone has talked about the person that Bergeron is and was on and off the ice.
To me growing up, he was like Bergeron’s favorites himself— Joe Sakic and Peter Forsberg. It also helps that I shared a little something in common with Bergeron— I, too, was a huge fan of Sakic, though I didn’t get to watch as much of his career as Bergeron did and had an appreciation for Forsberg given my second-favorite team growing up was the Colorado Avalanche.
Bergeron, of course, knew them as members of the Québec Nordiques— a team that existed when I was born about 10 years after Bergeron. But the Nordiques relocated after the 1994-95 season, breaking Bergeron’s heart in the process, I’m sure. They played a role as the Avalanche, however, during the 1999-2000 season in acquiring Ray Bourque from the Boston Bruins.
Bourque would stick around for one more full season with the Avs after Colorado lost in Game 7 of the 2000 Western Conference Final to the Dallas Stars.
Joe Sakic would hand Ray Bourque the Cup immediately upon accepting the 35-pound oldest trophy in professional sports from NHL Commissioner Gary Bettman instead of doing the traditional first raising of Lord Stanley as team captain in June 2001.
Bergeron was drafted by the Bruins two years later, 45th overall, in the second round of the 2003 NHL Draft in Nashville.
He made his NHL debut with Boston on October 8, 2003, on home ice at the then-FleetCenter against the New Jersey Devils— the same team Bourque and the Avalanche beat in seven games to win the Cup two years prior.
Bergeron was 18 in his first NHL season. I was eight, but turned nine by the time I went to my first game— April 9, 2004, Game 2 of the Eastern Conference Quarterfinal against the Montréal Canadiens.
Of course, I’ve told this story many times before. I was there in Balcony 313, Row 9.
Rewatching the highlight of the goal or even the rebroadcast of the entire game is weird to me because I remember it from a completely different angle— the best angle.
The one where Bergeron streamed down the ice, riffled a shot and the puck trickled through José Théodore. I remember watching the puck as though it were moving in slow motion and the eruption of the crowd pop, old FleetCenter Bruins goal horn and the organist playing “Paree” as everyone was leaving the building elated after the overtime win.
I was wearing my first Bruins hat and clutching a Blades the Bruin plush doll— both purchased earlier that day during warmup— as my family and I walked out of the building and climbed the old North Station elevated T stop to trek back to Riverside. I still have my thundersticks from that game, as well, and my brother’s old hand-me-down youth-sized Ray Bourque Bruins jersey that I wore that day.
Despite being born in Massachusetts, I was not born with skates on my feet.
I didn’t learn to skate until I was 12-years-old.
That, among some other reasons that we’ve all encountered as part of hockey culture— but don’t want to admit— factored into why I never got to play the game.
Patrice Bergeron has always been inclusive.
Some will say that he’s “team first,” but he’s really “people first.” He values each individual as a person— living a full life away from the rink, as much as they are at the rink. He respects everyone. It does not matter if you are mopping the place up after a game, a reporter, fan, teammate, coach, general manager or CEO— Bergeron does not discriminate in his kindness and humility.
Some number of years ago, former Bruins defender, Andrew Ference, had an image of skeletons as his Twitter profile header. Underneath each skeleton was a label like “straight”, “gay”, “religious”, “atheist”, “Black” and “white.” The point of which was a simple one— that we are all made of the same organic material. All of our personal identifiers decompose when we die— rendering all of us the same. Just bones. Carbon made from literal stardust.
Zdeno Chára was the first player to advocate for and on behalf of You Can Play after the Burke family created the organization in the wake of Brendan’s passing. Bergeron and Ference followed suit.
The three players and their advocacy as allies— not just to the LGBTQ+ community, but to all individuals with respect as paramount to the cause of lifting up rather than punching down— left the biggest impression on my upbringing as a fan and as someone that wanted to emulate their leadership in all facets of life.
When Bergeron announced his retirement three years ago, my father told me how happy he was that Bergeron had been a role model in my life and that we got to watch the entirety of his career together, even though he was more of a fan of David Krejčí himself.
Krejčí reminded him more of someone like Johnny Bucyk in his younger days when he was watching the Bruins win two Cups in a span of three years in 1970 and 1972.
Bergeron still carries himself with grace, class and love. For the sport itself, but beyond that for other human beings and for life itself.
If there were ever to be a Legends Row in Boston like the one in Toronto, Bergeron is a first ballot choice alongside Chára, Bucyk, Bourque, Eddie Shore, Tiny Thompson, Lionel Hitchman, Frank Brimsek, Milt Schmidt and Willie O’Ree. Those are the foundations upon which the Ultimate Bruins are built.
Bobby Orr already has his statue. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind a few more teammates.
For an entire generation of Bruins fans, Bergeron displayed how to conduct oneself with the utmost sincerity. Practice doesn’t make perfect. Nobody is. But you can be a better person out of love and respect.
Just like Bergy does.
Down the Frozen River 
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