The Tampa Terror

Intro: Tom

On November 3, 2018, some douchebag killed me at a bar in downtown Tampa. I was a forty-four-year-old Massachusetts native obsessed with hockey and everything about it. That night, I was pretty satisfied after the worst rivals of my favorite team, the Boston Bruins, had been soundly defeated by a score of four to one. I didn't like the Tampa Bay Lightning at the time, and I still don't today, but a Canadiens loss always fills me with unspeakable joy.

My older brother James lives in Tampa with his wife. In 2018, they had just moved into an apartment in the downtown area. I decided to be generous and help them unpack everything they had brought to Florida. James and his wife eagerly accepted my offer, and soon, I hopped on an airplane and began my week-long stay in Tampa.

That was just two days before everything ended for me. I was a frequent flier at bars in Boston–so much so that every bartender in the Faneuil Hall knew me by name. Therefore, on November 3, I decided that my being in Florida for a week called for a visit to the absolute best bar in Tampa. I had been working nonstop for the past two days, and my craving for alcohol had to be satisfied before I could start working again.

I perched on a stool for two and a half hours as I watched the desperate Canadiens get crushed by the Tampa Bay Lightning, who were so much better than them. As they lost, I smiled as I thought of all the Habs fans crying in despair.

After drinking a small amount more than my body could handle, I stumbled as I escaped from the crowded, trashy atmosphere of the bar. Unfortunately, I tripped and bumped directly into someone who did not want to be touched in any way, even if the contact was accidental.

That man is who murdered me that night. I never even found out what his name was, but it was he who pummeled me so severely that I died from my injuries. When I accidentally bumped into him, he didn't even ask me if I wanted to fight. Instead, he just started bashing my head in with his massive fists, and within minutes, everything in my field of vision was pitch black. After fifteen minutes had elapsed, my brain ceased to function. Despite the best efforts of the many police officers and paramedics who had arrived at the scene after the fight, I died from internal bleeding and blunt force trauma to the head.

Strangely, one of the most obvious things that I remember about that terrifying night was the fact that the Montréal Canadiens and the Tampa Bay Lightning had played each other. I also recalled that I had watched it on a television screen. Although it was such an insignificant detail, it still stuck in my brain in the way that wads of chewing gum, spit-out and discarded, stick firmly to the sidewalks of Boston.

After I regained consciousness, I loathed both teams with my entire soul, now as a ghost instead of a living human being. I immediately blamed both teams for being indirectly responsible for my premature, violent death. It was, I declared, their fault that I had gotten inebriated and stumbled into my murderer. Therefore, I swore to get revenge on the Canadiens and the Lightning someday.

My opportunity came recently, and it came in the most unexpected form imaginable. In any year besides 2021, the Canadiens and the Lightning competing against each other in the Stanley Cup Finals would have been inconceivable. They were in the same conference, but a competitor from both the Eastern and Western Conferences needed to be in the Finals. Therefore, Montréal and Tampa Bay would not end up in the Finals together in an average year. 2021, though, was not a typical year.

The coronavirus pandemic commenced in the spring of 2020. By the summer of the following year, the disease was still causing death and devastation worldwide. Due to the chaotic playoffs situation of 2020, the 2021 season was delayed from October to January. Also, the schedule was shortened from the usual eighty-two games to fifty-six. The divisions were realigned to comply with the border regulations and restrictions of the Canadian government, and all games were interdivisional. As a result, no team in the league played a game against a team outside of their division.

The Lightning remained in the Atlantic division, but the Canadiens joined a temporary North division and competed against the other six Canadian NHL teams besides themselves. They somehow managed to end up in the Western Conference, so they faced the Lightning in the Finals.

This sequence happened just about seven months ago. The Canadiens, shockingly, are currently the worst in the standings, but Tampa Bay is still one of the best teams. However, it feels like yesterday that I first started to haunt the two teams as they battled for the final prize.

I made the players' lives a living nightmare in every way I could. I attempted to take the life of at least one of them, so my desire to take revenge on both teams for my death would be completely fulfilled. The latter didn't work, but it was still satisfying to see the look of absolute terror on Gustav Nordin's pallid face. His shrieks entertained me as I held him by his hair high above the ice at the AMALIE Arena in Tampa, preparing to drop him fifty feet to his death. It really is a shame that his boyfriend and several other players were there to catch him and thwart my perfect plan.

In some ways, I believe that my attempt to help that young Tampa Bay Lightning defenseman experience as untimely an ending as I did was an unwise idea. The others had been assuming that an unpleasant spirit had been bothering them for the last week, but they were suspicious. After my whole performance with Gustav Nordin, their worst fears were confirmed. Therefore, they acted quickly, doing everything in their power to force me to leave them alone.

Despite their success at getting me to depart from them, I still think my haunting was fulfilling. I terrified the players and made them seriously fear for their young lives, just like I feared for my life on the night I was beaten to death. The pure shock and fright reflected back at me from their eyes filled a heart that hadn't functioned in years with warmth.

Looking back on everything months after it happened, I recognize that stressing people out on purpose is impolite. I was never overly concerned about how kind I was to others, but witnessing the reactions of the people I haunted made me think differently. After that, I focused on being empathetic towards people and respecting their feelings. After all, kindness is the exact opposite of what killed me in 2018.

But the story of how I do that is a story for another time. Right now, it's time to recount how the Montréal Canadiens and Tampa Bay Lightning were haunted relentlessly in the summer of 2021.