By Josh Heller

They say time heals all wounds. That eventually, all the pain and suffering of yesteryear will fade into oblivion. But I speak from experience when I say this is simply not the case. Some wounds need more than time to heal; some need revenge. Nowhere is this more true – at least for me – than in the case of the Northeastern Huskies and the Boston University Terriers in the Beanpot.

It has been two years since Northeastern played the Terriers in the Beanpot. It was Valentine’s Day, 2005, and what transpired that night is still vivid in my memory, no matter how much time has passed.

Every Husky fan who was paying attention to that game has their own story of exactly where they were, of the disappointment they felt and of the wounds they suffered that night, which they are still living with today.

This is my story.

I was a sophomore at Northeastern and had recently begun working for the campus radio station, WRBB, and had been working with the hockey broadcast team when the Beanpot rolled around.

I was lucky enough to be part of that team as the sideline reporter, which allowed me to be in the Northeastern student section during the game.

During breaks in the action I would comment on the state of the crowd and therefore had the privilege of being in the middle of the celebration when Tim Judy scored the game-winning goal against Harvard in double overtime of the first round. And it was with that glorious memory fresh in my mind that I went to the championship game against Boston University.

After 60 gut-wrenching minutes of hockey, it was tied up at two. The Huskies had successfully come back from an early 2-0 deficit, and were now skating into overtime with confidence and the momentum to win their first Beanpot in 17 years.

I was then told to take my microphone and go down to ice level and wait until the end of the game. The plan was if Northeastern won in overtime, I would go onto the ice and interview the victorious Huskies.

The thought of walking out onto the ice and talking to the players and coaches was almost too much. On the one hand, as a young broadcaster I understood how great an opportunity it would have been for me. On the other hand, as a rabid Husky fan I wondered how I would be able to ask any questions when I knew a Beanpot win would leave me utterly speechless.

At ice level I encountered other media outlets waiting to take the ice after the game ended. There were sportscasters I recognized from television and writers I grew up reading in the paper. And then there were two young men who, like me, were waiting to take the ice if their team won.

We exchanged pleasantries in a feigned attempt at courtesy, but deep down we were all thinking the same thing: I can’t wait to rub this in your face when we win.

We moved to a TV with the game feed so we could see the action better. We watched nervously as the game went back and forth, back and forth, and then at 14:10 into overtime, it was all over. With one flick of his wrist, Chris Bourque (I still shudder when I hear his name) slipped the puck past Keni Gibson.

The memory is still strong; the feeling of utter disappointment, the let-down that was so hard to handle, and the thing I remember most is the smug looks on the faces of the two BU reporters. I’ll never forget that look of superiority, or the flashes of hurt and anger I felt course through my veins at that moment.

Most of the coaching staff from that team is gone. Many of the players are too. But for me, the hurt and anger are still there, and the wound is still fresh.

Two years is not enough time; two centuries is not enough time. I don’t need time to heal these wounds. All I need is for that smug look to be wiped off the face of every BU player, coach and student.

It’s been two years since these teams have met on Causeway Street. It’s time to settle the score.

They say revenge is a dish best served cold. I’ll take mine on ice.

– Josh Heller is the play-by-play

voice of Northeastern men’s hockey

for WRBB Radio (104.9 FM).