Boston has a bit of a history of violence.
March 5, 1770: A British officer involved in the occupation of Boston is accosted by snowballs after being accused of not paying his bill at a local wigmaker's shop. A British private joins the fray, striking a Bostonian in the head with the butt of his musket. This attracts more angry locals, prompting the British regiment stationed in the area to send a squad of soldiers to keep order. The mob grew to three to four hundred colonials. A private was struck with a club, and fired his musket, prompting the other soldiers to do the same. Eleven Bostonians were shot, five of them died. The aftermath of the incident helped spark the American Revolution.
June 11, 1837: A company of Yanke firefighters collided with an Irish funeral procession on Broad Street, starting a melee which would come to be known as the Broad Street Riot. Over one thousand people were involved at the height of the fracas, vandalizing houses, breaking into homes, and hurling rocks and other items at each other, finally being broken up when the military was called in.
June 14, 1962 to January 4, 1964: Over the course of a year and a half, Albert DeSalvo gains entry to the apartments of thirteen single women, sexually assaulting and then murdering them in their homes. DeSalvo was the prime suspect, and after being caught, he confessed to the crimes. Despite this, the police are still unconvinced that DeSalvo committed all the murders himself, the majority of the press and public believe that Albert was the one and only Boston Strangler. DeSalvo spent the rest of his life in prison, aside from a short time out after a prison break. He was never convicted of the murders. His confession was enough for the judge, as DeSalvo was never even put on trial for the crimes.
April 16, 2009: The most heated rivalry in the National Hockey League comes to the postseason for the 32nd time. Two Original Six rivals, the Boston Bruins and Montreal Canadiens, square off in the Eastern Conference Quarterfinals. The Bruins are the top seed, and the Habs are the eighth seed, but in a matchup like this, seeding goes out the window. Anything can happen. The Bruins take game one at home, and the aftermath nearly sets the Garden alight. After an empty net goal to seal the game for the Bruins, an overzealous Bostonian seizes an opportunity, grabbing Alexei Kovalev's stick as it pokes through a hole in the glass meant for cameras. Kovalev and the fan have a brief tug-of-war over the stick, until a Montreal native charges the Bruins fan, knocking him to the ground and freeing the stick from his grasp. Another man takes a running leap onto the pile, throwing haymakers at the Canadiens fan, trying to help his fellow Bostonian. Security breaks up the fight, and all three are charged with disorderly conduct.
This is the story of the third man in.
[Fade in on a jail cell in downtown Boston. A blond man sits on a bench. His hair is a desheveled mess, hanging down into his face. His Bruins jersey is rumpled, and the left arm is wet from the elbow down, presumably soaked in beer. There's a large cut on his cheek, which has been sealed with Crazy Glue by a medic who happened to be at the precinct during the booking. The man looks up, and his now-familiar face turns from a half-drunken scowl to a large grin.]
"REBEL FANS! No, wait. That's not right..."
[He stops and thinks, pushing the hair back from his face.]
"Oh, right. TEAM FANS! How are ya? I'm doing great, thanks for asking. Hell of a game, eh? If the Habs think they can come into our building and take game one, they've got another thing coming. Hopefully I'll be able to get out of here in time to see game two on Saturday. Season tickets, man, season tickets."
[He stands, and walks to the bars.]
"What's a guy gotta do to get a beer around here!?"
[The cop guarding the cells yells something down the row, but by the time it gets to the end of the block, it's unintelligible.]
"Figures. Get tossed in the drunk tank, and can't even get a beer. How's a guy supposed to keep his playoff buzz going in this kind of atmosphere?"
[Sean walks back to the cot, and lays down. He stares at the ceiling as he talks in the general direction of the camera.]
"This is one hell of a week. I win the REBEL Carolinas Championship, I get to see the Sox open their season, I defend my title, the Bruins take game one of the playoffs, and then I get arrested for defending another citizen. One of these things is not like the others... One of these things just isn't the same..."
[He sings the last two lines, and the cop at the other end yells down again, but again it's just a garbled mess of syllables.]
"And now I get the week off in REBEL. Don't know why, but I'm not complaining. Another week as champ without having to defend the belt, and another week to rest up before my match in the TEAM tournament. Speaking of which. I'm sure Cameron's never seen the inside of a jail cell before now, mister hoity toity, fast cars and faster women, Gucci and Gabbana. But let me give him a bit of insight. When you're in here, behind bars, you get to thinking. Not "how did I get in here" like the cliche from the movies. Mostly just stuff like "I'm hungry, I wonder if I've got any ramen left at home" or "I wonder if Cameron Cruise has ever had ramen", just goofy stuff, really. But sometimes you get a real gem of a thought. One of those thoughts that knocks you on your ass and makes you think "holy hell, that's a really good question". And this time, here's what I got when I pulled that slot-machine arm of thinking. "What am I fighting for?" Not in life, or even just in my general career. In this tournament. I haven't heard any word of a big prize, or a TEAM TOURNAMENT CHAMPIONSHIP BELT. It mostly seems like it's just for pride.
Which makes me wonder, Cameron. Why are you here? It seems to me like you're proud enough for eight or nine people, with your fancy sunglasses and fancier watch. Why are you even in this tournament?"
[The cop comes to the front of the cell, and raps his nightstick on the bars.]
"Robinson. You made bail. Let's go."
[Sean hops up from the cot, and walks out of the frame. The picture goes to black as the sounds of a Boston jail fade away.]