I recall an exchange with a blogger who claimed that there were only “a handful” of Habs fans outside Quebec. He was indignant that the Canadiens organization would spend anytime thinking about servicing their supporters in other parts of the country — it was announced that TSN would become the team’s regional English-language broadcaster. Besides, those fans could not possibly feel the same passion for the Habs as those within the province, he claimed.

As myopic as his opinion may seem, it is certainly not unique.

It was amusing to several of our readers that our mainstream counterpart has very recently discovered that indeed there are Habs fans (just) beyond the borders of the province — in the “far-flung” outpost of Ottawa. The author crowed about their website providing a link for enthusiasts outside Montreal who need their dose of Habs talk.

Baby steps, I suppose.

At All Habs, we have a different vision — a somewhat more ambitious one. I know that if you wear a Canadiens sweater anywhere on this earth, a fellow Habs fan will seek you out. When I hear from you — whether you are in Kitchener, Ontario; São Paulo, Brazil; or Melbourne, Australia — it’s immediately apparent that you are as passionate and loyal as any Canadiens fan waiting outside the Brossard practise facility parking garage for an autograph.

We see the globe as Planet Habs.

So it is our goal to be the platform where you make connections. It can be via the All Habs website, through our Twitter and Facebook accounts, or by sharing opinions on the discussion boards at the Montreal Forum. We also like facilitating face-to-face meetings through Habs Tweetup.

As an American who lived in Montreal for four years, Spencer has a unique perspective. We recently had the opportunity to meet in person at a Habs Tweetup where he provided me with insight into his experience. I’ve asked him to share it with you.

by Spencer Ross, AllHabs.net

NORTHAMPTON, MA. — It all started with the CJAD Dagwood’s Postgame Show…

I was sitting on the subway, taking my then-daily ride into work in midtown Manhattan and listening to the delightful sounds of Rick Moffat and Murray Wilson on podcast, when Rick Moffat plugged Dunn’s Famous Smoked Meat. I thought to myself, “man, how nice would that be right now?” In fact, at the time, I think I tweeted about it, but Twitter was still in its infancy (mid 2008) and there weren’t enough people around to even care. The podcast made me extremely wistful of Montreal and the four years I lived there; these podcasts connected me to the city in a way that only served to amplify the nostalgia.

Fast forward several months later and Twitter started to build itself up rapidly, in time for the 2009 NHL draft in Montreal. A community of Habs fans (and others) started to cohere on Twitter and met at the Montreal entry draft at a tweetup. However, I was still stuck in NYC, having just been hired for a new job.

Fast forward several months later and the Habs community on Twitter had really taken off, particularly as @All_Habs started to put together Habs Tweetups for special events. There were two or three of these Habs Tweetups in particular that I wanted to attend but couldn’t. After being laid off my job, I had been accepted to yet another grad school program at UMass-Amherst in Western Massachusetts. To top it off, I was getting married and had all the responsibilities a groom has in wedding preparations — that is to say, slightly more than none. The program started only two days after my wedding and has been non-stop ever since.

Fast forward several months later and I’m sitting in PK Subban’s section of the Molson Ex Zone at the Bell Centre, 4 years, 11 months since the last time I had sat in nearly the same seat, watching Boom Boom Geoffrion’s number go up the rafters alongside Howie Morenz’s. It was one of my favourite nights to be in the Bell Centre: a Habs-Leafs game for Hockey Night in Canada.

You see, I think some people take for granted living in the city that eats, breathes, sleeps, and prays hockey–even bickers ridiculously on end about the game. But having grown up out of the market but having lived in it for a slice of my life, I gained a greater appreciation of watching the Habs. Actually, the Montreal Canadiens mean something to me that transcends the game itself; the Canadiens represent who I am and how I came to be.

***

It was maybe around 9:15 that morning. My roommates and I had moved into that apartment on the Prince Arthur cobblestone only two weeks earlier, fresh out of McGill’s Molson Hall and ready for second-year, apartment living. One of my roommates came in, woke me up, and turned on my little television. In a sleepy haze, I watched as the second tower was sliced by an airplane. I ultimately got up, got ready, and headed through the McGill campus and downtown as people stood in front of store windows nearly all day long, watching events unfold.

After a couple of months, I finally returned to Connecticut for American Thanksgiving. I couldn’t help but notice the heightened sense of patriotism. More American flags than I had ever previously seen and “God Bless America” at more events than I could count. And yet, I didn’t feel the same sense of emotion stirring inside. After all, I had seen the protests down Ste-Catherine Street, banners waving against the invasion of Afghanistan. I had watched the soothing voice of Peter Mansbridge on The National. America was my home, but Montreal was where I watched it all from.

Over those four years, Montreal became a part of my identity. It informed my worldview and my politik and was where I gained a modicum of adult maturity. It was where I saw the International Fireworks Festival, Jazzfest, Francofolies, and Just For Laughs, where I took the opportunity to take French language immersion up at Université du Québec à Chicoutimi, where I saw Bill Clinton speak at Place-des-Arts, where I skated in the winter at Parc Lafontaine, and where I saw Saku Koivu return from cancer. Beyond just my university education, I was getting an education on life. Through it all though, I was getting an education on what it meant to be a Habs fan. In fact, in one of my Canadian history courses (American almost minoring in Canadian history?!), I penned a course paper on the importance of hockey to Canada and to Québec. I came to Montreal amidst some of the team’s worst seasons, but went out on a high note, just before the NHL went into lockout. I didn’t feel like a foreigner to Canada nor to the Canadiens anymore, but I knew that I would have to return home to the US–for good.

***

And so, it was 4 years, 11 months since I had last been to Montreal–6 ½ years since I had last lived there–and I was walking around my old McGill haunts on Prince Arthur, St Laurent, Ste-Catherine… Even stopped into Schwartz’s to fulfill my years-long smoked meat sandwich craving and a good ol’ Montreal poutine and steamy at La Belle Province (Pommes Frites in NYC is a good try, but something about Montreal makes poutine more special).

This Montreal was different though. This time, I was a nostalgic visitor, but I walked among friends. In some respect, I was making a pilgrimage to where it all started for me as a Habs fan and as an adult. I eased some of the wistfulness as I once again saw the tackiness of Super Sexe and the long lines outside of Peel Pub (which had moved twice since I last lived there). I even got to go to the Canadiens’ Hall of Fame at the Bell Centre. Most of all though, I remembered what it was like to be present in Montreal when the Toronto Maple Leafs came to town.

I remembered the obnoxiousness I felt from the roaming Torontonians and how I bristled at the Blue and White. I remembered the feeling of knowing there was a Hockey Night in Canada double header. I remembered the spirit of the city and the ties of the Bleu, Blanc, et Rouge uniting the hometown in common. And even though I made the journey alone as my classmate sidekick was impromptu forced to cancel his plans to join me, I was never alone at all. However, without Twitter, my trip might not have been the same, if at all.

To start, my more than gracious host, @amanada11 accompanied me for many of what may have seemed like insignificant pit stops, as well as to the main event itself. We got to “battle” Leafs fans with our “Go Habs Go” chants and watch as the Leafs fan couple next to us hung their heads in shame after losing a bet wherein they would have to wear a Habs jersey back to their hotel. I’m sure this wasn’t the only bet that was lost in Montreal that night on the back of a 3-0 Habs shutout.

After the game, we headed over Maclean’s Pub, where a Habs Tweetup was arranged and I was able to meet several of the faces I had spent the better part of two years chatting back and forth with on Twitter. Although I missed meeting several people while I was at the game, it was good to put names and faces on the Habs community at large. These weren’t just handles on a computer screen–they were real people with whom I talked about my Canadiens on a regular basis, 400km away. These were real people who connect me daily to life in Canada and in Montreal. In another era, this wouldn’t have been possible. But it is, and I’m grateful to the All Habs crew for making that happen.

The fact is, my life has changed in so many ways, not only from the time that I lived in Montreal, but from the time I last visited the city. I’ve relocated twice, am married now, and am in my second graduate program. I’ve grown and matured in different ways from that stage of my life, but I forever look fondly in my time spent in la belle ville.

Montreal is forever in my heart. And for one weekend in February, I was able to turn off the podcast–turn off Twitter–and live the Montreal life that I am.