I often think of the etymology of the word "fan" when I think of the Montreal Canadiens. It is no coincidence to me that the word has evolved from the negative "fanatic". In its former context a fanatic was a bit crazy and irrational. The modern day evolution of the word is much more positive indicating support, but I am forced to wonder at times why the fans here are not more behind their team.

The best of fans, the worst of fans

Being a fan is a two sided coin. To the owner of the Habs, the team has the best fans in hockey: They pay hundreds to enter the building, $25 for parking, just as much for a beer and a snack, and are dressed in $200 jerseys. As far as memorabilia sold goes, from key fobs to licence plates to flags, it isn't even a competition. There will be more Habs' jerseys on in Buffalo's arena tonight than there will be Sabres' jerseys. However, the other side of the coin is not so pretty. To the players of the Habs, the team does not have the best fans in hockey.

It was Chris Higgins who has been most honest with the media over the years in an open way discussing his love/hate relationship with the Montreal fan. At the conclusion of the playoff series with Boston last season, the fans booed the Habs off the ice for getting swept, and the players responded by standing in the middle of the ice saluting the fans as if oblivious to the anger being rained down on them. I later asked Higgins "what did you think of the fans tonight?" His answer will stay with me for a long time:

"Apart from the fact that they were throwing full and capped water bottles at our heads, they were pretty good."

Thick irony. Thicker disgust.

Love/Hate

Many players over the years have worded this same confusion that they could be so loved and so hated at the same time. Higgins is one of the few who has stated so on the record. The off-the-record list, I am compelled to say, is a long one.

History has often times shown that fans' fanaticism has not always brought out the best in Montrealers. The Richard riots of the 50s are an obvious example, but to a lesser degree Patrick Roy throwing up his arms in a game against Detroit early in a regular season on a Saturday night leading to his leaving the organization and winning Stanley Cups somewhere else is also not a shining moment. Add to it that history has not recorded the final outcome to what Carey Price throwing up his hands in disgust at getting booed for allowing four goals that no one else would have stopped either will mean to his career here. Price is learning that the fan's doghouse here is a cold place.

Passion

With all of those moments causing such negativity and even damage to the city, I must also not be blind to the remarkable passion of the Habs' fan. That passion can transform a city and a province and leave the uninitiated with a dropped jaw at how much the Habs and hockey are loved in this part of the world. That love doesn't just bring joy for a goal celebration, but it even unites two solitudes of people into one, provides endless hours of conversation for people who may have had nothing to share with one another, and even borders on being a religious experience.

If you hop in a cab for twenty minutes heading home from the airport, you can make a new friend assessing whether Plekanec can have a good playoff this year. Don't know how to break the ice with your new neighbor? Here's a suggestion -- ask them which goalie will be back next season. And in Montreal, if you don't have a passion for the Habs, guaranteed you have an opinion about even that, because for the few who don't get this crazy love, they are so inundated with it, they too will talk your ear off about their confusion: "Why does everyone love this hockey team so much here? Why don't they get a life?" Truth is in many cases, they have a life, and it is the Habs.

Randy Tieman likes to tell me when hosting his radio show at the Team 990 that he can't get people to talk about anything else. He has to get someone to screen callers to say that it's a football segment or a baseball segment, and it usually fizzles, so he goes back to a passionate discussion about the Habs, after his futile attempt at diversifying. Once back on the Habs, the phone lines light up.

Poo-poo to the boo-birds

In the end I guess what I am appealing to here, as I have many times, is when the team is down by one goal as they were to Ottawa on Monday night and the powerplay is having trouble getting possession in the Senators' zone, don't boo.

I guarantee the players don't get in the zone faster when they are heckled. In fact, the stick tightens, and the pass is hurried, and the opposite happens. The last five minutes of the Senators-Habs game was very frustrating to me. The club was undefeated in seven straight games, overachieving this season by a level that had even the optimistic impressed, fighting for fifth place in the East instead of eleventh, and the boos were thick as they exited the ice in a tight defeat. If I were a player leaving the ice only two nights ago, I think I would have mumbled "thanks for nothing".

Don't forget as well that every summer free agents make decisions about where they want to play, and I can tell you that they take into consideration the fishbowl that is Montreal, and they ask themselves whether they need that scrutiny. They answer with their wallets 95 times out of 100, I will not dispute that, but when the offers are level, Montreal needs to stand out more positively not for the numbers of fans, but also for the behaviour of the fans.

I know what you're going to say: "They pay their money. They can do whatever they want." That can't be argued with on the surface, but underneath it, they pay their money because they love their team. They want that money paid to bring them joy. They will inspire their heroes by cheering them, and in so doing, will release them of an undue pressure and bring more opportunity for all sides to feel more joy: the player, and the fan, and the owner won't lose a dollar either. Cheering and inspiring and motivating is a win-win for all.

And what do I get out of writing all of this? Even more pride than I already feel that no one in this world loves this great sport that I love too more than the great people of my adopted home of Quebec. Don't just look at the numbers of people who fill this building every night, but listen as well to the love in their support whether the team is up by one, down by one, or even on those nights when it just doesn't go right.

Yes, I will boast, these are true fans.