It's the night of June 12, 2019 — Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Playoff Finals between the Boston Bruins and the St. Louis Blues. The Waiting Room in St. Ann is filled with hockey fans sporting their finest Blues regalia, crowded around the bar's lone flatscreen TV. Though our boys have held the lead throughout the night (thanks in no small part to that dreamboat Jordan Binnington's spot-on impression of a brick wall), the mood is tense. The diehard Blues fans here have been around the block a few times, and they know that any manner of heartbreak is still possible. They know the Blues have never won the Stanley Cup in their entire 52 years as an organization. Put plainly, they know that it ain't over until it is over. But the moment the timer counts down to zero, the bar suddenly erupts in complete pandemonium. Grown men weep openly; couples mash the softer, wetter parts of their faces together in celebration. The bartender announces that "it's dinner at the dick house, and we're serving up spoonfuls of shit!" — a common if rather odd rallying cry among this particular cohort of hockey fans — while ringing a brass bell behind the bar. Overtaken by the celebration, he then jumps up and stands on the bar for which he is responsible and loudly declares, "THERE ARE NO RULES!" as patrons slam down celebratory shots. The screaming is near-endless. It's a scene that played out at locations across the whole St. Louis area as our hometown team went from dead last in the league to world champions under the watchful eye of coach Craig Berube — and for one night, all of St. Louis was united. We have the Blues, St. Louis' best sports team, to thank for it. Now only one objective remains: We must protect the Cup, from 2020 to infinity. Let's go Blues!