When the puck dropped and the roar of 21,000 fans hit them like a tidal wave, his father didn't look 70 anymore. He looked like a kid again, leaning over the rail, ready for the next chapter of the legend.

The Montreal winter didn’t just bite; it chewed. But for Leo, the freezing wind whipping down Avenue des Canadiens-de-Montréal felt like a tropical breeze. In his pocket, he clutched a pair of envelopes that felt heavier than gold.

His dad, a man who could recount Maurice Richard’s goals like they were family history, hadn't been to the Bell Centre since the Forum closed. "Too expensive now, Leo," he’d always say, waving a hand at the TV. "The atmosphere's in the heart, not the arena." Leo knew better.

"You spent too much," his dad whispered, his eyes suspiciously glossy.

"I didn't buy tickets, Dad," Leo grinned, pulling his jersey over his head. "I bought us a Saturday night in Montreal."

For three months, Leo had lived on instant noodles and walked to work to save every cent. His goal was singular: . Not just any tickets, but two seats for the Saturday night matchup against the Bruins—his father’s 70th birthday present.

Are you looking to to someone special, or are you planning a group outing for yourself?

When Saturday arrived, the air inside the Bell Centre was electric, humming with the "Go Habs Go" chant that seemed to vibrate in the very floorboards. As they reached Section 112, his father stopped dead. He looked at the retired jerseys hanging from the rafters, then at the pristine sheet of ice, and finally at his son.