Mr. Speaker, tonight, millions of us will be glued to our TV sets, jumping to our feet like our parents before us, proud of our team like our grandparents before us, confident that the greatest dynasty in hockey history is still capable of working its magic.
We will see Maurice Richard in Gallagher's determination, Patrick Roy in the genius of Price, Béliveau in our captain Weber, Charbonneau in Danault's stick handling, Lafleur in Caufield's shots, Doug Harvey in Petry's game, and Claude Lemieux in the risks taken by “KK” and Suzuki. All the ghosts of the Montreal Canadiens will be in our team's locker room. Believe me when I say that millions of us Quebeckers will be on the ice with the Habs.
It is game seven, the Canadiens are being overlooked, and that is when they are the most dangerous. Here are three words that might sound very English, but, believe me, there are no three words more quintessentially Quebecker than these, when every Quebecker screams them at the top of their lungs tonight: Go, Habs, go!