I was sprawled on my couch in my sweatpants on Thursday night, intently watching the hockey game. 

Then the Canadiens’ Nick Suzuki scored, a huge goal making it 5-3, and I leapt to my feet in joy, screaming: 

“We did it! We did it again! WE scored!” 

Note the word “WE” — not “they.”

Like fans all over the city, I felt I was somehow part of that crucial goal, although I couldn’t say exactly how.

My elation and pride at that moment was so intense you’d think I had laced up my skates, played three periods and gotten an assist on the goal.

In reality, I’d been flat on my back all night munching potato chips. My only exercise had been muting the volume button during commercials.

Also: flicking from French to English coverage to make sure the Canadiens were winning in both.

Yet when our team eventually won, I felt I had won, too, that the players’ victory was somehow my victory.

This delusion should make me sound certifiably insane. Yet in hockey-mad Montreal, it’s perfectly normal these days.

Walk downtown and you’d think the city had a citizens’ uniform code, like China once did for Mao caps.

But our city uniform is a red jersey with the letters CH, worn by every second person on Ste-Catherine St.

Students, lawyers, doctors, accountants who haven’t exercised since high school gym class — all wear our team........

© Montreal Gazette