Away in Tampa I was there in the cheap seats when the man with Boston on his back tackled the giant bug. A shaded skyline that enfolded his shoulders, revealed when he frenzied his shirt over his head after Nathan Horton scored in the second—the Ontarian dispatching the puck so absolutely the net was compelled to take it in. As if to make something belong, you hack hard as you can. From the terrace level I cheered too—not for the goal but to make myself known. Displaced New Englanders never stop needing to tell you where they’re from. The bug was from Tampa—a woman named Kelly in a 10-foot foam exoskeleton who silly-stringed a man when his team was down and away from home. So fervent for a city he needled it under his skin. As security walked him out, he spiked a finger in her face—not Kelly’s but the bug’s, with the unwatching eyes—and snarled as the crowd cheered his ejection. Hockey gets violent. Players brawl.…