Such a hard-luck story befell the Crimson last night, with junior defenseman Geb Marett pulling his groin and dressing up in street clothes after the first stanza.

But even Marett supported the idea of the consolation game.

"In terms of pride, it's nice to get another chance to win a game in the tournament," he said.

On leaving the stadium, making my way through the throngs of fans arriving for the final, I was asked at least twice for a ticket stub.

When I left the Garden, I was warned twice by a security guard that I couldn't re-enter the building. You shoulda seen the look on his face when I assured him that yes, we were leaving before the final.

It seemed that the consolation game was just a matter of going through the motions, fulfilling some edict from the hockey gods laid down long ago.

But after all, it was a last chance to play on the ice of the Boston Garden, a building soon to be turned into a heap of rubble by a wrecker's ball.

Ever seen that Rold Gold commercial when Jason Alexander (of Seinfeld fame) plays goalie in a dream?

Playing on the Garden ice is like that, an opportunity few of us ever get to savor.

"It's a place shrouded in tradition," Karmanos said. "It's a fun place to play hockey."

Tomassoni, on the other hand, didn't seem to mind the Garden's demise.

"I can hardly wait for the new one," he said. "I'm not going to miss this place."

For me, however, a Beanpot consolation is no way to say good-bye to the Garden.

Last night just didn't have the feel of a true college hockey game.