Charlie in Charge

About 400 season ticket holders have filed into the TD Banknorth Garden for tonight’s Bruins town hall meeting. Though it’s August, and an oppressive humidity is steam-cleaning the entire city, some wear black jeans and heavy Bruins jerseys. They’re the kind of people who played street hockey as children and grew their hair shaggy like Phil Esposito. For most franchises, these sorts of team-sponsored gatherings are mere grip-and-grin sessions, a way for fans to feel good about the money they willingly hand over for the privilege of attending games. That’s not how it works here, though. Not with this team. Not the way things have been going.

Nearly five months earlier, the team had finished the season with the third worst record in the Eastern Conference. In an effort to get the evening off on a happier note, the fans tonight are treated to free popcorn and soda and pretzels, as well as the opportunity to hear from some of the franchise’s most influential people. Seated on a stage facing the crowd are players Marc Savard and Zdeno Chara, general manager Peter Chiarelli, and 36-year-old Charlie Jacobs, who runs the team. They are joined by everyone’s favorite former Bruin, Cam Neely. (Every time Neely speaks, the fans practically clap their hands raw. “Must be nice to be Cam Neely,” Jacobs will tell me later. “Everywhere you go, people give you a standing ovation.”)

The panel collectively promises that the Bruins will play harder during the upcoming season than they did the year before. But the fans are in no mood to listen. Back in the early ’70s, when the team was in the process of winning two championships in three years, the Bruins owned Boston. But since Charlie’s father, Jeremy Jacobs, bought the team 33 years ago, the Bruins haven’t won a single Stanley Cup. And lately they’ve been awful, especially after trading fan favorite Joe Thornton to the San Jose Sharks, where he went on to be named the NHL’s most valuable player. Meanwhile, the success of the Red Sox and Patriots, along with the excitement the Celtics have rekindled by bringing in superstar Kevin Garnett, has made it increasingly difficult for the Bruins to grab headlines. Or paying customers. Kevin Paul Dupont, the Globe’s outstanding hockey writer, recently revealed how truly grim things have gotten on Causeway Street after two consecutive last-place finishes: According to his mole, the Bruins’ season ticket base has fallen to approximately 4,000 (in a building that holds 17,565 for hockey), a number so low that under NHL expansion standards, it would disqualify the city from being awarded a franchise, were it trying to start a team today.

And yet the fans here tonight still care enough to shell out to attend games. And along with their tickets, they’ve paid for the right to bitch. So when it comes time for the Q&A session, that’s what they do. One after the other, they eagerly body-check the organization the way their favorite goons might have done decades ago when their team was still the Big Bad Bruins. Nostalgia, it turns out, just might be the Bruins’ toughest opponent these days. Several fans rise to wax poetic about yesteryear. One even says he prefers to watch reruns of classic Bruins games rather than the current incarnation. Afterward, Savard will shake his head in amazement and say, “That was kind of intense, eh? I looked at their faces and thought, Jesus, we might need some people to hold them back.” In the moment, though, everyone on stage remains calm and poised. Well, just about everyone.

Charlie Jacobs seems uncomfortable. His arms stay folded as he listens to the criticism, and because he’s a skinny guy, he looks almost invisible at times. For much of the evening he says little, choosing to let Chiarelli field many of the questions. When he does address the assembly, his style is awkward. He’s polite, but he doesn’t open his mouth much when he talks. He looks wooden as the words escape from a thin slit between his teeth, as though he’s doing the dummy part of a ventriloquist act. Still, Jacobs acquits himself nicely for most of the session by merely sitting there. Why further antagonize faithful customers? When your job is to defend the indefensible, to appease the few supporters you have left, the best strategy is to simply absorb the blows.

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