Julien far from a clod

I was guilty of calling you “Grady Julien.’’ It has a nice ring to it, and after what happened in the playoffs last year, and the year before, it seemed to be a pretty good fit.

When you were hired we all just thought maybe you were Peter Chiarelli’s cousin. Like the general manager, you were a little dull and conservative. You never said anything flamboyant or controversial. You were always a stay-the-course, even-keel guy. The most outrageous thing we ever saw from you was that nifty, Bogart-like lid you wore during the Winter Classic. By Claude Julien standards, that was practically a lampshade on your head.

Your feet were in the fire throughout this season and in the early rounds of the playoffs. When you lost those first two games at home against the Canadiens, we figured you were toast. You were going the way of Rick Bowness and Brian Sutter and Robbie Ftorek and Dave Lewis. Another Bruins coach ground up and spit out.

There must have been a reason Lou Lamoriello dumped you moments before the Devils went into the playoffs in 2007. That one must have hurt. Seventy-nine games, a first-place standing, and they replaced you. Ouch.

We know so much about the other Boston coaches and their families. We follow the high school and college careers of Doc Rivers’s kids. We know Doc commutes from Orlando, Fla. Terry Francona’s son, Nick, was always around the clubhouse. He pitched at Penn and now he’s serving our country. Tito and his wife have a big charity event tomorrow. We mourned for Bill Belichick when he delivered the eulogy for his dad at the Naval Academy. We’ve seen Bill and his new lady friend on the Jumbotron.

What about you, Claude? The press guide says you have a wife, Karen, and a daughter Katryna Chanel. Sorry we never asked about them.

Your conservative coaching sometimes drove us crazy. We all wanted to see more of Tyler Seguin. You kept him on the bench. You made him a healthy scratch for the first 11 games of the playoffs. You only brought him back because guys got hurt. But you wouldn’t put him on the power play. You limited his minutes.

You loved the veteran players. Experience means so much to you. You were like the high school coach who always played the seniors.

You kept your cool. You kept your dignity. You were firm but measured.