The Boston Bruins won the Stanley Cup. Congratulations. I watched the end to see the prize, and then, there it was, The Stanley Cup. All shiny and bigger than life being hauled around the ice by burly men. The guys went bananas hoisting it high over their heads and I was thrilled for them. At the same moment, it was like a time warp back to the night I saw Stanley live and in person.
That’s right. I got face time with Stanley, yes, THE Stanley Cup one night, years ago. I was one a date with uh, what’s his name?… I forget. Anyway, it was your basic date, dinner out, talk that was meant to impress and so on. Later, we went back to his place to meet some of his friends.
I think a couple of the guys were a part of the security detail for Stanley, as it was visiting our town. His friends and roommates it turned out had um, well, taken the cup from it’s overnight resting place so they could bring it to this crap apartment in downtown ____________. The wooping and male bonding that went on was loud as they phoned East coast relatives in the middle of the night to holler down the line, “MOM, I’m sitting here with the Stanley Cup!” “WOOOOOO!” Pictures were taken, grins couldn’t have gotten bigger.
Then they poured the only beer they had handy into the cup and took turns drinking out of it. I was offered the chance to drink from it and have my picture taken. I could only stand there in shock. After a few minutes, I took a closer look, examining the names engraved all over the cup. Wow. History in my hands. Suddenly it occurred to me to get the heck out of here before the police arrived. I said goodnight and exited. The Cup was where it was supposed to be the next day, as far as I knew. If it was missing or arrived anywhere late, it was not reported. Even if I can’t quite remember much else about the date, I’ll never forget Stanley.
Enjoy him Boston, he’s a beauty.