The Road to the Cup

You've heard it all before:  to get to the Stanley Cup you need to win 16 games, but every champion's road, despite this similarity, is a little different.

My family's road to the Cup was memorable, to say the least.

We had the good fortune that our trip to Pennsylvania for Easter coincided with the Heinz History Center hosting the Stanley Cup and various other hockey trophies.  How's that for timing?

Since it would only be on display for a limited time, we couldn't turn down this opportunity.  Normally, I might not bring my then two and six year-old to a museum event that started so late and which might include a long wait; all I could think, though, was someday when they were older, they might ask why we hadn't taken them too.  My brother Evan came along; nothing would let him miss this chance either.

The wait, of course, was incredible.  For a substantial part of it, we weren't even inside the building.  Once inside, the line snaked back and forth through the lobby area.

The Heinz History Center has an interior marked by exposed steel beams and brick.  Clear panels hung between those columns tease you by giving you a preview of what's inside, before you've even paid your admission.

What they might not have thought of, though, in the placement of those panels, was that a two year-old that's been waiting fairly patiently for hours to get in might squeeze through into the museum, where its parents couldn't get to it.

And then, said toddler might climb into a World War II Jeep on display, even though it's been roped off.

Oh, the looks that child's parents got!  Thank goodness Gregory could fit through that same hole!

Once finally admitted, the queue wound further through the museum.  We opted not to explore the other sights, but to keep our eye on the prize.  It led past the other trophies with their cue cards pointing out the Penguins winners.  Gregory even posed in front of them, either trying to look like he was modelling the trophies, or trying to make the illusion that he was holding them.

And then finally, without ceremony, we arrived at the Cup.

We gathered around.  They were arranging us so quickly for our group photograph that we barely could appreciate its silvery sheen.  Thinking back, I remember heat, from the people, from the lights, from the pride of being there, from the reflection of it's polished surface--shiny despite being touched all day and all night.

Alas, Lord Stanley's Cup!


(This is our Road to the Cup, but the story won't end there.  Stay tuned for The Road from the Cup, which is yet to come.)