Demosthenes Spiropoulos

Smells Like Silver

October 2, 2017 - Volume 3, Issue 9

Editor's Note: with the new hockey season starting in the next couple of days, and my TWO-TIME defending Stanley Cup Champion Pittsburgh Penguins looking to go for three in a row, I figured this would be a good time to reprint a blog post from 10 years ago (I may have made some small edits and updates), when I got to see the Holy Grail of Hockey. Enjoy!

So there I am, sitting in the office one day, minding my own business. Then out of the blue, like a melodious fog horn cutting through a thick soup of a fog, Bob Tucker (my boss's boss), rolls into the office and proclaims, "Hey everybody, I've got the Stanley Cup."


Practically leaping over the half wall that cleaves our office in twain, I run to the scene. Bob, along with the Keeper of the Cup (I think his name is Mike?), have just left the Stanley Cup on a desk. Just sitting there. All by itself.

As everyone on my Ninja Strike Team crowd around to have a photo taken, a prime spot is open next to the Cup, which is promptly filled by my fat ass. Some more photos are snapped. I ask if I can touch it, and the Cup Guardian Guy says, "Sure." If you notice in the picture, Lord Stanley and I are sharing a warm embrace.

Ninja Strike Team and the Cup

I take a deep breath from the Cup. Smells like silver. Smells like history. Smells like all that is right in the world. (ok, that last one may be a little melodramatic, but I don't care)

Sure, I could go into detail on how it really came into my presence, but why ruin the mystery... Editor's Note: actually, let's do that now. The Anaheim Ducks had just won the Stanley Cup, and a player (whose name eludes me) came to the castle with the Cup. There was a very long line to see it and a short window of time to take a picture with it. I knew I wouldn't be able to make the line. Partially resigned to not being able to get a photo with it, I took solace in the fact that it was there, a mere 10 yards away. That was good enough for me. I had gone back to my desk, and shortly thereafter, Bob rolls in.

Michelle got to carry the Stanley Cup on the elevator ride up; check out Cup Guardian Guy with the white glove treatment.

Cup Guardian Guy

Apparently, the Cup made its way to our floor because there was a photo shoot set up for a few of the executives with the Cup. Guess who walked his way into that. My pose proved to the best of the bunch.

Wacky Greek Boy and the Cup

And for your infortainment, some fun facts about Lord Stanley's silverware.
  • The two places it is not allowed is in strip clubs and casinos.
  • You might know that each player gets it for 24 hours, but along with the Stanley Cup, the Cup Guardian Guy comes along, too. If he's got to crash on your couch, so be it.
  • Winners have their names inscribed on the Stanley Cup in September right before the start of the new season.
  • And if you're aren't as lucky as I, you can see the Cup for yourself at the Hockey Hall of Fame in Toronto (which I have been to... sorta. We only got as far as the Gift Shop before the whole thing closed on us).

    And one more picture, because I'm a dork...

    I'm awesome!

    Hockey rules!

    Editor's Note: there is a hockey superstition that you are not supposed to touch the Stanley Cup or else your team will never win it. I can confirm that myth is busted. Obviously, I was draped all over it and since then, my Penguins have won the Cup THREE times. Oh, and my Los Angeles Kings have won it TWO times. Granted, my Ducks... not so much. Yes, I like three NHL teams, and I keep an occasional eye on the Buffalo Sabres because that's my mother-in-law's team, and we know better than to call when the Sabres are losing.

  • Thanks for visiting. Love, Demosthenes Spiropoulos