Twenty Years with Stanley: May 25, 1991 – May 25, 2011

As a kid, you dream of things that may come to matter less when you get older. Some say you grow up, others say that you change perspective. Maybe it is a little of both. My brother had a friend who used to say, “I still got a little kid left in me,” and I never really knew what he meant. I heard it as a verbal conundrum. Was he saying that he was still a little boy, in that he refused to grow up and hoped to remain the proverbial toys-are-us kind of kid? Or, was he suggesting that he hoped to always maintain a bit of kid (as in a “little” amount) within his personality. That way, he would mature but still enjoy the things that make us remember being a kid. I never asked him and maybe will one day. It suggests, however, that each of us should hold onto some strand of what mattered when we were little.

One thing I really wanted as a kid was to be a baseball player. That fell to the wayside when I realized I couldn’t hit a curveball or throw one or even recognize one as a broadcaster. Another thing I wanted was to be a rock star. Not happening! Have you heard me sing? My music skills are even worse. Still, one thing I wanted had nothing to do with my career or my hopes or may lack of talent. Rather, it had to do with being a sports fan.

I was one of the few kids in my Pittsburgh neighborhood who liked hockey. This was before the Mario Lemieux era hit Pittsburgh, the short four year span between the U.S. Hockey Gold Metal at the 1980 Olympics that has inspired talk of miracles, and the day in 1984 when the Pittsburgh Penguins were saved as then-General manager Eddie Johnston announced they had drafted “le nombre soixante-six” or, number sixty-six, known throughout Pittsburgh ever since simply as Mario. Other kids still watched the Lakers and the Celtics or the Steelers and Cowboys. Ever since Mike Eruzione and Lake Placid, I was interested in Maple Leafs, Bruins and Penguins.

Years roll by and by as we age, but as Tom Petty said, “The waiting is the hardest part.” Being a young hockey fan in the 1980s was torturous. The Penguins almost eliminated the defending champion Islanders in 1982, and then made only one play-off appearance in 1989. Throughout my early hockey fandom, they kept losing early in the elimination tournament that is the play-offs. The dream I had and my brother shared was a Stanley Cup Championship. Our goals were simple. We wanted the Penguins to win!

The hockey years tumbled along with the awkward teenage years and I kept hoping for the Penguins to win the Stanley Cup, which for those not in the know, is the trophy given to the hockey champion from the National Hockey League (NHL). The league really should be called the North American Hockey League because Canada is heavily represented. Regardless, I wanted to see the Penguins win The Cup. It seemed they never would. Living through seasons from 1980 through 1990 seemed to be a lot longer than a decade, and much, much longer than the two decades since.

I have long said that every true sports fan deserves to see the team they root for win a championship. It is just that much fun. It is a thrill-ride, it is exciting, it is the fulfillment of the euphoria that makes us fans. I have also said that if you are going to be a fan, you might as well have fun. So, I take this crazy sports fan thing to the level of passion. Who knows why? It has probably been a lot of energy spent that could have been directed toward better projects. Hey, it is what it is and it was fun hoping the Penguins would win. And they finally did so in 1991, twenty years ago this very day.

On May 25, 1991, after a brutal and amazing season, the Pittsburgh Penguins won the elusive Stanley Cup to claim their first NHL Championship. And I had finally realized one of my wishes. At the celebration event, the gritty Phil Bourque raised The Cup above his shoulders and said to us fans, “What do you say we take this thing down to the river and party all summer?!” I had just turned twenty-one and was not a drinker, but I celebrated all summer and fondly recall that year to this day. You have to understand how much this meant to me then. I was dating a girl for what became my first serious and mature relationship. One of the first tings I told her was, “Listen, I think it is important we spend time together, but if the Penguins ever make a run to the Stanley Cup, I will be in front of the television almost every night watching games.” When it happened, she got mad and broke up with me. I walked away clean. I had warned her!

The Penguins have gone on to win two more Stanley Cups in 1992 and 2009, but as they say, the first time is always special. I have also gone on to do a lot of things in the 20 years since. Through so many moves I can no longer count, getting married, having three kids, buying a house, changing jobs several times, going back to school twice and owning ten different cars, it is the night that I blew a fuse for the horn in my first car that I remember most clearly. Sitting on Route 51 in a 1983 Chevy Chevette, cheering with strangers, blaring the horn en route to the airport to welcome our hockey heroes back from Minneapolis with the cargo bay heavier by thirty-four and one-half pounds of hockey glory, I laid on that horn ceaselessly. I was celebrating – fuse be damned!

Hopes, memories, being a kid, being young, being a sports fan. It all mattered then and it still matters today. The Beatles sang, “It was twenty years ago today, Sergeant Pepper taught the band to play.” We Penguins fans can now and forever know that our favorite team won The Stanley Cup, and as of May 25, 2011, it was twenty years ago today…