Maurice Richard chipped his teeth on it, Patrick Roy threw it in his pool and Sidney Crosby played street hockey for it.
The Stanley Cup has fed Kentucky Derby winners, been drop-kicked onto a frozen canal and forgotten by the side of the road. It’s seen every corner of North America, and more than a few corners of the rest of the world. It’s logged unbelievable mileage and even more unbelievable stories.
It is the greatest trophy in sports.
For the players, the Cup is a lifetime of hockey manifest. They afford it the respect of a friend and the passion of a lover. Like the season it culminates, Lord Stanley’s Mug balances the champagne swigging with the trench digging, visiting hospitals, and military bases as well as night clubs and private parties.
But for the next 24 hours, the Stanley Cup is (fictionally) mine.