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Legend of the Cup

The Stanley Cup is steeped in history, and not just because it's one of the most revered trophies in all of sports, but because if the stories tied to it. Four Lightning players have had the privilege of hosting - and hoisting - the Cup as a member of a past league champions. Here are their stories.

Tim Taylor took it to a parade.

Darryl Sydor took it to the lake.

Nolan Pratt took it to dinner.

Chris Dingman slept with it. (Nothing happened.)

If the Stanley Cup could see, it would have seen it all. If it had feelings it would know it is truly loved. If it had a frequent flier account, it would never pay for airfare again. If it could swim ... it wouldn't have ended up on the bottom of Mario Lemieux's pool, but that's a different story.

This 36-inch tall, 35-pound silver trophy is a story in an of itself, undoubtedly the most recognizable and loved trophy in sports, an evolving, hard-partying token for those who, for a brief moment, scale the summit in one of the most demanding of sports.

That's why players so covet the roughly 24 hours each gets with the Cup the summer after winning the NHL title. Taylor, Sydor, Pratt and Dingman have all enjoyed that revelry or quiet validation, the satisfaction of showing friends and loved ones the reason they got up before sunrise, started the truck in the freezing, gloomy morning and drove all those hours to practice. They bring it home not to brag on personal accomplishments, but to share it, to say thank you with the most simple and powerful way they can, by laying the Stanely Cup before them.

"The Stanley Cup is the light at the end of the tunnel," said Taylor who won it with Detroit in 1997. "It's why we do this."

* * *

Taylor introduced the Stanley Cup to his grandparents in 1997 the day it and its official escort or "keeper" arrived for his day back home in Stratford, Ont.

The day began with Taylor and its designated handler - called one of the Keepers of the Cup - taking it to his grandparents house, and then to an open house at William Allman Memorial Arena where he played as a boy. A local photographer donated his time and services for $7-a-shot personal photos, with the proceeds donated to local charities.

After a parade through the town of 30,000 on a fire truck, Taylor was surprised to learn his wife, Jodi, had arranged a party and bon fire, with guests including all his former youth coaches and many old teammates.

"It's a pretty unique thing," said Taylor, who won the Cup with Detroit. "It's something you dream about, being able to share it with all the people that meant a lot to you along the way."

As the party swelled, the keeper remained vigilant and sober in a blue Hockey Hall of Fame jacket and white formal gloves for handling the Cup.

"At the bon fire he was right next to it and he was asking people to step back," Taylor said. "He was pretty keen on making sure that nothing crazy goes on with it. He was right beside it at all times."

Mike Bolt has a job to do, but he tries to let the boys have some fun. They've worked pretty hard for this, after all, he said. As one of two keepers who escort the Cup on the road more than 300 days a year, he is responsible for the safety of a priceless trophy that seemingly everyone wants to touch, kiss or photograph.

"The bottom line is our job is to keep the Cup safe," said Bolt, who has had his job for five years. "Our job is to keep it together for another 100 years."

The formality of the keeper is often in sharp contrast with the debauchery going on around the Cup.

"The guy is pretty cool," said Dingman, who won the Cup in 2001 with Colorado. "He has the jacket and the gloves, and I remember I told him it's not a formal party, but he had to hold it with the gloves. I had to laugh because I look over and one of my buddies is getting a picture taken and he has the gloves and the jacket on.

"They're pretty good guys. Whatever you want to do with it, basically he said to all my friends whatever I said was cool, it's your game."

The player has the final call on what the Cup does, Bolt said, as long as they "keep it respectful."

"If a player wants to let someone hoist it, they've earned that right, so it's okay," he said.

So is drinking beer, soda or champagne from its top, like Pam Anderson did in 2002 when then-boyfriend Kid Rock threw a party for his Detroit Red Wings. So is letting small children eat their morning cereal out it. In 1940 Toronto's Red Kelly put his infant son, Conn, in the Cup for a photograph. Conn confused it with another bowl and filled it up.

In 1996, the Avalanche's Sylvain Lefebvre had his first daughter baptized in it.

Amazingly, no one has gotten a staph infection out of it because a thorough cleaning - including taking it apart and replacing the base - and polish is performed three times a year.

And then sometimes it gets an unscheduled bath. It's ended up at the bottom of Lemieux's and Patrick Roy's pools, and it would have settled on the bottom of Ottawa's Rideau Canal in 1905 when Ottawa Silver Seven captain Harry Smith kicked it off a bridge in a victory celebration. Luckily the canal was frozen, and coach Alf Smith fetched it the next morning.

That's a little extreme, even for Dingman, who rented a hall at home in Edmonton, hired a live band and hosted a large party that lasted until early in the morning. Then he and his close friends continued the party at his house. Everyone got to sip a toast out of the Cup.

"A lot of Canadian beers," he said, smiling. "Some Coors Light and some Labatt's and Labatt Blue, but we had to get our Molson Canadians in there, too."

Dingman slept off the night with the Cup in his bed.

"I took a shower, showered it out, and away it went," he said.

The legend of the Stanley Cup was set in motion in 1892, when Frederick Arthur, Lord Stanley of Preston, the Governor-General of Canada announced he was donating a cup for the national champion to hold, to have the names of the members of the team engraved on the side of what was then just a silver cup.

By the time Ottawa won the Cup in 1909, the entire interior and exterior of the bowl had been fully filled with engravings of past champion's team names and their players, so rings were eventually added below the silver cup to retain the names in perpetuity.

After a few alterations were made to keep the growing trophy from becoming ungainly, the basic look has not changed in 42 years. To keep the trophy from growing larger when bands are filled up with champions, the top ring is removed, flattened and mounted in the Hall of Fame in Toronto. There is room for one more team on the bottom ring.

A player, therefore, can expect to have his name hoisted above the head of the new champion for about 50 years, if teams limit themselves to the proper space. The 1964-65 Montreal Canadiens threw the system off a bit when they took up too much space.

They need not be so piggish. The Canadiens have won 10 more since, 24 overall.

* * *

Pratt was just happy to be involved in the Avs' second Cup. Now a Lightning defenseman and member of the 2001 Stanley Cup champion Avalanche, he has heard all the wild stories about the players' time with the Cup. His day, actually closer to 36 hours, was pretty low key, befitting a steady, stay-at-home defenseman.

"My parents live about 40 minutes outside Edmonton on a few acres of land, so we started off there with a barbecue with just immediate family and a few friends," Pratt said. "We spent the afternoon there and took some photos, family stuff.

"Then we went downtown on the main strip in Edmonton and had dinner up there on a balcony and put the Cup up there so the people walking by could see."

Pratt and his family visited a few nightclubs, Cup in tow, and Pratt remembers being impressed that his parents, in their 50s, lasted the whole night.

The alarm clock rang at 6 a.m., and Pratt and the Cup were off to the hometown golf course for 18 holes. The Cup rode in the cart with Pratt. On some holes, the keeper stood with it on the green as Pratt and his friends hit their approach shots.

"He stood there just in case one of us came too close," Pratt said. "We had two or three groups and he would do that for every group."

That afternoon, Pratt caught a flight out of town, and so did the Cup.

* * *

A player's day with the Cup is a personal thing. Younger players tend to be a bit more adventurous with the famous trophy, assuming they'll be more formal when they win it again. Much depends on the personality. Before spending some personal time with the Cup at his lakefront cottage in Kamloops, B.C., Sydor took advantage of one of the more amazing powers of the Cup, it's ability to make people smile.

"We took it to a local hospital and did a little charity thing, did some stuff for some kids," said Sydor, who won the Cup with Dallas in 1999. "Then a little open house at the local rink."

Bolt cannot count the number of hospitals he's visited. He's seen sick children that were not going to recover and wished every time he could do something about it. The only thing he could do was lay the Cup on a table in front of the children. At least it made the moment better.

"The smiles it brings, especially to sick kids is amazing," Bolt said. "If you can make a kid forget he is sick for 10 minutes, that's rewarding. I've gone into hospitals where there is only one or two kids and they nurses will say, "Oh, we're sorry, we've only got a couple of kids here.' And I just have to tell them "Great,' because you never want to see a hospital full."

* * *

For the half century, young boys from Halifax to Victoria will trace little fingers across the shiny but scratched surface of the Cup, watching their eyes widen in amazement as they follow the engraving of a favorite player.

Maybe they'll press their fingertips over the name that recalls a memory of a legendary Game 7 win in the 2004 final.

Brad Richards ... Martin St.Louis ... I remember them.

Everybody will remember them.

"That's why people love this Cup so much," Bolt said. "It's the same Cup that Gretzky and Gordie Howe and Guy LaFleur and Bobby Clarke took and hoisted over their head. It's a living piece of history."

It's within reach.