I love a parade
The week of June 14 was a really busy one for our family.
On Monday morning I was rushing around the apartment, finishing our packing for our summer trip home. At the same time, we were listening to Game 6 of the Stanley Cup Finals, hoping for a Penguins victory over the Nashville Predators.
And it happened! For the second year in a row, the Pittsburgh Penguins won the Stanley Cup!
Soon after the game was finished, we were in the car, headed to the airport to arrive in Pittsburgh very late that Monday night. By Friday, we would be back at the Pittsburgh airport, traveling to Berlin for a week while Randy was attending a trade show.
Our week was already running on a tight schedule. As much fun as we had last year at the Penguins victory parade, I didn't imagine we would get to repeat that experience this year.
The Penguins were also under time constraints. Sometime during our layover in Chicago the hockey club announced the victory parade for Wednesday. That was a day that we could actually manage.
I always feel like I need to justify our attending these kinds of events. That is when I turn to Nick Hornby, who wrote this in Fever Pitch, which is close to how I feel:
Our jet lag even worked in our favor. We knew we wanted to be in a better position this year, and getting up early and taking the bus into Downtown was not so great a challenge.
Some people had gotten there much earlier than we did, and they were prepared for the hours of waiting.
I was surprised that we could get such prime spot so close to 8 am. Fortunately there was a Starbucks nearby, so Randy and I could take turns minding the space, buying drinks and snacks, and escorting kids to the bathroom.
Last year Brigid caught only a glimpse of her hockey hero, Amanda Kessel. This year she was ready to get a better view.
We waited hours for the parade to reach our spot. But once it did, it was wonderful mayhem!
Jeff Jimmerson, the Penguins' National Anthem singer, had his own truck. He has quite the following in Pittsburgh. I really like that about the Penguins organization--they recognize every member's contribution to the Stanley Cup. Even the singer.
There were trucks full of Penguins!
There were Penguins on the loose!
There were empty-netter Stanley Cup goal scorers!!
Ian Cole jumped out of the truck to get closer to the fans!
There were so many stories, as there are in every sport, that really struck me this season. Jake Guentzel, once a stick boy for Phil Kessel at the University of Minnesota, signed to the Penguins out of college only a year ago, and during the playoffs scored a hat trick, tied for the most points by a rookie, and was third place in votes for the Conn Smythe trophy.
For my niece, one of her favorite moments came when Conor Sheary shared a fist-bump with her.
When I looked across the street, and saw that Phil Kessel (as in Phil Kessel is a Stanley Cup Champion) was working the crowd, I told Brigid to get ready. If Amanda Kessel were in the parade, too, we would see her fairly soon.
And there she was.
Their truck was stopped for a few minutes not far from us. I yelled for Amanda, hoping she might realize that among all these 650,000 Black-and-Gold clad fans, there was at least one girl in a #bestkessel Riveters t-shirt. I'm not sure if Ms. Kessel could see that, but Brigid was ecstatic being that close to the recent World Champion.
Marc-Andre Fleury was lucky he did not leave the safe confines of his assigned pick-up truck. I would have grabbed his sweater and sobbed, "Please don't goooooooooooo."
Здравствуйте, Евгений Малкин!
Bringing up the rear was Sidney Crosby, cradling the Stanley Cup. Brigid threw a handful of confetti into the bowl instead of touching it.
And just like that it was over, at least for us. The Penguins continued into Point Park, greeted by even more fans gathered in front of a stage for further cheering and screaming.
Sure, the Stanley Cup was won by a group of very talented, driven athletes who are solely responsible for the wins that got them to this point. Clearly, too, much credit must go to the supporting cast of coaches, trainers and equipment managers who support the players to this end. The hockey club management also recognizes the contributions of everyone in their employ, from the National Anthem Singer to the ticket account managers. Parades like this thank the fans. Again, I turn to Nick Hornby to explain how I feel about this part of the sportsfan life.
On Monday morning I was rushing around the apartment, finishing our packing for our summer trip home. At the same time, we were listening to Game 6 of the Stanley Cup Finals, hoping for a Penguins victory over the Nashville Predators.
And it happened! For the second year in a row, the Pittsburgh Penguins won the Stanley Cup!
Soon after the game was finished, we were in the car, headed to the airport to arrive in Pittsburgh very late that Monday night. By Friday, we would be back at the Pittsburgh airport, traveling to Berlin for a week while Randy was attending a trade show.
Our week was already running on a tight schedule. As much fun as we had last year at the Penguins victory parade, I didn't imagine we would get to repeat that experience this year.
The Penguins were also under time constraints. Sometime during our layover in Chicago the hockey club announced the victory parade for Wednesday. That was a day that we could actually manage.
I always feel like I need to justify our attending these kinds of events. That is when I turn to Nick Hornby, who wrote this in Fever Pitch, which is close to how I feel:
It isn't every day we get to experience the joined euphoria of a crowd 650,000 strong, either.
So please, be tolerant of those who describe a sporting moment as their best ever. We do not lack imagination, nor have we had sad and barren lives; it is just that real life is paler, duller, and contains less potential for unexpected delirium
Our jet lag even worked in our favor. We knew we wanted to be in a better position this year, and getting up early and taking the bus into Downtown was not so great a challenge.
Some people had gotten there much earlier than we did, and they were prepared for the hours of waiting.
I was surprised that we could get such prime spot so close to 8 am. Fortunately there was a Starbucks nearby, so Randy and I could take turns minding the space, buying drinks and snacks, and escorting kids to the bathroom.
Last year Brigid caught only a glimpse of her hockey hero, Amanda Kessel. This year she was ready to get a better view.
We waited hours for the parade to reach our spot. But once it did, it was wonderful mayhem!
Jeff Jimmerson, the Penguins' National Anthem singer, had his own truck. He has quite the following in Pittsburgh. I really like that about the Penguins organization--they recognize every member's contribution to the Stanley Cup. Even the singer.
There were trucks full of Penguins!
There were Penguins on the loose!
There were empty-netter Stanley Cup goal scorers!!
Ian Cole jumped out of the truck to get closer to the fans!
There were so many stories, as there are in every sport, that really struck me this season. Jake Guentzel, once a stick boy for Phil Kessel at the University of Minnesota, signed to the Penguins out of college only a year ago, and during the playoffs scored a hat trick, tied for the most points by a rookie, and was third place in votes for the Conn Smythe trophy.
For my niece, one of her favorite moments came when Conor Sheary shared a fist-bump with her.
When I looked across the street, and saw that Phil Kessel (as in Phil Kessel is a Stanley Cup Champion) was working the crowd, I told Brigid to get ready. If Amanda Kessel were in the parade, too, we would see her fairly soon.
And there she was.
Their truck was stopped for a few minutes not far from us. I yelled for Amanda, hoping she might realize that among all these 650,000 Black-and-Gold clad fans, there was at least one girl in a #bestkessel Riveters t-shirt. I'm not sure if Ms. Kessel could see that, but Brigid was ecstatic being that close to the recent World Champion.
Marc-Andre Fleury was lucky he did not leave the safe confines of his assigned pick-up truck. I would have grabbed his sweater and sobbed, "Please don't goooooooooooo."
Здравствуйте, Евгений Малкин!
Bringing up the rear was Sidney Crosby, cradling the Stanley Cup. Brigid threw a handful of confetti into the bowl instead of touching it.
And just like that it was over, at least for us. The Penguins continued into Point Park, greeted by even more fans gathered in front of a stage for further cheering and screaming.
Sure, the Stanley Cup was won by a group of very talented, driven athletes who are solely responsible for the wins that got them to this point. Clearly, too, much credit must go to the supporting cast of coaches, trainers and equipment managers who support the players to this end. The hockey club management also recognizes the contributions of everyone in their employ, from the National Anthem Singer to the ticket account managers. Parades like this thank the fans. Again, I turn to Nick Hornby to explain how I feel about this part of the sportsfan life.
One thing I know for sure about being a fan is this: it is a vicarious pleasure, despite all appearances to the contrary, and those who say that they would rather do than watch are missing the point. Football is a context where watching becomes doing – not in the aerobic sense, because watching a game, smoking your head off while doing so, drinking after it has finished and eating chips on the way home is unlikely to do you a whole lot of Jane Fonda good, in the way that chuffing up and down a pitch is supposed to. But when there is some kind of triumph, the pleasure does not radiate from the players outwards until it reaches the likes of us at the back of the terraces in a pale and diminished form; our fun is not a watery version of the team’s fun, even though they are the ones that get to score the goals and climb the steps at Wembley to meet Princess Diana. The joy we feel on occasions like this is not a celebration of others’ good fortune, but a celebration of our own...Without the 650,000 fans who could gather Downtown with less than 48 hours' notice, the parade would be unnecessary. I felt that this year the players understood this even more than last. Jumping out of their designated trucks, interacting with the fans who had been standing along the parade route for hours---this was sharing in the fun and joy of our mutual good fortunes. Theirs, to be on this team this season. Ours, for our life circumstances that have made us fans of this team.
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