RTK
04-06-2007, 10:47
i sent this to Roguish Lawyer after the brief hockey discussion in the intro board. This, after bringing back all my soldiers after two OIF rotations, is the second proudest moment in my career.
On 9 MAY 2004 I was in Colorado Springs after spending a year in Iraq with the mighty 3d Armored Cavalry Regiment as a tank and scout platoon leader. As an avid fan of professional hockey I was watching a playoff game between the Calgary Flames and the San Jose Sharks on the boob tube with my neighbor across the street. Well into the end of a case of Coors Light, a television timeout occured roughly halfway through the first overtime period, giving the opporunity to head to the latrine and shift some ballast. As I left the room, a promotional for NHL.com came across the screen, placing a thought into my well-saturated noggin that was placed into motion as I returned to the room and passed my computer.
I'll e-mail Gary Bettman and ask for the Cup for a day.
Through bleary, teary, and bloodshot eyes, I banged away (literally) at my computer with the explanation that I'd, along with hundreds of hockey fans in the Regiment, had missed most of the season and the previous season's playoffs due to deployment. Or at least, that was the gist of the e-mail.
If the original had only been so clear.
Checking back at my sent items later, there was a spot in time where I must have rested my hand on the "z" key as there were a good three lines of "z's."
After becoming very proud of my own audacity I returned to the television to watch Calgary's Steve Montador score the game winner on Jarome Iginla and Shean Donavan's assist with less than two minutes to play in the first overtime period.
I gave no more thought to the e-mail for at least 5 months.
Sometime in early October I received an e-mail from Phil Pritchard, an employee of the Hockey Hall of Fame in Toronto, CA. Apparently he had gotten the e-mail forwarded to him from the NHL front office (as the HHOF owns the Cup) and thought it was a great idea. From there, I went to the Regimental Commander who thought it was a great idea.
After much posturing, we determined a date to coincide with the Regimental Christmas party in early December. It was going to be displayed in the Mess Hall for the day for pictures and then brought to the Christmas Party so that more pictures could be taken around the Cup.
The morning of the arrival I went to the front gate of Fort Carson to link up with Mike Bolt, one of the Keepers of the Cup. Mike got his job after one of the Pittsbugh Penguins lost a bet in the early 1990s in relation to the Cup's buoyancy in a swimming pool. After 14 hours of struggle, the Cup was recovered from Mario Lemieux's deep end and the Cup was never given to the winning team's players again without an escort. In stepped Mike.
Upon meeting Mike at the front gate it was learned that a change to DOD policy necessitated the production of a passport for any foreign citizen to enter a DOD installation. Mike, being Canadian, didn't know where his was but had isolated its probably location to one of three rooms in his Toronto, Ontario home.
1800 miles away.
Trying desperately to explain the fact that they gate guards were potentially going to ruin the morale of hundreds of soldiers I went into panic mode. That's when I saw the Post Assistant G3, who I had worked for in the past when he was a Squadron S3, entering post in his POV. I flagged him down.
"Sir, I need your help. I have the Stanley Cup in that car over there and I can't get it in post. Can you help me?"
After initially throwing out the BS flag, I pursuaded him to come over to the vehicle. In the back of the Nissan Pathfinder, there sat the big, blue, non-descript luggage case that any fan of hockey has seen one night in June during the Finals. After Mike unlocked the case, there it stood, Lord Stanley's Cup, shining like the Holy Grail for all to see.
"I authorize, as a member of the post staff, this man to come on post."
Not a problem.
Now, from a force protection standpoint, Gate 1 at Fort Carson was essentially closed for about 4 minutes so that the gate guards could all see. It was quite humorous.
After that escapade, we got it to the mess hall for the day without fanfare. From COB to the Christmas Party there was about 2 hours to kill so I brought Mike back to my house to meet my wife and daughter. Not wanting to seem like some over-anxious fan (which I was) I held off on asking Mike to bring the Cup in my house. After about a half hour, Mike asked me if he wanted me to bring it in from the car.
"Are you kidding me? Put it on the coffee table!" was about all I could get out.
Mike told me to get the neighbors over so they could take pictures. I went and got my neighbor across the street, who I watched that fateful game with and had, incidentally, worked on my plumbing earlier in the day.
"Steve, come over to my house, quick!"
Fairly certain that a weld had broken in the bathroom, he ran to grab his tools.
2 minutes later Steve was crashing through my front door. He looked to his left and froze.
"That's the Stanley Cup!"
Everyone in the neighborhood got pictures. My daughter sat in the Cup. I spent the better part of an hour going over each inch of the Cup with my eyes.
We went to the Christmas party later and Mike was coined by the Regimental Commander and CSM. It was awesome. Upon departing that night, Mike told me that he appreciated the day and that it was more meaningful to him than any day trip with an NHL star.
And that's how I got the Stanley Cup for a day.
On 9 MAY 2004 I was in Colorado Springs after spending a year in Iraq with the mighty 3d Armored Cavalry Regiment as a tank and scout platoon leader. As an avid fan of professional hockey I was watching a playoff game between the Calgary Flames and the San Jose Sharks on the boob tube with my neighbor across the street. Well into the end of a case of Coors Light, a television timeout occured roughly halfway through the first overtime period, giving the opporunity to head to the latrine and shift some ballast. As I left the room, a promotional for NHL.com came across the screen, placing a thought into my well-saturated noggin that was placed into motion as I returned to the room and passed my computer.
I'll e-mail Gary Bettman and ask for the Cup for a day.
Through bleary, teary, and bloodshot eyes, I banged away (literally) at my computer with the explanation that I'd, along with hundreds of hockey fans in the Regiment, had missed most of the season and the previous season's playoffs due to deployment. Or at least, that was the gist of the e-mail.
If the original had only been so clear.
Checking back at my sent items later, there was a spot in time where I must have rested my hand on the "z" key as there were a good three lines of "z's."
After becoming very proud of my own audacity I returned to the television to watch Calgary's Steve Montador score the game winner on Jarome Iginla and Shean Donavan's assist with less than two minutes to play in the first overtime period.
I gave no more thought to the e-mail for at least 5 months.
Sometime in early October I received an e-mail from Phil Pritchard, an employee of the Hockey Hall of Fame in Toronto, CA. Apparently he had gotten the e-mail forwarded to him from the NHL front office (as the HHOF owns the Cup) and thought it was a great idea. From there, I went to the Regimental Commander who thought it was a great idea.
After much posturing, we determined a date to coincide with the Regimental Christmas party in early December. It was going to be displayed in the Mess Hall for the day for pictures and then brought to the Christmas Party so that more pictures could be taken around the Cup.
The morning of the arrival I went to the front gate of Fort Carson to link up with Mike Bolt, one of the Keepers of the Cup. Mike got his job after one of the Pittsbugh Penguins lost a bet in the early 1990s in relation to the Cup's buoyancy in a swimming pool. After 14 hours of struggle, the Cup was recovered from Mario Lemieux's deep end and the Cup was never given to the winning team's players again without an escort. In stepped Mike.
Upon meeting Mike at the front gate it was learned that a change to DOD policy necessitated the production of a passport for any foreign citizen to enter a DOD installation. Mike, being Canadian, didn't know where his was but had isolated its probably location to one of three rooms in his Toronto, Ontario home.
1800 miles away.
Trying desperately to explain the fact that they gate guards were potentially going to ruin the morale of hundreds of soldiers I went into panic mode. That's when I saw the Post Assistant G3, who I had worked for in the past when he was a Squadron S3, entering post in his POV. I flagged him down.
"Sir, I need your help. I have the Stanley Cup in that car over there and I can't get it in post. Can you help me?"
After initially throwing out the BS flag, I pursuaded him to come over to the vehicle. In the back of the Nissan Pathfinder, there sat the big, blue, non-descript luggage case that any fan of hockey has seen one night in June during the Finals. After Mike unlocked the case, there it stood, Lord Stanley's Cup, shining like the Holy Grail for all to see.
"I authorize, as a member of the post staff, this man to come on post."
Not a problem.
Now, from a force protection standpoint, Gate 1 at Fort Carson was essentially closed for about 4 minutes so that the gate guards could all see. It was quite humorous.
After that escapade, we got it to the mess hall for the day without fanfare. From COB to the Christmas Party there was about 2 hours to kill so I brought Mike back to my house to meet my wife and daughter. Not wanting to seem like some over-anxious fan (which I was) I held off on asking Mike to bring the Cup in my house. After about a half hour, Mike asked me if he wanted me to bring it in from the car.
"Are you kidding me? Put it on the coffee table!" was about all I could get out.
Mike told me to get the neighbors over so they could take pictures. I went and got my neighbor across the street, who I watched that fateful game with and had, incidentally, worked on my plumbing earlier in the day.
"Steve, come over to my house, quick!"
Fairly certain that a weld had broken in the bathroom, he ran to grab his tools.
2 minutes later Steve was crashing through my front door. He looked to his left and froze.
"That's the Stanley Cup!"
Everyone in the neighborhood got pictures. My daughter sat in the Cup. I spent the better part of an hour going over each inch of the Cup with my eyes.
We went to the Christmas party later and Mike was coined by the Regimental Commander and CSM. It was awesome. Upon departing that night, Mike told me that he appreciated the day and that it was more meaningful to him than any day trip with an NHL star.
And that's how I got the Stanley Cup for a day.