Our Cup runneth over

By Ryan Cleary

The Independent



Riverhead, Harbour Grace

It’s not easy to drink from the Stanley Cup, unless a champion helps you with it. Even then it’s still quite messy, and surreal.

I have tried to remember every detail of my brief moments with the Cup, a personal story to pass on about the most famous Cleary of all, the fighting Newfoundlander who won hockey’s Holy Grail and brought it home to the River to celebrate with the people and place he came from.

My first memory is of the RCMP squad cars that escorted the Cup into town at twilight, all lights and action as if the Queen herself were dropping by for a Danny Cleary autograph.

My best memory is of lifting the Stanley Cup as close to the hockey heavens as my arms could reach. I can tell you I was worried I would drop it, and passed on the first offer to hoist the Cup above my head.

“It’ll be your only chance,” said Danny. I would have taken minor offence to that remark on any other day. I may be 41, and I may not be gifted with the God-given talents of my much younger cousin, but I still play the game, on the street and on the ice, with hopes, however remote, of one day making it to the NHL.

But then wasn’t the time to quibble.

To be honest, the thought even crossed my mind that I wouldn’t be able to lift the Stanley Cup. It may only weigh 35 pounds, but my shoulder hasn’t been quite the same since I broke it a few years ago. I shared my concerns with Danny.

“Try playing with a separated shoulder,” he said.

And that was the end of that.

“Lift it with one hand around the neck and the other hand on the base,” he said, showing me how before passing the Cup over.

“I did it,” I remember thinking. “I’m lifting the Stanley Cup.” The only thing heavy was the weight of the moment. Just about everyone in the private gathering of friends and family took a turn lifting the Cup and having a picture taken. Even the chefs took their turn at the end of the night.

And everyone drank from the bowl. Champagne first, and beer when that was gone. Danny held the cup and did the pouring. The people looked like they were chugging from a super-sized chalice at Sunday mass, drinking the blood of the hockey gods.

It may have been a semi-formal affair, but there wasn’t a person in the room who didn’t have a stain on the front of his or her shirt from where the Cup had runneth over. I watched my brother-in-law hoist the Cup. He lives in Alberta and made a special trip home to see Danny and the Cup, even though he’s scheduled to fly down again for a family vacation in two weeks. I watched my brothers and parents, aunts and uncles with the Cup. Every image is special.

I have other memories of Danny’s return, including when my sons met him on the road outside his home off Fishermen’s Road.

“I’ll be playing with you in the NHL when you’re 36,” said Ben, my oldest and boldest, meaning he’ll be 19 when he breaks into the big leagues. “Well Ben, you never know,” said Danny, autographing the Detroit cap handed to him. “Anything’s possible if you work at it and want it bad enough.”

Danny would know.

Another memory that sticks with me is of standing on the corner of Bannerman and Harvey streets, waiting for the Danny Cleary/Stanley Cup motorcade to pass through the sea of red and white Red Wings caps and shirts on its way to celebrations on St. Francis field.

“I don’t know what’s taking Mr. Cleary so long, but I’m not moving from my spot,” said a lady, one of the thousands who lined the streets of Harbour Grace and Riverhead. The lady was true to her word, and hardly moved a step for the hour it took Danny to pass by.

Danny carried the Cup above his head for much of the July 1 parade, and was cheered with as much enthusiasm as any Johnny who comes marching home.

“Nobody embodies the fighting spirit more than Danny Cleary,” said Premier Danny Williams when the procession made it to the field. The premier even sang a special version of Danny Boy for the occasion. The song ended the same as the original version: “We love you so.”

Another special memory is of seeing the Herder, the highest trophy in Newfoundland senior hockey, in a tent on St. Francis field. Danny’s older brother Neil won the trophy again this year with the CeeBees, and pictures were taken with the Stanley Cup next to the Herder.

A man, in this case Kevin Cleary, couldn’t be prouder of his sons.

“The road wasn’t easy, but it came to a great end,” Danny told the crowd when he took to the stage. “You’ve got to work hard and believe in yourself … I’m just a0nother guy from Riverhead.”

One quote sticks with me more than any other.

“I won the Stanley Cup and no one can ever take it away from us.” Notice that Danny said us. Danny has grown into a fabulous hockey player and a better man. He is an inspiration to us all. If Newfoundland and Labrador has royalty it is Danny Cleary.

He is King of the River.



ryan.cleary@theindependent.ca

 

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