we are the champions

Anything I write in this post will not come close to revealing the depth of my feelings about the Blackhawks winning the 2010 Stanley Cup. I feel like a fraud for even trying!

I cheer for three hockey teams. The Bruins, my birth team, are my first loyalty. The Blackhawks come second and the Penguins are third. The Penguins have won Cups recently, and although I've felt great pleasure in their victories, it wasn't the same. I have vague memories of the Bruins' last Cup victory in 1972. I was 9 years old. I remember we didn't have to go to school on the day of the celebration. I remember watching it on TV with my grandfather.

I wasn't even born when the Blackhawks last won the Cup in 1961. The team has undergone quite a resurgence over the past few years with Rocky Wirtz at the helm. He changed Chicago's feelings about our hockey team and gave us something to be proud of. The players are unparalleled in talent and in heart. They deserved it, but speaking for myself, I was almost afraid to hope that they'd actually get it.

There were a few bumps and missteps along the way. But when that unbelievable final goal was scored by Patrick Kane in game 6, I screamed so loud that all three of the cats ran for cover.

The days since have been remarkable. All of my friends know what a huge hockey fan I am. It took all of them only seconds after the final goal to post messages to me on Facebook, call me or e-mail me. Made me feel like *I* had won something. What an incredible outpouring of friendship and emotion. Made me cry.

Yesterday I stood on Michigan Avenue between Lake and Randolph along with 2 million other Hawks faithful to watch the culmination of a glorious season. I grabbed my spot on the parade route 4 hours in advance because I knew it was something I had to see as close as possible. I was front row-- couldn't have been better. I passed the waiting time eagerly messaging and e-mailing my friends to share the excitement with them. And I rubbed elbows with other fans, soaking it all in.

Across the street from my location was a Pauline bookstore. In the second floor window, a nun in full habit kept appearing and leaning out of the open window. Teenagers below had a boom box and they would periodically play a recording of the horn signalling a Hawks goal, followed by "Chelsea Dagger." The nun would sway back and forth to the music and raise her arms triumphantly. That became the defining moment of the parade for me. To see a city of people-- from all walks of life-- come together for something positive and pure was the best feeling in the world.

After a long wait, the procession started. First the Chicago police bagpipe band. The Budweiser clydesdales. A few corporate floats. Then the team executives. Finally, double-decker tour buses carrying the players. And the Stanley Cup. I took as many pictures as my shaking hands would allow. Their smiles were genuine and the love we had for them was even more so. It was a feeling palpable in the air around us.

I will cherish this experience as long as I live.