MANITOWANING—“Mom, when you go to Pittsburgh can you go to Sidney Crosby’s house and get his autograph?” my 10-year-old son asked. I then explained that I would be there for a quilt convention, and even though NHL playoffs were on, Sidney Crosby would be not be at home, but rather travelling.
“No, Mom, game 7 is in Pittsburgh—please try!’ he replied.
I presumed that there was no way I was going to have any contact with the NHL Stanley Cup playoff series while I was in Pittsburgh. Little did I know how wrong I would be.
A few days after our conversation, I drove for 12 hours straight, arriving in Pittsburgh late and had dinner with my friend. We went back to our hotel and got into a crowded elevator with five men in suits. Starting up a conversation, they asked where I was from, to which I responded, “‘Manitoulin Island, Ontario.” They were surprised and told me they were from Stratford and Orangeville.
When I asked why they were in Pittsburgh, one piped up that they were ‘refs.’ I laughed and made a flippant comment that they had no doubt just finished refereeing the Pittsburgh versus NY Rangers game, totally not believing them. One of them continued the banter, insisting they really were. When I continued to laugh it off, he bent down and opened up a large duffel bag. To my complete shock, he pulled out a black and white referee jersey and insisted I feel it. I did, and let’s just say it was soaked and leave it at that. At that point my mind went into overdrive and I managed to squeak out, “My boys…my boys are not going to believe me!”
[pullquote]“My boys…my boys are not going to believe me!”[/pullquote]
By this time, there were only two referees left in the elevator and we all happened to get off on the same floor. The other referee started poking around in his big hockey bag asking what age my kids were. He pulled out a hockey puck and once again I got asked to “feel it.” It was ice cold. He explained that it was the puck used that night in game 7 and said that Sidney Crosby took a good shot on net with this puck. He told me it was for my 10-year-old, Christopher. Then he dove back into his bag and brought out another puck and told me it was from Game 6 for Steven, my eight-year-old son. They also gave me their referee hockey cards for each of my kids. Who were those kind hearted and thoughtful NHL referees? Steve Millar No. 89 and Scott Driscoll No. 68. Needless to say, I didn’t sleep for the remainder of the night.
When I arrived home a week later, my kids could hardly contain their excitement. “This is the best day ever!” declared Chris, my eldest son.
Who knew that starting a conversation in an elevator would result in two boys from Assiginack ending up with pucks from the NHL Stanley Cup play-offs? The names Steve Millar and Scott Driscoll will forever hold a special place in the hearts of my family.
