Hawking another cup.

• Author: Barrett, Wayne M.
• Position: SPORTS SCENE - Chicago Blackhawks versus Tampa Bay Lightning

"The episodes in life that last so many years in memory are measured in fleeting moments as they happen," said Emmy my Award-winning sportscaster Mike Emrick, as the Chicago Blackhawks swarmed the ice after defeating the Tampa Bay Lightning, 2-0, in Game 6 to win their third Stanley Cup championship in six years--fleeting moments indeed. My father was a Blackhawks fan, as is one of my three sons today.

The 10-year-old (at the time) Trevor--as I am fond of telling the story--and Patrick Kane appear to be the only ones who realized instantly that Kane's overtime shot indeed had found the back of the net, and that Chicago had won the 2010 Cup, its first in 49 years. Even the incomparable Emrick hesitated as the puck "vanished" on its journey across the goal line. There was this sort of suspended animation when time--and play on the ice--seemingly stopped, everyone but Kane (and Trevor) wondering where the rubber disc had disappeared to. Sitting in the press box, peering down at the Flyers net, I, too, was stymied. A split second later, my cellphone rang.

"It's in. We win," my son said with absolute calm, as if the outcome of the game and the series never was in doubt--and, just at that moment, Kane began circling behind the Philadelphia net to begin his now-renowned celebratory skate down the ice into the arms of his own goaltender, with many onlookers still confused as to exactly where the puck was.

Actually, I should not have been surprised at Trevor's calm assuredness. Four years earlier, when his St. Louis Cardinals--his paternal grandmother and brother also were Cards fans--were matched against the New York Mets in the National League Championship Series, he matter-of-factly stated at dinner one night: "After the Cardinals win the World Series [which they did], I'm going to root for the Toronto Blue Jays," (which he has ever since).

Those "fleeting moments ... that last so many years in memory" cannot help but flood my head every time the Hawks raise another Cup. My father, who was a wonderful storyteller--whether he was describing an old movie or recounting some historic sporting event-often regaled me with tales of the old Black Hawks (yes, back then, Black Hawks was two words). There were descriptions of Bobby Hull and his then-novel curved-blade stick and the blistering slap-shots it produced; Stan Mikita, an on-ice pugilist who finally learned to control his temper and ultimately perfected the art of the pass from behind the net; and...