It's Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Final, and a man makes his way to his seat right at center ice.
He sits down, noticing that the seat next to him is empty. He leans over and asks his neighbor if someone will be sitting there. "No" says the neighbor. "The seat is empty." "This is incredible," said the man. "Who in their right mind would have a seat like this for the Stanley Cup and not use it?"
The neighbor says, "Well, actually, the seat belongs to me. I was supposed to come with my wife, but she passed away. This is the first Stanley Cup we haven't been to together since we got married."
"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that. That's terrible... But couldn't you find someone else, a friend or relative, or even a neighbor to take the seat?" The man shakes his head. "No,†he says. “They're all at the funeral."
He sits down, noticing that the seat next to him is empty. He leans over and asks his neighbor if someone will be sitting there. "No" says the neighbor. "The seat is empty." "This is incredible," said the man. "Who in their right mind would have a seat like this for the Stanley Cup and not use it?"
The neighbor says, "Well, actually, the seat belongs to me. I was supposed to come with my wife, but she passed away. This is the first Stanley Cup we haven't been to together since we got married."
"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that. That's terrible... But couldn't you find someone else, a friend or relative, or even a neighbor to take the seat?" The man shakes his head. "No,†he says. “They're all at the funeral."
