A week full of memories (and a fridge full of beer)

It was a week to remember for me, what with my beloved Oshawa Generals winning the Memorial Cup, my beer bro and former college roomie arriving from far off New Zealand, and the little matter of me proudly carrying the flame during the Pan Am Games Torch Run.

The fact that I have some cool swag, even cooler memories and a fridge full (well, not anymore) of truly awesome beers means the good times just keep on giving.

It was all Gens to start the week as the boys won the Memorial Cup - junior hockey's biggest prize - for the fifth time and the first in a quarter-century.

With General Motors - the team's namesake and original sponsor - threatening to pull out of the Motor City and take several thousand jobs with it, the Cup run was a welcome diversion for Oshawa residents. The team, which was ranked number one in the nation for 16 consecutive weeks and knocked off hockey's next wonderkid - Connor McDavid - and his Erie Otters in the OHL final, ran the table in the Memorial Cup and finished it off with a dramatic 2-1 overtime win over the Kelowna Rockets in the final.

Captain Josh Brown and the Memorial Cup

My city loves its junior hockey and especially its Generals and the town damn near shut down that Sunday night and the hangover - more than two weeks later - still lingers. The good kind of hangover.

The visit from my Kiwi pal (by way of Gananoque) Steve was up next on my week from the Gods and it had the advantage of having more beer involved. The Gods approved.

Steve has been living in Wellington, New Zealand - one of the world's craft beer capitals - for some 15 years and has only been back home once since then, for his brother's wedding. This time Steve was here for a sombre occasion: to bury his father John, who died May 25.

Steve got to spend some time with his family to celebrate his Dad's life, and he continued to celebrate John Cossaboom's time on this earth in Burlington, where he was hosted by Beer Bro Don, who took two week's holiday to help his pal celebrate the only way they know how: by drinking copious amounts of IPAs and their friends.

How many beers did they drink?  Hard to say, but if you read this Stevil lands at DB&G or this The fine art of day drinking - both lifted from the legendary Brew Ha Ha beer blog - you may get an idea. I know Don learnt something new: don't engage the big guy in a drinking competition.

I know Don can drink, but I don't think he realized how many Steve (estimated height: 5 foot 19) can put away. There were (substantiated) stories of Don fast asleep while Steve, umpteenth Imperial IPA or some other form of liquid dynamite in hand as he watches the hockey game; tales (unsubstantiated; possibly made up) of late night mascara sessions; and this appeal from Don to Steve's sister, the lovely and talented Kim:

"I am throwing the A beers at Sasquatch here and yet he does not fall? W-T-actual-Fuck?"

That's Amy on the left, Gordo (with the Captain America
 glass) and Steve, the guest of honour, in the middle

We gave Don a hand on the Thursday night when Donnie's Bar & Grill welcomed a half-dozen Humber J-School alum (and a few Beer Store people, who are always welcome at DB&G) for a mini Humber College Journalism Reunion.

There was, besides the three of us, the always interesting and uber-cool Other Steve, and Ann, who has retained her wit and her famous tight curls from all those years ago. From Don's Beer Store family there was the captivating and charming Amy, the legend that is Gord, and Sandi, who had left before my arrival.

Poor Sandi, knowing I was passed out at 9:30 at the last DB&G party, probably came especially early to see me. Fooled her - I had to work extra late and then I made my customary border run to grab some Stone (Cal) beers and assorted other American IPAs, so I was running several hours behind.

My revised strategy paid off. After many hours talking about current projects (Michael Jackson? Wait, what?), the good ol' days (they were pretty good) and drinking plenty of beer, the crowd started to thin a little bit.

The beers were fine, hoppy and plentiful. I can't speak for the early birds, but I enjoyed a Canadian-made Goose Island (smooth and tasty but not exciting), the always awesome Smashbomb, Headstock fresh from the growler, a Long Dong Pilsener from Great Lakes, an Aprihop from Dogfish Head (courtesy of Consumers Beverages in Niagara Falls, NY), the new and improved Stone Pale Ale, a Cameron`Rye Pale Ale and a Ruination 2.0 from Stone that was amazing enough to deserve more attention in a future blog.

So good.

I wasn't even mad that Don drank half of the top notch New Zealand IPAs Steve had brought with him (No Hop Zombie? Say it ain't so!) and gave the rest away to Kylie, his favourite Beer Technician. Okay, maybe a little. But I got over it.

And then it was just Steve (not Other Steve), Ann (of the Michael Jackson Project fame) and me. And then, just me.

Last man standing.

No Hop Zombies? No, because
Steve and Don DRANK THEM ALL!

For those who were there at a previous DB&G soiree (or read about it here Unapologetic about Beer), I repeat: Last. Man (or Woman). Standing.

In the morning (I bailed on work that day) I enjoyed a nutritious (and delicious!) breakfast of Mill Street Coffee Porter and a humongous apple pie (courtesy of Other Steve) with Don and Steve, giving me another chance to catch up on old times with the big guy after nearly 30 years apart. Seeing him in New Zealand - a place I visited in 1989 - is on my bucket list

And then I was off home to Oshawa for my big day with the Pan Am Torch, while Steve hopped on a plane that afternoon for Vancouver (another of his old stomping grounds) before heading home to Wellington.

(I stopped at Nickel Brook on the way out of Burlington for a growler of Headstock and met John, the boss of this amazing brewery. I gave him a gift of a Dorado, a IIPA from Ballast Point of San Diego, and he gifted me a couple of Headstock in return. Bonus! I just hope he realized the Dorado was 10 per cent alcohol. I found out myself that night. Liver killer but really good.)

I wrote about my Pan Am experience before (Shwa Stories: Passing the Torch) so I won't bore you with the details, but suffice it to say it was fucking AWESOME!

I changed my mind. I  will bore you with some of the details.

You know when you hear the anthem being played and you get goosebumps? It was like that except I was actually singing the anthem in front of 20,000 people. Except I wasn't really singing, because then 20,000 people would be screaming in agony, and it was more like two hundred people, but you get my point.

I felt pride. Pride gets a bad rap, but pride can be pretty cool.

My family was there to watch my moment in the sun, which is a figure of speech as it was raining like a sonovabitch that day. The rain didn't put a damper on the run at all, though. Really, really awesome.

I was number 61 on the day and number 60 - the person who passed me the torch - was Marta, the legendary Brazilian soccer player who was in Canada for the FIFA Woman's World Cup. She had a television crew following her around but I didn't recognize her until just before we boarded the bus to head out to our appointed spots.

Passing the torch

Of course I had to get a quick picture of the two of us. "Weren't you the World Footballer of the Year?" says I, showing off my vast soccer knowledge. "Five times," she corrected me.

I guess that makes Marta - with apologies to our own Christine Sinclair - the greatest women's soccer player in the history of the game. Pretty damn cool, I'd say.

The actual run went far better than I dreamed - I was worried that my torn knee would let me down - and my 200 metres of fame was over far too soon. You still owe me ten minutes, Andy Warhol.

And then I was back home, my wonderful week for the memory banks over. Until I got on my computer and saw the congratulatory messages from my friends. I have more friends than I thought and I thank you all.

And the good times kept on rolling when I looked in my fridge; filled with lots and lots of great beer.

Truly a week to remember.

R.I.P. John Cossaboom 1929-2015