I'm old enough to remember Stevie BEFORE the "C" and I'm honored to have experienced an entire career – crying more times than I'm sure I can recall.

I remember, vividly, as he slid into the post, breaking a leg. I cried. Probably because I was 5.

I remember 1995, when the Devils completed the inevitable sweep. I cried.

I remember 1997, when the he finally got his hands on the Cup. I cried for three days.

I remember 1998, when he handed it to Konstantinov. I cried.

I remember the Cup in 2002, when I was in the second row. I cried until the building was empty.

I remember 2004, seeing him writhe in pain behind the net, after the shot in the Flames game. I cried because I thought it was over and it was unfair that THAT'S how it would end.

I remember when he said he was coming back. I cried I was so happy.

I remember where I was on July 3, 2006, when I heard what I hoped I wouldn't. I cried.

I watched the Anaheim game in 2007 when his jersey went up. I cried that I couldn't be there.