TAMPA — No matter where they go, Mike Bolt is always looking over his shoulder, keeping an eye out for Stanley.

In 15 years together, they've been backstage at Jimmy Buffett, Kid Rock, Rush.

They've appeared together on Letterman, Leno, The View.

They've been in the White House, to the top of the Empire State Building, to Belarus.

This is what life is like for the keeper of the Stanley Cup — the championship trophy of the NHL, one of the most celebrated, distinctive and iconic prizes in the world.

"It's not that I change diapers, but sometimes I treat it like a child," Bolt, 46, said of Stanley. "I don't want anything to happen to it."

• • •

What a strange profession, keeper of the cup. That fuzzy ground between father and chaperone.

Since 2000, Mike Bolt has ridden Stanley's coattails.

Endlessly lugging one of the world's most famous pieces of luggage, though, was never his boyhood dream.

Like many boys growing up in Canada, Bolt first dreamed of becoming a hockey player. From sunrise to sunset, he glided across the frozen outdoor pond near his family's home outside Toronto, practicing until his mother's call for dinner.

After playing throughout southern Ontario during high school, Bolt snagged a job in retail. Then he heard about an opening at the Hockey Hall of Fame in Toronto.

"So I went and applied down there just like anyone applies for a job," Bolt said.

That was two decades ago. A few years later, they offered him the honor of overseeing Lord Stanley's Cup, the holy grail of hockey.

"Here I am, still doing it," he said.

Bolt tends to demystify the job, probably because he spends 200-plus days on the road with an inanimate object that is regularly hoisted, bathed, kissed, worshiped and mythologized.

Babies have been baptized in Stanley's bowl, vodka has been guzzled.

Bolt's duty is to ensure Stanley's safety while he spends one, sometimes two, days with each player of the winning team. Those heroes earned the right to the cup's love handles for the remainder of their lives.

For the rest of the world, there are rules to follow.

You can touch the cup, kiss the cup, pose for a picture with the cup. You can even dunk your head inside the bowl and pretend to lick the cup.

Bolt's No. 1 rule: "I don't want anybody lifting the cup."

That honor is reserved for those whose names adorn — or will adorn — the cup.

• • •

Fun facts:

Stanley is made of 97 percent silver. Stanley is soft and weighs 35 pounds. There are a little over 2,700 names wrapped around Stanley's waist.

Stanley isn't perfect. But like any good keeper, Bolt understands each blemish.

There are team names with misspellings. The Boston Bruins, 1971-72 — BQSTQN. The New York Islanders, 1980-81? ILANDERS. Toronto Maple Leafs, 1962-63 — LEAES.

There's a name crossed off the cup from 1984. Baslim Pocklington. He was the father of Peter Pocklington, who owned the Edmonton Oilers from 1976 to 1998. Since Baslim had nothing to do with the team, the league X'ed it out.

Gross facts:

When a team wins the cup, players drink champagne from it. Beer too. Players put ice cream sundaes in it, spaghetti and meatballs, even Canadian poutine, which is french fries, gravy and cheese. Jell-O has been eaten out of it. Sushi. Chicken wings with ranch dip.

"We clean it every day," Bolt said.

• • •

Bolt is one of four guys across the world who get to carry the people's cup.

He says there's more to him than just Stanley.

He's a die-hard hockey fan who enjoys sitcoms.

He's a single gardener who keeps his home looking like "a five-star hotel."

"I do understand why people want to talk" about the cup, Bolt said. "But it's still weird for me."

He carries Stanley around in a black roadie case, which means the cup isn't immediately recognizable.

People are always asking him: "Are you a magician? A musician?"

Sometimes Bolt just smiles.

Other times, he tells them it's Stanley.

Times staff writer Katie Mettler contributed to this report.