Thirty years ago today, I was a thirteen -year old kid living in a Washington D.C. suburb, going on with the daily grind of life in the 8th grade. I guess you could call me a hockey fan, but not like I am today. I had been to a couple Washington Capitals games, so I knew the basics of the game, but that’s about it. At school that day, I was dimly aware of the drama playing out in Lake Placid New York, site of the 1980 Winter Olympics. I paid more attention to the downhill, bobsled, ski jumping, that sort of thing, than hockey. Considering the U.S. hockey team wasn’t expected to do much, it’s safe to say I hadn’t followed them at all. The game that took place that afternoon while I played outside 
would leave an indelible impact on me. The game was tape delayed, so it could be shown in prime time. I watched with my parents, two non-hockey fans, who were as riveted to the game as I was. We watched as Mark Johnson tied the game in the final seconds of the first period on a bungled play by Soviet goalie Vladislav Tretiak. When the second period started, Soviet coach Viktor Tikhonov replaced Tretiak with the backup goalie and even non-hockey fans could tell something was amiss on the Russian side. Two more periods of edge of your seat hockey went by, and to be honest, most of it’s a blur. I remember highs and lows as Russia moved ahead, then the U.S. tied again, the the go ahead goal by U.S. captain Mike Eruzione with ten minutes left in the third. Al Michael’s call to wrap the end of the game gives me chills to this day;
“Eleven seconds, you’ve got ten seconds, the countdown going on right now! Morrow, up to Silk. Five seconds left in the game. Do you believe in miracles? YES!”
We screamed in my house and the screams could be heard in the neighbors houses. It was all anybody talked about for the next few days. I haven’t really had a feeling like that in the thirty years that have elapsed since that night…but last night came pretty close.
I had been looking forward to the USA/Canada game for a week. I was in Vancouver the week before the Olympics started and the level of smack-talking coming from the Canadians was unreal. Suffice it to say, there was very little respect for our U.S. team. I, on the other hand, had a healthy respect for the Canadians. Made up of all-stars, the Canadians are coached by Mike Babcock, the head coach of my beloved Detroit Redwings. I was hoping for a good hockey game, but held little hope that the U.S. would beat a Red Menace for the new millenium. Forty one seconds into the game and the boisterous Canadian crowd was hushed by a slap shot score by Redwing Brian Rafalski. The U.S. took the lead and answered back with a goal every time the Canadians tied the score. I was in nirvana. Not only was I getting a grade-A hockey game, the Americans were going to win it. U.S. goalie Ryan Miller was a wall as the Canadian’s peppered him with pucks.
In the end, the U.S. won 5-3 in a game they weren’t expected to win, against a team that was the favorite for the gold. Sound familiar? I say was the favorite. After last night, and a shootout victory against Switzerland in the game before, there are serious questions flying around about the Canadian’s ability, while the U.S. is seeded number one going into the semi-finals. Was it a true Miracle on Ice II? No, it wasn’t. There were a whole ton of outside factors that made that victory
what it was. Last night, was simply the finest performance by a United States hockey team since the Miracle on Ice. Thirty years later, it was fun to share that experience with my thirteen year old daughter, who is a fan, but not a big one. Last night though, she was as riveted to the game as a thirteen year old boy was thirty years earlier.
Turns out, Olympic torches aren’t the only ones that get passed along.
