Sheila O'Malley reminds us, with links to her many excellent posts on the subject, that 27 years ago today the US Olympic hockey team beat the USSR in a stunning upset to advance to the Gold Medal game. There are very few sporting events that I personally have been inspired by, maybe two. This is one of them and it will always have a special place in me. To understand why, you have to understand the context, the way things were back then when that game was played. And the best way to describe the years leading up to February 22nd, 1980, was gloomy.
From the time I was thirteen and Nixon resigned, through the fall of Saigon, oil shocks, inflation, unemployment, the cold war with the USSR seemingly ascendant back then, to when I was eighteen in 1979, it seemed the US was losing in everything. It wasn't all bad by any means, but it seemed that America had lost its promise. I came of age in a time when the President thought his job was to help manage us into lowered expectations. And that just generally pissed me off. It also made me deeply fatalistic.
It may sound odd or somewhat hysterical now, but by 1980, I was pretty sure I'd never live to see 1990. Either I'd die in some war somewhere, or the US and the USSR would finally launch the big ones and any survivors would envy the dead anyway. Life went on of course, and I went off to college and worked my job and went on dates. Deep down though, there was always this feeling of inevitable doom.
So it's in that context that I listened to a hockey game 27 years ago and paced the family room in my parent's basement, all by myself. I had been thrilled at how the US team had played so far, but I didn't really expect them to beat the giant Russians. The Russians were really pros, the Americans? Just kids about my age, my peers. They didn't really have a chance, I was just hoping they would make a decent game of it.
But something happened as that game went on. It slowly dawned on me that the powerful Russians weren't running away with it, in fact, we could beat them. When the US went ahead with about 10 minutes to play, I remember daring, yes daring, to think we were going to win. I could feel the determination of the US team and the growing desperation of the USSR team. I'm sure it would be hilarious to have a video of me listening to the last part of that game, yelling and pacing and gesturing wildly. I was completely into it. I was there.
When the crowd started chanting off the final seconds, I chanted right with them, a thousand miles away. After that last second ticked off, I roared right along with them too. It may seem odd to some now, but it was amazingly cathartic for me back then and a turning point in my life. I think at that moment I put the fatalism of the seventies behind me and never looked back. There were still tough times and tough issues to deal with, no doubt. But that game completely changed my perspective. Maybe some things aren't inevitable. Maybe I don't have to accept lowered expectations. Maybe some of those challenges that look so invincible really aren't.
For some it was, and still is, just a game. For me, at that point in my young life, it was much more and always will be. It truly was a miracle.
P.S. Rest in peace, Herb.
Recent Comments