Still believing in miracles

Do you believe in miracles?
For red-white-and-blue loving Americans, the answer was “Yes 2.0” on Sunday morning, as another heroic chapter was added to USA men’s hockey lore at the Olympic Games.
Exactly 46 years to the day after the United States won gold at the 1980 Winter Olympics, I joined millions of other quasi-hockey fans early Sunday, tuning in and hoping to watch a bit of history unfold again, this time in Milan.
I haven’t watched an entire hockey game on television since, well, come to think of it, Feb. 22, 1980, when the U.S. men defeated Finland to secure gold after the David-versus-Goliath upset of the mighty Soviets a few days earlier.
Anyone of a certain age can remember where they were when Team USA rushed the podium that day, securing a place in American hearts as well as the history books. After watching the 4-3 upset over the Soviets on tape (I don’t recall if it was shown live, but if so, I missed it) a group of friends gathered in our living room for the game against Finland.
We were joined that morning by Pekka Sorros, an exchange student from Finland who may have been one of the few people in the country NOT pulling hard for the good ol’ U.S. of A. That team was more about grit than glamour until they knocked off a Soviet squad widely considered to have a men-against-boys advantage. From that moment on, they were legends, inspiring a generation of hockey players and young athletes who dreamed of one day representing their country.
Almost a half-century later, here we were again playing for gold, having fallen just short against Canada in 2010.
So much has changed since 1980. Today’s rosters are filled with stars from the National Hockey League, and both Canada and the United States iced lineups loaded with elite professional talent. For two weeks they played for country instead of contracts, in some cases skating against their own NHL teammates.
This time, the pundits predicted a Canada vs. USA showdown for all the golden marbles, though both teams had to survive overtime thrillers just to get there.
Full disclosure: I’m not a die-hard hockey fan, as you’ve likely gathered. I knew little about this particular team or the year-long buildup until the Olympic flame was lit in Italy. But that’s the magic of those five interlocking rings. They have a way of pulling even casual observers to the edge of their seats, uniting us every four years behind athletes who have poured their lives into a dream of wearing their nation’s colors and chasing gold.
As Sunday’s game unfolded, Canada looked sharp, perhaps even dominant at times, generating more and better scoring chances. U.S. goalie Connor Hellebuyck etched his name into Olympic lore with 41 saves, keeping hope alive shift after shift. What I know about hockey you could fit inside a puck, but my heart was pounding like it was 1980 all over again.
Then came overtime. Then came the shot. Then came the eruption as Jack Hughes buried the game-winner. What a game. What a finish. What a reminder.
For a few precious hours, the noise of politics, the weight of world events, and the steady churn of bad news faded into the background. We were simply Americans again, cheering, and yes, daring to believe in miracles.
Because every now and then, sport still gives us a shared moment that feels bigger than the scoreboard. And 46 years later, it turns out we still believe.

KURT JOHNSON can be reached at kjohnson@ hamilton.net