BOOKS, ARTS & MANNERS48 | http://www.nationalreview.com MARCH 23 , 202010–3. The cunning Brooks seemed unchar-
acteristically relaxed about the game, con-
tent for the Russians to be complacent.
At the Games themselves, the U.S.
team opened against Sweden and
almost stalled out before it got started.
Down 2–1, with a minute left, the U.S.
pulled its goalie, Jim Craig, and Bill
Baker tied it up with 27 seconds left.
I remember watching the game at home
on a black-and-white TV. I had become a
hockey fan via the woeful Washington
Capitals, still a struggling expansion team
at the time, so hockey success was a
strange, if welcome feeling.
In the next game, the U.S. crushed the
Czechs, presumed to be the second-best
team in the tournament, 7–3. America
got its introduction to Herb Brooks
when he was caught on camera threaten-
ing to shove a stick down a Czech play-
er’s throat after a cheap shot on an
American player.
Three more victories against inferior
teams left the U.S. undefeated and on a
collision course with the Soviets in the
medal round. Brooks believed that the U.S.team didn’t need to be capable of winning
nine out of ten games against the Soviets;
it needed to win onlyone, and if it got the
Soviets into the third period in a close
contest, who knew?
That’s exactly how it played out. The
U.S. emerged tied with the Soviets 2–2
after one period, survived an onslaught
in the second, getting outshot 12–2 but
trailing only 3–2, and then magic hap-
pened in the third.
The U.S. tied it on a power play before
team captain Eruzione scored his historic
goal out of nowhere. He used a Soviet
defender down on his knees as a screen
and didn’t see the shot go in. When he
realized he’d scored, he bicycled his legs
in a jig of joy and was mobbed by his
teammates against the glass. (Brooks
always encouraged the entire team to cel-
ebrate goals to work up the crowd.)
Eruzione’s friends joke that if his shot
had been three inches to the left, his post-
Olympics career would have consisted of
painting bridges.Now, it was really happening. Ten min-
utes of Al Michaels–narrated agony
ensued as the U.S. had to protect the lead
against an explosive Soviet team that,
at this point, easily still could have won
6–4. Instead, they were shut down as the
flag-waving, “U.S.A.!”-chanting, over-
capacity crowd in the Lake Placid arena
grew ever more frenzied.
When the U.S. won, Brooks didn’t cel-
ebrate with his players on the ice, but left
for the locker room and locked himself in
a bathroom stall and wept.
The game was played at 5 P.M., yet
ABC chose to broadcast it on tape delay
in prime time. Most people didn’t know
in real time what had happened. (Some
of the suspense was killed for me and
other Washington, D.C.–area viewers
when the preview for the local 11 P.M.
news noted in a commercial break that
the U.S. had indeed won.) When word
began to get out about the upset, people
gathered outside the Eruzione home,
singing the national anthem.
The impact of the victory is hard to
fathom. (The gold medal awaited a finalwin against the Finns.) People cried,
they sang, they chanted, they remem-
bered later where they were that night.
Ordinary sports creates an ersatz nation-
alism, with fans feeling a deep connec-
tion to their own team, to its history and
its colors and its past heroes. When
this sports patriotism was combined
with the real thing—especially when
arrayed against an aggressive, malign
rival power, at a time when people were
desperate to feel the satisfactions and
joy of national pride again—the effect
was explosive.
Eruzione has never stopped riding that
wave. He didn’t make it to the NHL like
some of his teammates, instead going out
on the speaking circuit. He and his agent
thought the speaking requests would
inevitably dry up. They never have. And
why should they? Mike Eruzione has
become the custodian of the greatest
sports story ever told. May he keep
retelling it, as long as America believes
in miracles.sensitively, “Well, I guess the coach cut
the right guy.”
Brooks was obsessed with Soviet
hockey and wanted to turn its insights
against it. No more dump-and-chase, the
one-dimensional style dominant in
North America that, in effect, served
constantly to turn the puck over to the
exceptional skaters and passers of the
Soviet team. His team would be physi-
cally tough, but would be able to skate
and pass, too, and be better conditioned
than anyone else, giving it better legs in
the third period.
Brooks told his players that he didn’t
intend to be their friends and stayed true
to his word. The team had a robust exhi-
bition schedule, and when Brooks didn’t
like the effort during a 3–3 tie against the
Norway team, he kept his team on the ice
afterwards, running it through a murder-
ous round of skating drills, even after the
rink attendant had turned off the lights
and left.
In the movie version, Brooks is try-
ing to beat the regionalism out of his
players—they brought their collegerivalries with them—and doesn’t relent
untilEruzione calls outhis nameand town:
“Mike Eruzione. Winthrop, Massachu -
setts.” Who do you play for? Brooks
asks.“The United States of America.”
It’s an affecting scene, and Eruzione
reports that fans are always disappoint-
ed to learn that this exchange didn’t
really happen.
The U.S. team compiled an impressive
41–16–3 record during the exhibition sea-
son. But the Soviets loomed. Since their
loss in 1960, they’d won the gold at every
single Olympics. During this run, their
combined Olympic record was 27–1–1,
and they had outscored the opposition
175–44.
When they played a best-of-three series
against the NHL all-stars in 1979, they
won the decisive third game 6–0.
The U.S. played its own exhibition
against the Soviets at Madison Square
Garden two weeks before the Olympic
Games and, overawed by the legends on
the other end of the ice, got manhandledMike Eruzione has become the custodian of the
greatest sports story ever told. May he keep retelling it,
as long as America believes in miracles.
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