Breaking Down a Miracle on Ice Movie: The Commies are Coming

Ladies and gentlemen of the blog universe, I’m pleased to announce that I’ll finally be resuming the project that I started about analyzing the original Miracle on Ice movie, which I began approximately a century ago. For those of you (like me) who might have forgotten that this undertaking even existed back in the distant past when dinosaurs were still roaming the planet, I’m delighted to not-so-subtly remind you that I left off right before the pre-Olympic game against the Soviets at Madison Square Garden.

This segment begins with the famous skyline of New York City, which is always kind of depressing for me to see because it reminds me of how that classic image was forever marred by homicidal terrorists (who are my generation’s version of Communists, basically). Then the camera zooms in on Madison Square Garden’s billboard, which proclaims in neon lights that there’s the USA v.s. USSR hockey preview at 7:30 PM.

Along the sidewalk, there is a group of angry folk who apparently have nothing better to do with their wretched existences than wave around signs blaring messages about how Russia should leave Afghanistan alone.

Obviously, these politically charged people harbor under the delusion that guys like Valeria Kharmalov were calling the shots for Soviet policy. That’s about as hysterical as in the modern age when hockey fans and people in general actually cared about Pavel Datsyuk’s and Alex Ovechkin’s opinions about gay propaganda policies in Sochi. They’re athletes, not politicians, people. I don’t want to listen to them talk about matters of state; I just want to watch them dangle goalies out of jockstraps and score a million goals. Politics are boring. That’s why I never want to listen to an interview where Crosby discusses his feelings about abortion or Stamkos outlines his views on the madhouse that is the Middle East.

In short, I just wish the sign-waving idiots outside Madison Square Garden would concuss themselves with their placards and leave the rest of us normal people who don’t give a hoot about politics alone. Then the world would be a better place.

A dude I believe is Kaminsky and another agent exit a taxi, observing, “Would you look at this? Sometimes it isn’t a sport or a business. It’s an international incident.”

It’s good to see that one of the characters in the movie shares my jaded perspective on politics and all those who march around waving signs with personal political views outside entertainment venues. This is why you’re better off going to the Prudential Center to watch the Devils than to Madison Square Garden to watch the Rangers. Not only is the arena better, but there are a lot less idiots waving political signs out front. Heck, I’ve never seen an idiot waving a political sign outside the front of the Prudential Center, so there you go.

Moving along with the show (such as it is), the other agent asks, “What would you give to be part of our team tonight? To be out on the ice when the Russians skate out?”

Since the Red Army and US Olympic team match-up was billed as a David-Goliath game, I think that’s kind of like asking a resident of Boston back in the 1770’s what he would have given to be in the line of fire during the Boston Massacure. I mean the answer is clearly:

The other guy, plainly lying through his teeth, answers “a lot, a lot.” As Kaminsky and his companion begin to make their way through the sign-waving nuts, a third agent (the one whom I noticed earlier resembles an Oompa Loompa) hops out of a taxi, hollering Kaminsky’s name to get his attention.

The Oompa Loompa man after dashing up to his fellow agents inquires how their boys are doing and is told that they are doing just fine. I guess “fine” is at the extreme low end of the emotional spectrum now.

Ramping his obnoxious powers up to maximum, the Oompa Loompa man comments, “Well, I guess this is what Brooks was gambling on.” When one of his agent companions correctly points out that this isn’t Lake Placid, the undeterred Oompa Loompa man continues with pure pompousness, “The teams are the same, George. What do you say we meet afterwards? Loser buys the drinks.”

This is an example of the sort of unfair spots gambling that I just can’t condone, since it’s simply unjust to have the person who is totally depressed after seeing his team lose buy the drinks. It should be the person whose team won who funds the drinking, so that everyone feels like a winner, and the poor soul who just had to watch their team stink can take a sip and proclaim:

The Oompa Loompa cackles to himself like the Wicked Witch of the West before the scene mercifully changes to the US Olympic team streaming onto the ice as the announcer declares, “The US Olympic team coming out onto the ice at Madison Square Garden for a very important game tonight against the USSR, the final match-up before next week’s Olympics begins at Lake Placid, and this is for the most part a team of college kids against a team that demolished NHL All-Stars a year ago this week at the Garden.” Well, at the time of the Lake Placid Olympics Slava Fetisov was only like twenty-two and the average age for the US Olympic team was twenty-two so that makes this match-up totally even, right? I mean:

The announcer explains that there will be an opening face-off at center ice between Neal Broten and Valeri Kharmalov. Since in real life it was actually Mark Johnson who took the opening face-off against Kharmalov, I can’t help but wonder why the director felt it was necessary to needlessly alter this detail to make this movie just a little less historically accurate. Whatever. It gives me an excuse to say hello to Neal.

Neal manages to win the face-off and the US carries the puck into the Soviet zone, and what follows is just a bunch of slow skating and excruciatingly bad passing by the actors that makes me want to gouge my eyes out. Watching these actors play hockey looks like what I imagine a herd of Bambis would resemble if forced to skate and pass a puck around for the first time. (For the record, doing this to deer is not recommended, since it probably constitutes animal cruelty.) This movie must have been on such a shoe-string budget that they couldn’t afford to hire actors who had ever even seen a person skate.

The US team turns the puck over to the Soviets, and then the audience has to endure the torture that is watching the actors in this film butcher the artistic and skilled hockey that the Red Army team was renowned for, which makes me feel sick to my stomach, so:

To try to convey why I’m so nauseous, I’ll just explain that Pavel Datsyuk, who is basically pure poetry in motion when he plays hockey, is probably the contemporary Russian who best depicts the traditional Soviet style of play. Lots of slick passing. Smooth skating. Lovely stick handling around entire NHL teams. An uncanny ability to predict what will happen next in a game. An understanding of how to navigate his own zone. So basically by turning Kharmalov into Bambi on skates, what the director did was even worse than having Pavel Datsyuk, the man who splits defenses like this:

played in a movie by this dude who can’t even play keep-away with Datsyuk:

because at least that guy played college hockey. So, yeah, next time Valeri Kharmalov appears in a film can we not insult his memory by having some Pee Wee play him? Thanks.

The actor playing Valeri Kharmalov manages to bumble his way through a series of passes that results in a goal where Guttenberg makes a pathetic save attempt that resembles an interpretive chicken dance. It’s like he was thinking:

Over at the bench, Herb paces and is probably internally screaming:

The camera then flashes to the scoreboard, which kind of looks like it was constructed with cardboard by a bunch of third graders for a book report project, so viewers have visual confirmation that the Soviets are indeed up 1-0.

After the US team finally regains control of the puck, they have a breakaway attempt, which Tretiak deflects with a kick save that looks like he’s either fall-down drunk or else has simply never blocked a hockey puck before. Clearly the director just drugged and dragged in some random guy of the street to play Tretiak, Hall of Fame goaltender. Having seen this sad sequence of Hollywood hockey ineptitude, I can only mutter:

There is more bungling with the puck, mainly by the actors playing the Soviets, and then Guttenberg makes a pathetic lunge to try to stop the puck before it finds the back of his net, giving the Soviets a two goal lead. Guttenberg in goal is like:

More insult to the game of hockey follows, interspersed with Herb barking at his players from the bench to “watch the gaps; watch the gaps,” and then Krutov manages to score basically from the blue line. Since his team is making zero effort on offense or defense, I wouldn’t be surprised if Jim Craig was mentally checking out of this game, remarking mentally:

Following the camera flashing to the cardboard scoreboard to beat into the audience’s collective brains that the Soviets are up 3-0, the commentator states some gibberish about the US needing to prevent this game from becoming a rout. What a fool. If a hockey game is 3-0 and the first period is nowhere close to over, it’s already a rout. That was true even during the ‘80s when scoring was ridiculously inflated compared to the modern era where players are supposed to at least look like they’re trying to be defensively responsible rather than just play fire wagon hockey.

Predictably, the Soviets score another goal, and, forgetting that as captain he should probably pretend to be at least a little bit supportive of his teammate, Rizzo, as the crowd breaks into boos, skates up to Jim and asks in the breathless tone of a sugar-high toddler, “Man, did you see that goal?” Watching this unfold, I wonder for the millionth time:

Given that Rizzo has been doing a disappearing act all night, Jim would probably be one-hundred percent justified punching him square in the jaw, or else trolling him next time he made a save by exclaiming:

Electing to be a bit more subtle, Jim replies witheringly, “Yeah, I was there. Remember?” You tell him, Jimmy. That’s the spirit. Teach your captain some manners.

Totally not picking up how rude he is being, Rizzo punches Jimmy in the shoulder, responding, “I’m sorry, Jimmy, but class is class.” Basically, Rizzo is saying:

Only he is completely wrong, since he just showed all the social grace of a bull raging around a china shop.

Over at the bench, Herb calls out a line change, and the Coneheads climb onto the ice. Then Herb demands if Rizzo has gotten all the Russian autographs that he wanted. Rizzo, continuing to be an idiot, wants to know if Herb is talking to him. Herb confirms that he is indeed talking to Mike, the team captain. Perhaps concussion tests should be run on Rizzo. He seems a bit mentally impaired right now.

The pathetic excuse of a hockey game carries on, and when the guy who plays Neal makes a terrible drop pass, there is a comically slow breakaway by the Soviets, who unsurprisingly score high on Craig’s glove side. This game for the US team is the equivalent of this:

There is more booing by the crowd and flashing to the cardboard cutout scoreboard, and then Rizzo, the stupid captain, manages to score, so the tally is slightly less lopsided. Maybe if he had bothered to show up earlier in the game it wouldn’t have been such a rout, but he was probably too busy practicing insults he could hurl at his goalie to show up to the game on time.

Any momentum the US might have gained by Rizzo’s goal is squashed when the Soviets tally again. Then the game goes from bad to worse when Jack O’Callahan, after hitting a Soviet player against the boards, is rammed from behind by another Soviet player, and crumbles to the ice. There is a dramatic swell of music as he is carried from the ice, and readers will just have to wait until next time to hear what damage has been wrought on poor OC.

Breaking Down a Miracle on Ice Movie: Nobody is Prepared for This

The next segment of the movie begins in a fascinating fashion with Herb staring at a bulletin board with his players’ names and faces written on index cards. I guess he’s making the final decisions about who is going to Lake Placid and who is going home, but it is also possible that he is just being an evil genius like the Grinch:

Literally a second later (because this movie was written by someone with severe attention issues, obviously) the scene shifts to a good luck and farewell party for our Olympic hockey players, as we see a banner wishing them the best in Lake Placid getting strung up on a wall. There is some miscellaneous chatter and laughter before OC knocks on the door to make his grand entrance.

OC hobbles in on crutches, and it’s kind of weird since we didn’t get to see the Madison Square Garden game where he got injured, but I suppose that spares us the agony of seeing these actors attempt to play hockey, so I won’t even complain about that. Instead, I’ll just comment on how it deviates from the timeline in a non-judgmental way, since this blog is a safe space for everyone, even incompetent directors.

Cox, who opened the door to admit OC, demands in the timelessly sympathetic manner of hockey players everywhere, “What happened?” In case, you’re wondering people in the hockey world aren’t traditionally very understanding about injuries, probably because hockey is the only pro sport where the team is literally down a man and can’t bring in a replacement if someone leaves mid-game owing to an injury. Basically, in hockey, it’s your fault you got hurt, and you’re probably exaggerating your injury like the total diver and wimp you are, so buck up and play, partner, unless you’re in a coma or something. If you doubt me on this and think I’m just making this stuff up to meet a word count, you can read about it in Ken Dryden’s consensus best hockey book ever entitled the Game, which is highly recommended for anyone who wants to understand how crazy goaltenders are and what it was like to be part of the Montreal Canadiens’ dynasty in the ‘70s.

OC says something sarcastic about how he fell down in the bathtub, and Dave Christian comes over not so much to help OC into a chair but to pepper him with questions about when he will return in the customary method of shaming the walking wounded back into playing on one leg if necessary. Once the besieged OC explains that he doesn’t know whether he’ll be able to play and Doc apparently doesn’t know about his injury, he settles into a chair with no thanks to the socially-impaired Dave.

Eventually, some members of the team overcome their years of hockey training in callous indifference to injuries, as they finally, in their words, realize, “Jack is hurt!” Someone also shouts out the bright idea of getting something for Jack’s foot. Ken Morrow grabs a seat to prop up OC’s leg, but Dictator Dave waves him off, ruling that “a pillow is good.” Of course it is; anything more than a pillow might make OC soft like a European or something.

OC says that a pillow is fine, but shows the slippery slope of an injury leading to softness by making the unreasonable request for another one.

Dave hands the crutches over to Ken Morrow and then asks if OC would like a drink. Patting his stomach, OC responds that he’d like a drink.

While everyone is finally attending to OC, Herb is back in his office, agonizing over what we can only presume are the final cuts. If that’s the case, I give everybody reading this blog fair warning that:

As I’m gathering up my pillows and Puffs, Herb removes some more index cards from his board and takes a sip of coffee. At least I assume its coffee. It could be something stronger, since Herb might be feeling:

Since our ADD director can’t focus on any scene for more than two seconds, we’re back at the party, where Jim and Silky are arriving in all their splendor. This is turning into quite the powwow.

Proving he may be the only guy on the team with a normal range of emotions, Jim comes over to ask OC how he is doing. Meanwhile, Ken Morrow is over at the drinks table, taking a sip of the cocktail that he spits back out like a total backwoods buffoon.

“Hey, Cox, what is this stuff, huh?” Ken demands. “Super or unleaded?”

“Cranberry juice and beer,” answers Cox as if this were a completely normal mix. Not a single hockey player has ever received any socialization whatsoever in this movie. Then Cox puts on this frankly psychopathic smile and adds, “Great color, huh?”

At this rate, next thing we know one of these guys will be drinking bourbon from a stranger’s shoe on a dare. Please be prepared to cover your eyes at a moment’s notice if you’re sensitive to reading about such inebriated exploits.

Putting down the punch with an eye roll, Ken remarks facetiously, “Terrific.”

Back in his den of doom, Herb is tinkering with the roster, and I hope I still have time to get ready for the final cuts, because:

The phone rings, and Herb barks into the receiver, “Yeah?” Gosh, Herb, you are so impolite. Didn’t anyone teach you how to answer a phone properly? Obviously not, because that’s not how you do it.

Moving along with another of the movie’s one-sided phone conversations that serve as info dumps and plot devices, Herb says, “Oh, hello, Keminsky…Yeah, yeah, I’m down to the final twenty…In the end, it wasn’t much choice who to cut…You’re right. The Russians are the last game we play before Lake Placid, so I might as well go along with my final choices…Yeah, bye.”

Okay, this phone conversation confirms that Herb is indeed making his final roster cuts. More importantly, though, it tells us that this party with a hurt OC takes place before the Madison Square Garden game against the Red Army team. That means this movie has OC getting injured at some other time. Weird. Maybe he got into a bar fight or something. This film drives me a bit crazy. Every time I give the director and script writer some credit for logic, the whole movie nose-dives gleefully back into lunacy. Ick. Perhaps everybody was intoxicated from cranberry juice and beer cocktails when working on this project. That’s about the only sane explanation for all these nonsensical plot decisions.

Herb hangs up on Keminsky and glances at the bulletin board one final time before the scene shifts back to the raging party with the beer and cranberry juice punch, where Rizzo has just entered to exuberant greetings from his celebrating teammates.

As Rizzo shuts the door, OC calls for him to come over to the chair. Holding his arm out like Adam reaching for God on the Sistine Chapel, OC implores, “Come here! Come here! Quick, Rizzie! Give me your hand!”

When Rizzo hurries over because the poor dude sounds like he is a dying man in need of a priest, OC snatches his hand and places it on his forehead. Rising after a second, he proclaims with exaggerated excitement, “It’s working. Oh, I can walk. I can walk.” Everyone realizes that they’re a victim of a classic OC prank or else Rizzo is Jesus Cat in disguise:

In all seriousness, we obviously learn here that OC wasn’t injured and just pretending to be to scare the daylights out of his teammates. While it’s nice to see OC’s playfully malicious personality on display in this film (especially since OC’s personality is one of the few things this movie gets right, so the director and script writers should play it to the hilt), I find this decision to have OC pretend to be hurt kind of ill-advised. It’s clumsy foreshadowing that actually removes some of the drama from the impending and real injury that OC is going to suffer at Madison Square Garden and makes it almost seem like poetic justice that OC got really hurt just to learn that injuries aren’t joking matters.

To explore what I mean and have an excuse to mention (because any blog post is ten times better with them) Steve Yzerman (who has only gotten more handsome with age, especially when he gives one of his rare grins that show off his crow’s feet) and Steven Stamkos (who is probably the happiest person ever to play pro hockey), let’s use a modern comparison from Team Canada 2014. Putting on our imagination hats instead of our thinking caps, let’s pretend that someone was going to do a movie on Team Canada’s path to gold in Sochi, and that brain trust decided to have Stamkos hobble, clutching his leg, into Yzerman’s office in Tampa sometime in late October, so we can have the following dramatic exchange:

Stamkos: Ouch, my leg! I’ve never been in pain like this before, not even when I took that slapshot to the face during that playoff series against Boston.

Yzerman: What did you do to yourself?

Stamkos: I didn’t do it! The goalpost I crashed into did. No need to sound so accusing.

Yzerman: You crashed into a goalpost? How stupid are you? They don’t move, you know.

Stamkos: Not true. The goalpost moved, but just not as much as my leg did. My leg got all twisted like Gumby’s. It was kind of gross to watch.

Yzerman: Well, back when I played, the goalposts didn’t move around so much, so we knew better than to collide with them like bumper cars.

Stamkos: Back when you played, some guys didn’t wear helmets.

Yzerman: Only at the dawn of my storied NHL career. Anyway, how long will it take your leg to heal?

Stamkos: I don’t know. Probably a couple of months or a full season. I haven’t spoken to the doctors yet.

Yzerman: Why the heck not? Why didn’t you go to the trained medical professionals first instead of to me?

Stamkos: Because they would have seen instantly that I was pulling their legs, and that wouldn’t be a very funny prank.

Yzerman: I can’t believe that you’re getting an average annual salary of 7.5 million dollars, and you think this is an appropriate use of your time. Why don’t you get lost and do something useful like practicing your face-offs? Your face-off percentage stats are just ghastly, but you still insist on calling yourself a center.

Then, in early November, this happens in Boston Garden:

As an audience, of course, we’d feel sorry that Steven Stamkos, one of the few Canadians in the NHL who shows an actual personality beyond clichés in interviews on a regular basis, went down with a freak accident to his tibia during an Olympic year, but we’d also wonder why the directors took away some of the drama with such dumb foreshadowing and why they made Stamkos seem like such a jerk with a cavalier attitude to injuries. Fortunately, in the real world, this didn’t happen, so we could all feel weepy when Stamkos couldn’t go to the Olympics and babble on about how nobody had ever wished anything bad on Stamkos since he’s a guy everyone in the hockey world loves. Literally, I’m not exaggerating when I say everyone loves the dude, because Chara, the Big Bad Wolf defenseman, actually sent him a text wishing him well after his tibia surgery, and Claude Julien came by to visit him in the hospital (probably to assure him that if he signed with the Bruins as an unrestricted free agent, the offending goalpost could be removed from the Garden).

Anyhow, now that I’ve used a contemporary comparison to demonstrate how awful the scriptwriting and directing in this film is when it comes to robbing emotions from what should be key dramatic points of the movie, I apologize for dragging the two Stevens from Tampa into this mess, but I’m confident with sufficient therapy, they should make a full recovery and go back to being their well-adjusted selves, so moving along with the film, OC dances around, proclaiming how healed he is. Then the phone rings, and it’s about as menacing as that scene from Killer in the House:

Rizzo picks up the phone and answers somewhat correctly by saying, “Hello.” The partiers continue to make a ton of noise around him, so he covers the mouthpiece and asks, “Would you guys keep it down?”

When nobody responds to this request and everyone keeps talking at the top of their voices, Rizzo hollers, “Will everybody shut up please? It’s Herb.” Maybe somebody should teach Rizzo that adding “please” doesn’t make “shut up” polite any more than prefacing a statement that someone looks like a killer whale with “no offense” makes it sensitive.

Since the mention of Herb is enough to silence everybody, Rizzo talks into the mouthpiece again, saying, “Yeah, Herb. Uh, yeah, yeah, they are. Just a minute.” Someone should explain to these scriptwriters that not every piece of dialogue has to include one or two “yeah.” It’s getting grating to hear, honestly.

Rizzo calls over his shoulder, “Cox! It’s for you.”

Cox wends his way over to the phone, which he takes from Rizzo, saying in a shaky voice, “Hi…I think I know what it’s about, Herb. There’s no need to come to your office…I understand…Yeah…Thanks for everything…Yep…Good luck to you, too…I mean it; you’re gonna win the gold, Herb…Sure, hang on.”

That was probably one of the most awkward phone conversations in Olympic hockey history right up there with that time Steve Yzerman had to call Marty St. Louis to warn him that he didn’t make the 2014 Team Canada roster, and Marty began a tantrum that lasted months by demanding a trade. Seriously, Marty St. Louis is the whiniest Olympian in hockey history, because he is a brat who continues to cry incessantly even when he gets whatever he wants, and I spent the whole Olympics hoping Babcock would punch him in the face and exclaim, “Sorry. Didn’t see you there, because you’re just so small.”

Oh, look, I’m digressing again. What’s really important here is that Ralph Cox, an amateur athlete who will never have the accolades that Marty St. Louis does, handled the cut with maturity and was even able to wish Herb well even though he had to be in a ton of emotional pain. Way to go, Cox! You’re a winner who deserves a round of tearful applause, so here you go, pal:

Cox passes the phone to Hughes, who takes it and says, “Yeah, Herb…Yeah, I’ll be right over.” Then Hughes hangs up the phone, and my heart is all torn up, so:

All the boys look like kicked puppies, so I’m going to end this post here, so I can heal my bruised heart before moving onto the next section.

Breaking Down a Miracle on Ice Movie: Looking for Lake Placid

After bidding a sad adieu to Les Auge (whose humorous presence will be missed in this film), the action moves to the team bus traveling down a mostly deserted, dark highway at night. The camera pans in on Coach Patrick and Herb snoozing in the front row, and it’s good to see Herb doing something as normal and non-confrontational as sleeping. Perhaps it will lower his blood pressure.

As the bus moves along, Pav’s guitar strums the tune to Simon and Garfunkel’s classic tune about the New Jersey turnpike and its endless bumper-to-bumper traffic jams, and he sings us “America” in a melancholic voice:

Once Pav finishes his singing, Jim notes to Rizzo, who is sitting next to him, “I’m just looking for one small town in America, Lake Placid.” That must have been harder to do before the days of Google Maps, so that’s quite a quest.

Rizzo responds playfully, “Lake Placid? I’ve never heard of it. Don’t worry, Jimmy. If it’s got less than ten thousand people, Brooks has got it on the schedule.”

The guy behind Jim whose face I can’t read well in the dark bus (so I don’t know who he is, basically), comments, “I personally don’t think the place exists. Probably just Brooks’ way of getting a hockey team together.” I think he should adjust his tin foil hat because the conspiracy theory reception isn’t too good, but he’d probably just assure me:

The person behind Rizzo puts in, “You know what I think? We all died and went to hockey players’ hell.” Nah, hockey players’ hell wasn’t invented until John Tortorella (who really should have an award for the biggest coaching meltdown given in his honor, or, really, disgrace each year) began his NHL coaching career. For proof of what I mean, check out this charming video of Tortorella roasting his players alive:

Remember that’s what Tortorella does in front of rolling cameras. He’s probably even more of a Grade A jerk in private, but moving along from Tortorella’s Broadway productions because he’s now been fired by two different NHL franchises in two consecutive seasons which makes him not particularly relevant to the hockey world anymore (thank you, hockey gods), let’s get back to our 1980 adventure.

Some teammate from the front of the bus, shouts over his shoulder, “Hey, will you guys shut up? Some civilized people up front want to get some sleep.” Come on, man. A team bus is meant to be loud, so that tells the audience:

At this point, Jim decides to open up and start relating his whole life story to Pav, saying, “You know, when I was a kid, I never slept. Not a lot. Used to get up at four o’clock in the morning to play hockey. My mother would be in the kitchen fixing breakfast. She was healthy then. Anyway, I used to play with the older guys on the pond. My kid brother plays there now. The older guys had cars, so I’d slip downstairs and stay near the heater to keep warm and close to the door so I could hear the horn of the car. It really felt good being the youngest allowed to play.” This is cute, because I know that Jim liked to slip his mother notes in the morning and stuff.

Pav points out, “Except they made you play in net.” Ha. That’s funny because my brother is a goalie, but I’ve always said that the only reason he became one was for the masks. Goalies get to customize their masks, which I suspect is one of those bones the hockey community threw them because otherwise no one would be willing to take that awful job. (If you’re the goalie, you can make thirty saves and still get booed for the one you miss, and also you wear so much protective equipment that if you want to hug a teammate you risk suffocating him; goalie fights are like two men attempting to dance with beach balls glued all over their bodies). Basically, the thing is, if you weren’t a very odd person before you became a goalie, you would be after a few seasons of it, and it shows. Some of those goalie masks look like creations serial killers would make out of their victims (looking at you, Carey Price). Some look like the ultimate foray into geekdom (Kari Lehtonen! Peter Budaj!). I love that every goalie’s psyche is right out there on display. (And, in the case of the one that looks like brains: way to take that literally.) Gives you something to analyze during breaks in the action.

“Nah,” Jim answers. “That was just when I was in high school. They supplied the goalie’s equipment. Besides, my mother figured that goal was the safest place.” That’s odd. I thought Jimmy was pretty much always a goaltender even when he played pond hockey as a kid, because I remember him saying somewhere that he wanted to play but didn’t understand all the rules, so being a goalie was simple since all he had to do was keep the puck out of the net. I’m going to trust my memory more than this film. In short, movie:

Speaking of playing with older guys, Bah remarks, “When I was a freshman I played for Duluth against the ’76 squad. Man, I thought those guys were ten feet tall.”

“Hey, Bah,” Buzz teases, “tell them how you scored the winning goal against us in overtime.” That sounds like a cool moment. Was it as awesome as TJ Oshie’s shootout goal against Russia?

“Yeah, hare-brain,” retorts Bah, “for the four-hundred and seventy-fifth time.” Everyone laughs uproariously, as Bah continues, “Migraine headache number two.”

“What’s number one?” shouts somebody from the front of the bus (and the poor lighting in this scene is driving me nuts, because it makes it even harder to identify characters who all look the same).

Being all sociable for once, Jimmy jokes, “ ‘Where’s Brooks? O’Callahan’s looking for him.’” That’s actually pretty funny, because it gives me a mental image of OC going after Herb like Roy going after Perry in this hilarious gif:

Now I just wish the movie would show Herb and O’Callahan at each other’s throats. That would be better than ten million renditions of Herb giving Rizzo and Jimmy a hard time. Oh, well, we can’t have everything we want in life, so moving along with the film, Rizzo decides to end the fun by warning, “Hey, you guys better take it easy. He’ll hear you. Let’s get some sleep.” Then Rizzo curls up in his chair like a total baby, and the bus rolls along.

Not actually going to sleep, Rizzo tells Jimmy in a quiet voice, “Hey, Jimmy. All that stuff is behind you now. Got to think to the future.” Okay, Rizzo, I realize you were just trying to be sympathetic there, but you sound like a total moron, since that’s not how the stages of grief work. The stages of grief are: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance, and freaking denial and anger again. Okay, I invented the last bit to make a point, but hear me out. Grief is a process. You don’t get over losing your mother the same way you move beyond losing a sock (never a whole pair, of course) in the washing machine unless you are a sociopath.

“Future?” Jim asks. “Actually, I was thinking about my ma. I guess there’s a connection somewhere.” Of course there is. The connection is in Lake Placid, the place where we’re all looking for…

 

Breaking down a Miracle Movie: Captain and Cut

As those saints among you who have been loyally following my blog now, we last left off with Herb essentially declaring that he would go down with the sinking Olympic team ship. Since that’s been decided, we, of course, need to appoint a captain to steer this sinking ship into an iceberg and to not abandon ship when it does, so stay tuned to see who is the recipient of this honor.

To begin this exciting part of the movie, the boys are in their locker room, and Dave Christian is distributing pieces of paper to everyone so that the team can elect their Olympic captain. Not at all concerned with voter anonymity, the camera zooms in on Bill Baker’s paper, so we can read Rizzo’s name on it.

When questioned about his vote by a peeping teammate (whose face I can’t recognize), Bill explains that a reliable source told him that Herb hates Rizzo the most. The audience can only infer that Bill is apparently so juvenile he believes that the player whom the coach despises the most should automatically be the captain just because it will infuriate the coach the most, which is about as good an argument for Communism as any, since regular people are obviously mentally unequipped to make prudent decisions when determining their own leaders. Also, the audience is free to suspect that Herb (who actually wanted Rizzo to be captain) planted that source just to manipulate Bill’s brain. Careful, Bill, because:

Being all skeptical, Rob asks, “More than O’Callahan?” Now in real life, this line would make sense, because Herb liked to rip into Jack O’Callahan just to make a point to the entire team, rendering it conceivable that the team as a whole might conclude that Herb wasn’t particularly fond of OC, and, by all accounts, Jack and Robbie enjoyed taunting one another, but in the movie world this line is just incongruous with what’s actually been shown thus far.

As of yet, Herb has only directed specific tirades to Rizzo and Jim Craig, as the script writers went to great pains to establish in the previous two sections, so if teammates were to conclude that Herb had any extreme rancor toward certain players, based on what the movie has shown, they would have to believe that Herb hated Rizzo or Jimmy the most. If the movie wants us to believe that Herb seems to hate OC, show him ripping into OC the way he does Rizzo or Jimmy. Don’t just have this awkwardly thrown in line of dialogue about it when the comment is at total odds with everything the dialogue and action has demonstrated in the last couple of scenes. I want to like this line since it is spoken by Robbie about OC, but because of how the rest of the script leading up to it is written, I instead have to ask the script writers for the umpteenth time:

The camera pans across the room to focus on Pav just in time for the audience to hear him ask Buzz, who is sitting next to him on the bench, whether Buzz wants his vote. Buzz chuckles and answers, “Hey, look, I can’t tell you how to vote, but I’m voting for Rizzie.” This is also a sort of weird reply, since I doubt players would have been allowed to vote for themselves, as that would result in a fiasco where everybody voted for himself and there would still be no captain. However, it does establish that people are voting for Rizzo as more than just a joke, which I guess is respectful of his leadership abilities at least. I’m glad that it was only some of the team that apparently voted for Rizzo for the lolz of seeing him clash with Herb. That makes this whole captaincy thing feel much more official.

Moving across the locker room again, Jim is telling the guy sitting next to him to give him a look at his ballot. This dialogue sounds like we’re in a third grade classroom voting for class president, honestly. In keeping with this childish vein, the dude next to Jim retorts, “Hey, I don’t see you flashing your ballot around.”

Smiling slightly, Jim persists, “Come on.” Surrendering, the guy opens the ballot, and Jim reads Rizzo’s name in an incredulous tone. Then when the guy next to him demands to see his ballot, Jim reveals with a grin that he voted for Rizzo as well. What a clever and unpredictable joke brought to us courtesy of the scriptwriters. Jeez, no wonder USA Hockey appoints captains and associate captains for Olympic teams now rather than letting players vote. It spares us scenes like this imagined satirical one from the 2014 squad:

Dan Bylsma: Welcome to Sochi, gentlemen. USA Hockey asks me to remind you all not to flush the toilet paper down the toilets, as it might make the pipes explode, and to reiterate that the yellow stuff coming out of the sinks isn’t Gatorade, so drink the Dasani we’ve provided instead of anything spewing out of the faucet. We don’t want any illnesses because then I might have to remove Faulk from the storage closet I’ve locked him in for the duration of the tournament. Now, we’ve got to elect ourselves a captain who, of course, will be better than whiny old Sidney Crosby, so please write somebody’s name who isn’t your own on the paper I’ve just passed out.

Zach Parise (in an undertone to Ryan Suter): I’m voting for you, buddy, because we’re bros from our days with the National Development Team.

Ryan Suter: Me too. Well, I’m not voting for me. I’m voting for you, but, other than that, we’re twins.

Ryan McDonagh to Derek Stepan: Hey, Step, who’s got your vote?

Derek Stepan: Probably Marty St. Louis. You can’t go too wrong with a veteran player like him, right?

Ryan McDonagh: Isn’t he on the Canadian team?

Derek Stepan: Duh. Do you even read the news, Mac Truck? It was this huge scandal when Yzerman left him off the Canadian roster for the second time in eight years, and he wasn’t appeased by being the injury replacement for Stamkos, so he’s been demanding a trade to the Rangers, which is why he’s a candidate for the Rangers’ captaincy once Callahan’s been traded for trying to earn more money than he’s worth.

Ryan Callahan: What’s this about earning more money than I’m worth? Do we get paid for this Olympic gig?

Zach Parise: Only if we get sponsors like Chobani. Speaking of Chobani, can you believe it isn’t served in the Olympic dining halls? How am I going to get my calcium if not from a morning dose of my favorite brand of Greek yogurt? Oh, and I’m a totally uninspired hockey player unless I get my daily value of calcium, so this is a serious concern.

Ryan McDonagh to Derek Stepan: I wasn’t talking about the Rangers. I was talking about the US Olympic team we’re on right now.

Derek Stepan: Oh, yeah. My bad. I guess I’ll vote for you since we played college together at the University of Wisconsin and everything.

Ryan McDonagh: I’ll return the favor by voting for you. Badgers forever!

Cam Fowler: Coach, am I allowed to vote for Captain Crunch? Sugary cereals are my favorite.

Dan Bylsma: Um, out of curiosity, Cam, how old are you, anyway?

Cam Fowler: Twenty-two, which means I’m the perfect age for a second childhood that I should enjoy because the next thing I have to look forward to is a midlife crisis that probably won’t happen until I’m forty and retired from pro hockey.

Dan Bylsma (massaging his temples): No, you can’t vote for Captain Crunch because he’s not on this team.

Cam Fowler (pouting): You didn’t say we had to vote for someone on the team. You just said that we couldn’t vote for ourselves. It’s not fair to change the rules midway through an election even if we are in Russia.

Dan Bylsma: Fine. You can vote for Captain Crunch, but nobody else will, so it doesn’t even matter.

Patrick Kane: You know who else no one will vote for because he doesn’t matter? Jonathan Toews. He’s the worst captain ever, and nobody likes him. I hope the media reports that I said that, because that will really steam him, and an angry Toews is an entertaining, for-once-not-boring Toews.

Dustin Brown: Can I knock out Toews’ kneecaps? That would be really entertaining.

Ryan McDonagh: Oh, shut up. Everyone respects Toews, and nobody respects you. I’d call you a cheapshot artist but that’s more of a compliment than you deserve, so I’ll just say you’re a dirty hockey player, and I’m having a mounting urge to crosscheck you.

Dan Bylsma: Knock it off, you two. We’re all on the same team here. Save it for the Stanley Cup Finals.

Ryan McDonagh: Does that mean that Pittsburg is planning another embarrassing playoff exit to a lower seed?

Dan Bylsma: We don’t even need to plan them. Embarrassing playoff exits just happen to Penguins naturally.

Justin Faulk (entering from the storage closet): Can I vote for team captain?

Dan Bylsma: God, Justin, don’t startle me like that! My ticker can’t handle it. Anyway, what are you doing out of that closet?

Justin Faulk: I was kicked out by the janitors. They want to convert it to a bathroom by installing five toilets and no partitions.

Dan Bylsma: That’s disgusting. Everyone, make a mental note not to use that room. Well, Justin, you can’t vote, since you aren’t really on the team in my opinion, but you can collect the ballots. (Once the ballots have been assembled.) Um, T.J., not to sound accusatory, but what demon possessed you to write your name ten times?

T.J. Oshie: Sorry, Coach. Just practicing my autograph.

Dan Bylsma: Very smart, since that’s the only form of writing hockey players need to know to make it big in the NHL. Don’t worry. We’ll just use your ballot as the line-up for when we get into a shootout with Russia or something.

T.J. Oshie: Good joke, but I’m not dumb enough to fall for it, because you can’t use the same person over and over in a shootout.

Dan Bylsma: Not in the NHL, but in international hockey you can, and the Olympics is international hockey. I can use you ten times in a row in a shootout if I want to…

T.J. Oshie: Okay, now you’re taking this joke a little too far.

Dan Bylsma: You say that now, but wait until you see how much farther I can carry it on the largest stage.

So, anyway, thank God we were spared the sight of that on the NHL network, but we’ll have to go back to the Miracle on Ice film now that bit of comedy has passed, so we’re returning to the locker room, where Jim is asking Rizzo who he voted for captain. In response, Rizzo lifts his paper to show Buzz Schneider’s name. Perhaps Rizzo and Buzz are developing a bromance. I hope that Les Auge doesn’t get too jealous, since that would just be uncomfortable and sad.

Upon reading Buzz’s name, Jim wrinkles his nose and rolls his eyes. I guess he expected Rizzo to be a big enough egotist to vote for himself or something.

The scene shifts to Rizzo sitting on a sofa, talking into a phone, saying in his half of the conversation, “Kevin! Yeah, it’s me—Mike. I’m all right. How are you doing? Good. Look, is my dad there? Oh, no, no, that’s okay. Uh, listen. When he comes in, just tell him I was elected captain. Yeah. No, that doesn’t mean Brooks still can’t cut me. Look, all right, Kevin, do me another favor. Call Ma and tell her and the rest of the family, will you? And tell her to let Donna know, too. She wasn’t home, either. Yeah, that’s very funny. Okay. Good to talk to you. All right.” After that, he hangs up the phone without saying good-bye, because he is a male, after all, and everyone knows that all men are socially incompetent on the telephone. It’s like a law of nature, and I’m not sexist; I’m right.

This movie has an obsession with revealing important tidbits through one-sided phone conversations, so to outline the salient points viewers are supposed to glean from this conversation, we learn the following from this telephone exchange: Rizzo has been elected captain of the Olympic team, Herb can still cut him so that tension remains, and Donna is still an essentially useless character for Rizzo to have a romance with that the film insists on inserting in unnecessary ways, since if she wasn’t home, it’s not critical to reference her.

Getting past my annoyance with the waste of film time that Donna represents, it’s time for the US Olympic team to play an exhibition game against the Adirondack Red Wings, which, as the name implies, is the minor league affiliate of the Detroit Red Wings. As a franchise, the Red Wings are, of course, renowned for their excellent drafting, but none of that vaunted prowess is on display in this movie, since all the Adirondack Red Wings play hockey as if they have never picked up a stick or tied skates before. On the plus side, the Detroit Red Wings are famous for being patient with their prospects, which is fortunate since these minor leaguers seem likely to make an NHL impact around Armageddon.

The announcer talks about how the game is still scoreless between the Adirondack Red Wings and the US Olympic team, and how Les Auge is drifting back in his own zone to collect the puck, moving at a speed slower than paint dries, because everyone in this movie skates like they are cutting through molasses rather than ice. Needless to say, I’m doing this as I watch:

Auditioning for the role of Captain Obvious, the announcer remarks on how the Olympians aren’t looking sharp in the game as they dump the puck into the Adirondack end of the rink, where the Adirondack defense manages to collect the puck in the clumsiest possible way and pass it to their center, but Les Auge intercepts the puck and gives it to Neal Broten.

On the bench, Herb yells at his team, “Watch the other side!” That seems a rather ambitious request to make of the Olympians. Based on the way the actors play them, it would be too much to ask for them to skate and locate the puck at the same time, nonetheless keep track of the opposition while performing the aforesaid tasks.

The announcer explains for the slower members of the audience that Herb isn’t at all happy with his squad’s performance as the Adirondack forwards advance with the puck again, and Les Auge, in his bid for MVP, manages to look like a flat-footed moose hit by a tranquilizer gun when he smashes into the boards and fails to hamper the opposing team’s advance.

Given front row access to the US Olympic team’s net, the Adirondack forward pots a goal, and Les Auge should be proud, since he just achieved the feat of making the terrible skating of the Adirondack forward seem magnificent, but then again, everyone on the ice is so bad at skating that they make Corey Perry (he who spends half of every NHL game toppling into the other team’s goalie and falling to his knees in odd poses) look like Scott Niedermayer (who flew across the ice like Jesus walked on water). For those of you who benefit from visual aids, that means this goal:

Looks like this one:

That’s saying something about how awful the caliber of competition in this game is, since I’ve always insisted that:

Regretfully putting aside the topic of how smooth Niedermayer’s skating was and how criminally underrated he sometimes is by people who cannot appreciate gifts from the hockey gods, we’ll resume our analysis of the game between the US Olympic team and the Adirondack Red Wings. Anyway, the Adirondack forward celebrates as if he just netted the Stanley Cup winner, and Steve Guttenberg, who was once again caught at the totally wrong goalpost, is probably thinking:

Back on the bench, Herb barks at Pav to get his line out there, instructing them to skate, play their game, and get back the point by scoring.

Seriously, based on the skill level of these actors, that’s akin to ordering a blind man to paint a landscape or a deaf man to compose a concerto mimicking the sounds of chirping birds.

Les Auge, who is still on the ice in a shift that must have lasted three minutes when the average shift should be about thirty to ninety seconds, is whistled for tripping and sent to the penalty box for two minutes.

At the bench, Herb probably wants to do this:

Since he’s a professional, though, he settles for snapping, “What did I say to Les Auge? Skate! Forget surgery with your stick! Please.” Just because Herb is showing wonderful signs of growth in the manners department by remembering to say please, his team should give him positive reinforcement by offering the thumbs-up and chanting as one:

The announcer comments about how the Red Wings are on the attack, which isn’t exactly surprising, as they are on the power play, and that’s what they should be doing, but they don’t actually manage to score with the man advantage, because the final buzzer sounds with the tally 1-0 in favor of the Adirondack Red Wings. Still, I imagine the Adirondack coaches will be drawing diagrams on their blackboards to illustrate:

In the locker room after the game, Les Auge is cupping his chin in despair, and I think he’s not the only one doing so. I bet the coaching staff of both teams are considering the benefits of arson in blowing up their teams or at least hosting a gigantic fire sale. In fact, after this game, the conversation among the Red Wing executives as overheard by a fly on the wall probably sounded something like this:

First Red Wing Big Wig: So, do you want the good news or the bad news first?

Second Red Wing Big Shot: Give me the good news first. I’m still finishing my caviar and champagne, so I don’t want to throw up.

First Red Wing Big Wig: The good news is that our minor leaguers won against the US Olympians.

Second Red Wing Big Shot: I’m done, and what could possibly be bad when we won?

First Red Wing Big Wig: Our prospect team is in shambles. Gordie Howe would weep if he saw it, and you know how tough he is.

Second Red Wing Big Shot: We can’t go peeing on Gordie’s Hall of Fame legacy. What are we going to do to bring some respectability back to our franchise after tonight’s shameful victory?

First Red Wing Big Wig: I was thinking we should tank for draft picks so we can acquire some actual prospects, because that Stevie Yzerman kid looks vaguely promising. Maybe he can lead us through the desert of playoff failure to the oasis of drinking from the Stanley Cup.

Second Red Wing Big Shot: Sure, and while we’re dreaming, why don’t we also bring in Scotty Bowman and about five Red Army players to help us win the greatest trophy in all sports?

While the Red Wings were hatching their top-secret plan for bringing the Stanley Cup back to Detroit around 1997 (since Detroit always takes the long view), Herb was probably in the hallway calling Murray Williamson, who coached many of the National teams Herb played on and also coached the 1972 Olympic squad that Herb wasn’t on which brought back the silver medal. Bugging their connection, we’d probably hear something like this:

Herb: Murray? Is that you?

Murray: If I say it isn’t, will you hang up and stop bothering me?

Herb: That’s like the king of all stupid questions. When have I ever stopped bothering anyone?

Murray: When you’ve gotten something that you wanted. As soon as you get whatever you’re demanding, you stop bothering your victim.

Herb: Clever of you to notice. You’ll be overjoyed to hear that it’s you I want something from this time around.

Murray: Of course you do. Former players never contact old coaches unless they want something. What do you want from me? A glowing letter of recommendation for a job application?

Herb: Don’t be dumb. I’ve already got a job coaching the ’80 Olympic team. That’s what I’m calling about. I want you to send me a list of all the players from the ’72 squad that have retained their amateur status, because after tonight’s slaughter by the Adirondack Red Wings, my team needs a massive infusion of new blood if you catch my drift.

Murray: Wake up and smell the coffee, Herb. Everyone on that team is either retired from hockey or playing professionally. You’re going to have to forge your own Olympic destiny with your own college boy brats.

Herb: Didn’t you have a sixteen-year-old on your team? Isn’t he still eligible?

Murray: The sixteen-year-old was Mark Howe, and he’s playing in the NHL as a defenseman, telling me that he’s going to be a Hall of Famer and that I played him in the wrong position as a forward. The cheek of some people. If I had a penny for every time I heard something like that from a player, I’d have a mansion on Maui.

Herb: The measurement of how much I don’t care is in the purely theoretical number range, Murray. If you can’t help me, I’m going to hang up now, because I’ve got players to bully in the locker room.

Entering the Olympic team’s locker room, Herb harangues his team: “You guys are playing worse and worse every day. In fact, right now you’re playing as though it’s the middle of next month.”

It’s a slightly modified Brooksism. Excellent. Moving on with his lecture, Herb marches up to Jim and jabs a finger at his goalie’s chest, declaring, “Craig, don’t think your place is guaranteed on this Olympic squad.”

Increasing his volume as he yells at the only other player that he talks to on a routine basis, Herb growls, “Rizzie, skate harder! Oh, and another thing, Mike, control your linemates’ play, because if you can’t, let me know right now before we make the final cuts.” While it’s neat to see a winger rather than a center expected to lead a line for once, everything else about this piece of dialogue makes me cringe, because how does nobody else on the team notice that Herb only talks to Jim and Rizzo, which probably means he’s making a scapegoat of them at least half the time.

Pacing around the locker room, Herb continues, “All right, Patrick will give you travel details, and, Lester, see me after you get dressed.” Eek. Herb is actually addressing someone besides Jim or Rizzo. I have a bad feeling about this…

Seriously, this means that Les Auge is about to get the ax, and I’m devastated because his bromance with Rizzo was sweet (better than the actual romance between Donna and Rizzo, to be honest) and he was one of my favorite characters. What a pity. I’m going to need a moment to dry my eyes with a Kleenex, so:

Staring after Herb as he leaves, Les looks so much like a kicked puppy that my heart breaks into a million pieces. Then, he acts like a martyr, commenting to Mike that it’s going to be all right because it’s all for the best. I half expect him to expound upon how life is a box of chocolates:

Mercifully, we are spared seeing the actual cut (in a case where the script writers are content to do a bit of implication for once rather than a ton of hitting over the head with the obvious), and the scene shifts to Les returning to an emptied locker room in his suit. Realizing Rizzo is waiting for him on a bench, Les crosses the locker room and remarks, “Thanks for waiting.”

Standing up, Rizzo comments in a rather choked voice, “Hey, I, uh, I packed your stuff up for you.”

Gesturing at the bag, Les replies woodenly, “Yeah, thanks.”

“I’m real sorry, Les,” Rizzo adds.

Being all stoic, Les responds, “It was going to happen sooner or later. I meant what I said that night. You got to get it where you can find it, and if there’s nothing for me here, I’d rather find out now.”

Getting angry, Rizzo says, “Come on now, Les. Would you get off it? You’ve got a great future in this game. You’re a player.”

This is breaking my heart, because it turned out that Les Auge was basically a career minor leaguer who only played six NHL games, but at least that makes him more successful than Hugh Jessiman. Still, it’s hard for me to be comforted by even Hugh Jessiman bust jokes, since Les is great, and I want him to succeed in hockey. Les:

That denial is what is causing me so much angst, but Les is more of a realist than I am, because he observes, “But not in the ’80 Olympics. Win.”

With that last command, Les leaves the locker room and walks out onto the ice, where he fires a puck into the net and raises his stick in a lackluster gesture of jubilation. Les is very wise here, since in life you always have to look on the bright side.

On that bittersweet note, Les exits the rink and the film, so we’ll bid adieu to one another until it’s time for me to analyze the next installment.

Breaking Down a Miracle on Ice Film: Don’t Quit Until You’re Fired

When we left off last time, Herb threatened to cut some of the boys if they caused any more trouble. Moving along with the theme of scratching some people off the team, Patrick exits the training center to be greeted with the following shout from the guy I believe is Dave Christian, “Hey, Patrick, you’ve got the names?”

It should also be noted that when he poses this inquiry, he throws his arms about so much that it would be tempting to include this moment in any top ten hockey goal celebration collection. Overacting was definitely the bread and butter of the actors in this movie, I assure you.

Obviously able to hear Dave’s shout, a tangle of boys including OC, Rizzo, Jim, and possibly Silk if my recognition skills aren’t hilariously subpar, stops tossing around a football and charges over to hear Patrick’s answer for themselves as Patrick explains, “Twenty-six names on the bulletin board in the morning. Rizzie, Herb wants to see you.”

Jim and Rizzo swap scared, startled glances, and then Rizzo, handing the football to Jim, replies, “Okay. I’ll see yous later.” Yous? Seriously, scriptwriters, didn’t we learn in third grade not to ever use the word “yous”? Then again, maybe the scriptwriters are still in second grade, which would explain a ton about the dialogue in this film.

I hate to be the grammar police, but what is this garbage assaulting my eardrums? In English, the word “you” functions as both a singular and plural noun. To avoid confusion, I understand the urge to use informal “you” plural addresses such as “you guys” which I’ve been known to indulge in myself in casual conversation or even “y’all” if you’re from the South, but “yous” just sounds ten times more ignorant than either of those even if it’s technically no more wrong. I maintain that college-educated people like Rizzo shouldn’t use the word “yous” unless they want to have their degrees revoked.

As Rizzo disappears to inflict more grammatical errors on Herb, Jim asks, “What? Is he cutting Rizzie?”

Wearing a slyly obtuse smile reminiscent of the Cheshire Cat’s when giving Alice directions in Wonderland, Patrick says, “Hey, I just work here. Who’s buying the beers?”

When the boys shake their heads in disgust and drift away, Patrick, demonstrating that he cannot pick up on non-verbal cues even when they hit him in the face like a sledgehammer, calls after the guys, “Hey, you telling me I’m not welcome?” Yeah, Sherlock, that’s exactly what they’re telling you, because if you came along for drinks, the scene would probably become as awkward as a dinner of semi-phallic food with a family of nudists.

At his most whiny, Patrick tries to mend the fences again, yelling, “Hey, where you guys going to be in case Herb wants to see you later on?” He is informed that the boys will be across the street at Cecil’s, having a few drinks before the cuts. We are spared the sight of any more Patrick wimpiness by a merciful scene transition.

The scene shifts to Herb’s office, where Herb is telling Rizzo, “Think it over, Rizzie. That’s my best advice.”

When Rizzo asks what will happen if he refuses, Herb responds enigmatically, “We’ll see, but if I keep you, it’s going to be for the good of the team.”

Apparently forgetting how to knock, Patrick bursts in, announcing, “I need you, Herb. In private.”

Plainly irritated at the abrupt interruption, Herb demands in a sharp voice, “Can’t it wait?”

With a shrug, Patrick answers, “Just trying to do the job you gave me.”

As he leaves, Rizzo tells Herb that he’ll have to let him know in the morning, which is a perfectly legitimate and sensible response to whatever Herb could have been proposing to him, but since rationality and Herb are like oil and water in this movie, Herb, of course, replies, “You’re making it hard on both of us.”

The scriptwriters decide that we don’t deserve to see the conversation between Herb and Patrick even though it was important enough for Patrick to barge in on Herb’s discussion with Rizzo, so, instead, the scene shifts to a diner, where Rizzo and Les Auge are chatting in a booth.

As we join them, Rizzo confides to Les, “Les, maybe I’ve got no future in hockey. I’m just average, and I’m too small. Maybe I would be better off coaching than playing.”

It’s interesting that this movie chooses to address the idea of Rizzo being an assistant coach for the 1980 team rather than a player on it, because shortly before the Olympics, when Rizzo was in a scoring slump, Herb basically threatened to bring Rizzo along as an assistant coach instead of a player, explaining to Rizzo that he would tell the media that Rizzo had gotten injured in training. Here, obviously, the timeline is altered and Rizzo is given at least the pretense of a choice, though if he refuses, I’m sure he’s wondering how astronomically high the odds of him being cut from the team are.

Not letting Rizzo wallow in the tough market that faces small hockey players, Les Auge points out that Herb has given Rizzo a choice, not cut him. Not exactly encouraged by this, Rizzo argues that Herb could very well end up cutting him later, but if he accepts Herb’s offer of an assistant coaching position, he’ll have the guarantee of being with the team through the Olympics.

Les Auge scoffs, “Yeah, as assistant coach. That’s terrific. That’s a once every four year job.” Actually, it’s not even that. If you’re an assistant coach for one Olympics, there’s no guarantee that you’ll be an assistant coach for the next. The coaching staff can undergo a complete makeover between one Olympics and the next. Being an assistant coach in the Olympics is a one time job, but if you’re savvy you could probably parlay that experience into another more permanent coaching job elsewhere.

Rizzo expresses this last notion, claiming that if he accepts the position of assistant coach for the Olympics, he could probably get a job as an assistant coach at some college when the Olympics are completed.

Aggravated, Les Auge explodes, “Oh, come on. Wake up! You’re a hockey player! Let me tell you something. Smart guys hang in until the end. If you have any hope in hell of playing, just stay with it.” Geez, I’m feeling inspired myself now. Perhaps Les Auge was the one who should have pursued a career in motivational speaking…

Leaning forward, Les Auge continues, “You know, baseball and football. There you’re talking about big business. There’s lots of opportunities. You’ve got a chance here. Don’t give up.” I’m glad that someone is around to encourage Rizzo to try to take one of the few opportunities open to American hockey players at this time.

Les Auge concludes his grand speech: “Listen, if you can’t find your name on that list tomorrow, then come to me and tell me about your coaching jobs, but until then, just keep running them into corners. Don’t quit until he fires you.” I’ve got to say that my affection for Les Auge is growing. I’m getting sad that he’s going to be cut, whereas I can’t wait to see the back of Thompson.

Switching scenes again, we’re in a living room with a lot of the guys from the team including OC, Bill Baker, Rob McClanahan, Ken Morrow, and Jim Craig talking amongst themselves while an agent tries to hold court about the upcoming game schedule, saying with varying notes of pathetic desperation, “Okay, fellows. All right. Hold it. Listen up. Listen up now, fellows. Listen, it’s a good schedule. Some games in Europe. Some exhibitations against the NHL. You’ve got sixty-one games in all. That’s in five months. Only the fittest survive this.”

I hope this is meant as a not-so-subtle info dump for the movie audience, since it would be really pathetic if the boys needed an agent to tell them what they could easily garner from a schedule for themselves. These guys shouldn’t need an agent to read off a paper what teams they’ll be facing and how many games they’ll be playing. If this Olympic squad has even half the organization of a recreational beer league, they’ll already know all this basic information.

Placing his drink on the coffee table, Ken remarks, “Yeah, that’s the point. A guy could get injured right out playing hockey with a schedule like that.” This hurts my heart, since it was untimely injuries that forced Ken Morrow out of the NHL early. At least he got some Stanley Cup rings with that Islander dynasty first, though…

With a meaningful glance at Morrow and the other boys, Kaminsky leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, and counters, “Not if he stays on top of his game. Okay, you can’t prevent bad luck, but cheap injuries, that’s something else.”

This is so wrong that I feel the dumber for even considering for a millisecond the possibility that such an absurd premise could be true. Cheapshots are so terrible precisely because they are unpredictable and illegal. Check out this compilation of NHL cheapshots to see what I mean. Yes, I’m aware those all come from a more recent era, so here’s a collection of cheapshots from the 1980’s, and you can bet that injuries sustained during the 1970’s would probably be even worse, since hockey was more physical in the 1970’s than the 1980’s and safety gear was more primitive and optional. Just good Lord. Is Kaminsky really going to contend with a straight face that the victim of every cheapshot in hockey history could somehow have prevented the injury by being “on top of his game”? That’s like saying every robbery victim who ever existed deserved to be stolen from just for not looking after possessions properly.

Fortunately not falling for this drivel, Jim points out, “Yeah, but a pro gets paid for the risk of bad luck.”

The guy (whose face I can’t recognize) next to Jim chips in his two cents, adding, “Yeah, and a pro’s insured.”

These are legitimate concerns, since an athlete’s livelihood depends on his body’s health, so if there are questions about where the money to treat an injury would come from, I could definitely see that as something that could scare guys with other options away from the Olympic team.

Kaminsky answers, “We’re working on that.”

Then there is a knock on the door, and OC opens it to reveal Herb, who enters and glares around the room to put all the peasants who had the gumption to worry about their medical insurance in their place. This is just like Peterloo.

OC cracks his fingers together in a signal for all the boys to leave, which they do, leaving Herb alone with the agent and Kaminsky.

The agent dons his jacket and announces that he’ll be leaving for a drink, gesturing at Herb and Kaminsky before saying, “With you two, it’s personal. If you get past that, call me. We’ll talk business.”

Once the agent leaves, Kaminsky clears his throat and offers Herb a drink, which prompts Herb to vent, “You said you’d keep away from my kids.”

Not responding to this, Kaminsky asks, “How come you get along so well with my partner?”

“Leave him out of it,” Herb snaps. “Who invited you here?”

Kaminsky answers that it’s just common sense for him to be here and a rumor that Herb needed him.

As the Rumor Weed Song from a childhood of listening to Veggie Tales echoes in my head, Herb goes into full snide mode, asserting that of all the things he needs, Kaminsky is the least and that the rumor Kaminsky should have listened to was the one detailing how much he didn’t care for Kaminsky. I have observed that, thus far, Herb is the only character in this film who is allowed to have even halfway witty put-downs.

Not descending to Herb’s level, Kaminsky remarks, “Well, as I see it, Herb, you are caught between a rock and hard place. That tends to make a man nervous, tight. Sometimes makes him look for something to focus it all on, and something tells me that I’m your Patsy.” Kaminsky is so dramatic here. At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised to hear him break into this catchy tune about how much of a Patsy he is.

Shaking his head, Herb comments, “You’re nobody’s Patsy. A guy doesn’t get to be big and important in pro hockey circles by being a Patsy.”

Kaminsky admits that’s true, but argues that he did whatever was necessary to advance in pro hockey circles in order to further the cause of young American hockey players, because, according to him, he’s the only one who believes in them and wants to give them the chances that Canadian junior players usually had first dibs on as he is convinced that American players can be as good as Canadian ones. He’s also adamant that this approach isn’t making him rich.

Unmoved by this, Herb sarcastically suggests, “You ought to register as a charity. I’d send you a couple bucks myself.”

Kamisky responds that would be just fine, and then goes on to make the following appeal, “Now, listen. If you’re going to cut fifteen of the best that we represent, would you please tell me now? I’ve got pros sniffing around every one of them, Herb. These kids need my advice. If I believe you’ve got half a chance at a good showing, I’m going to tell them to stay. If I believe that the Russians are going to humiliate you, my advice is going to be to split, to get them out before they make laughingstocks of themselves.”

As I noted in the previous section, this is about as straightforward and fair a deal as you can expect from an agent, and it’s a pity that Herb is too stubborn to cooperate, because, no matter how much he tries to paint Kaminsky as a villain here, I don’t perceive him in that light. Kaminsky is just trying to do his job by looking out for his clients. He wasn’t hired to be the Olympic team’s GM, after all.

In this vein, Kaminsky continues, “Herb, give me room. Maybe I can help you. You keep playing God, you’re going to find yourself with an empty locker room. Now I’m doing my job as a lawyer, as a player’s rep.”

Herb volleys back, pointing at his chest, “Maybe in your head, but what about here? What about your heart?”

Game, set, and match to you, Herb. You said the secret word. I’m sure that if Kaminsky digs deeply into his masochistic heart he’ll realize that he really does want to see as many of his clients embarrassed on the Olympic stage as possible.

Pressing on, Herb demands, “Law or athletics? Kaminsky, I’m inviting you to join the squad as an honorary member. Put it on the line for the team. Just as though you were wearing the skates yourself. This is no ego trip for me. You know as well as I do that no athlete ever made it without sacrifice for the game, not for meat.”

When Kaminsky says that he’s not questioning Herb’s motives, Herb retorts, “Just my sanity, right?” Well, at this point, given how manic you’ve been acting, Herb, that would be a totally justifiable thing to doubt…

Before Kaminsky can answer, Herb states, “Let’s play it straight. This whole thing as far as I’m concerned is a fantasy.”

Kaminsky looks about as startled by this revelation as the first caveman who discovered that wood ignited. The overacting really makes every scene extra unbelievable.

Getting past the almost comically horrid acting, Herb throws all his cards on the table, observing, “And you know what? I’m beginning to doubt your sanity, too.”

Again with that incredibly fake expression of shock, Kaminsky asks, “Why me?”

Herb fires back, “You coming all the way out here. You, the fastest telephone in the East, coming out here. I’d like to see your cost analysis of this trip.”

Kaminsky confesses that Herb is right, and this wasn’t a business trip, as he came out to see for himself whether Herb was obsessed because Herb was the last man cut from the ’60 gold medal team and that could cloud Herb’s judgment. When Herb presses for Kaminsky’s verdict on his obsession level, Kaminsky sums the situation up perfectly by explaining, “I think you’re crazy like a fox.”

On that note, I’ll leave you until next time to speculate on how Herb will sneak into the chicken coop and which chickens in the coop he’s after anyway…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Breaking Down a Miracle on Ice Movie: Smile at the Camera

Since I have the night off from watching playoff hockey (funny how the elimination of more teams from the playoff picture correlates with an increase in the time I can devote to other leisure activities), I decided to fulfill my promise to watch and blog about the next installment of the 1981 Miracle on Ice film. This section focuses on part of the trials process associated with selecting the Olympic team, but since this movie centers around the trials more than its twenty-first century counterpart does, I will continue to examine the trials process in the next blog post as well, as the trials process appears to extend beyond the portion that I’m being for this post. With that caveat, wagons ho! We’re about to depart on the next part of our wonderful journey to gold in Lake Placid.

When we last left our boys, they were besieging Patrick with a million and one questions. Apparently having received answers to all their manifold inquiries, they are now giving their names and getting their photographs taken. This is probably intended to serve as our introduction to all the boys—providing us with a way to place all the faces with a name—but it feels like too little too late, since we’ve already been thrown into the deep end without a life vest, and, anyway, most of these actors (a term I employ here in the loosest possible sense) bear an uncanny resemblance to one another. Basically, this is my disclaimer that at some point in the movie I might end up saying something about how Mark Johnson has this great line when really it was Rob McClanahan who said it, because casting makes everyone look the same. In real life, though, I would never in a million years confuse those two, so I can still keep my real Miracle fan badge, right?

While the Miracle fan board reviews my case, the first guy to come forward to get his picture taken is Rizzo. He strikes a pose that is more arrogant than outgoing, and I’m not sure that’s really him. I’d believe he’d give off a confident but also friendly vibe. Once Rizzo is done with his photo op, OC steps forward to have his picture taken while chewing a wad of gum just like Brett Connolly did in the 2010 NHL Entry Draft when he went to the podium to shake Steve Yzerman’s hand, and we just had to be grateful that he didn’t spit or pick his nose since neither his parents nor his agent had coached him in how to meet a GM and Hall of Famer. Unlike Brett Connolly, OC does not seem as if he is operating under the influence of horse tranquilizers, and he puts on this cocky smirk that I believe is perfect for his character. So far he’s one of the better portrayed guys in this film, though that may be damning with faint praise.

Jim’s up next, and he needs to be told to look at the camera, which I guess could be the filmmaker’s way of trying to establish that he was something of a loner. After giving his name, he gives this horrible half smile, and I cringe in disgust. Why, oh way, did casting think Steve Guttenberg was a perfect fit for this role? You could torture me like in that graphic and only appropriate for adult audiences scene in Braveheart, and I’d still refuse to believe that Guttenberg was Craig, until the bitter end shouting, “Freedom!”

After Jim, Ken Morrow follows, and he gives his name so quietly that Patrick asks him to repeat it, which is a reasonably clever and relatively subtle way of showing how reserved Ken was. Kudos to the script writers here.

Buzz is up next, and all I can think is that at least he’s better looking than the guy who plays Jim Craig in this movie. His smile is a bit more smug and less kind than I would have imagined, but maybe that’s just me.

Les Auge follows Buzz, and, like OC, he’s chewing gum. It’s a gum-chewing pandemic. I hope that none of them gets attacked like Hugh Jessiman by their suddenly sentient gum when celebrating a goal. I mean, it’s a sure sign that you’re basically a total bust as a professional athlete when you can’t even celebrate a goal without some hilariously ungainly malfunction, and you don’t want to give Herb that sort of insight into your failings.

Next up is Rob McClanahan, who seems pretty regular and inoffensive, which is about all you can ask from this film at this point. Then we have Pav, who is totally blank for the camera, and that goes well with his hating-the-spotlight personality. Pav is followed by John Harrington, who seems normal though plumper than he looked in earlier shots of him. It must be the light…

We shift over to the rink, where some guys are performing a warm-up skate after having their pictures snapped. Les Auge skates up to Rizzo and introduces himself before remarking about how there isn’t much competition. In response, Rizzo observes that is a good thing because he’s still tired from the trip. Since Rizzo mentions jet lag, I’ll just point out that many of the boys who tried out for the ’80 Olympic team actually arrived in Colorado Springs many days in advance so that they could adapt to the higher altitude.

On that note, we’re back to Patrick taking a picture of a guy named Steve Thompson. I admit that unlike Les Auge, Cox, and Hughes, I don’t remember reading a word about this Thompson fellow in any of the books or articles I’ve studied about the Miracle on Ice, but it’s still interesting to have a face to go with one of the names that Herb will (spoiler alert) end up cutting in this movie. Thompson is followed by some other dude with the surname Parides that I’ve never read about either. It’s weird and vaguely sad how some names are utterly lost in the annals of hockey history.

After those two guys who are the merest footnotes of history in this movie, we have a dude who I have heard of: one Bill Baker, who gives a slight smile and nod at the camera. He’s pretty cute, even though he is apparently not Eric Strobel after all.

Following Bill, we have Mark Johnson, who has dark hair and white skin but other than that really does not look at all like Mark in terms of facial structure or eye color. He also has this arrogant expression on his face that isn’t at all suitable for Mark to be wearing. Why did the director allow this to happen?

When Patrick is done taking Mark’s photo, the scene shifts to focus on all the boys skating around the rink, and then zones in on the bleachers, where Patrick joins Herb, who is watching the warm-ups like a hawk, and asks, “Now what?”

Herb replies that Patrick took the words right out of his mouth, and Patrick looks aghast at his rudeness. I predict that Patrick will spend about half of his screen time going into cardiac arrest because of all the nasty things that emerge from Herb’s irritable lips. Proving me right, Herb, being his blithe self, continues, “What’s this—a hockey camp or a rehearsal for the ice companies?”

That’s actually a good bit of dialogue (or else my standards have just been lowered by the abysmal quality of the rest of the script, because I can’t even tell any more), and I have some time to appreciate it before Patrick responds with a chuckle, “Relax, Coach. There’s got to be twenty great ones in that line-up.”

Being a total boar, Herb counters, “Good. When you find out who they are, let me know.” Again, Patrick looks astonished by Herb’s terseness. I see this conversation is going nowhere, and maybe the emotionally stunted Herb actually senses the same thing, because he goes on, “Meanwhile, would you get them started? Sprints and everything. Work ‘em. Work ‘em hard.”

Patrick stands up and blows his whistle, but we are left to imagine the horrible paces the boys are put through, since the next scene transpires in Herb’s office, where we are looking down at a pile of the pictures Patrick has just taken on Herb’s desk.

Herb, who presumably was using the phone to attempt a call to his wife, puts it down, stating that she must have taken the kids to a movie. Switching from the personal to business, he scoops up the pile of pictures and begins to rifle through them, asking Patrick, who is seated in the chair opposite his desk, what on a scale of one to ten he thinks of Grazier.

Patrick estimates a nine, and then bumps it up to a nine-and-a-half, reasoning that Grazier is dependable in clutch situations.

Herb demands who would back Grazier up, and Patrick, looking pensive, says Johnson and Parides could. I’m assuming from the fact that Grazier’s and Parides’ names are linked with Johnson’s that these guys were seen as talented, top prospects in 1979, but since I’ve never heard of them, I’m guessing that they busted. That’s the interesting thing about prospect development. Sometimes a late round pick blossoms into a Chara, Pavelski, or Lundqvist, and a first overall pick can be a disappointment like Alexandre Daigle or Marc-Andre Fleury.

Referring to Parides and Johnson, Patrick says, “They’re both talented.”

Hurling down the pictures, Herb wants to know, “But are they tough? Will they stand up?”

My immediate reaction to this line is that the scriptwriters are trying to be all philosophical and whatnot, but are actually betraying the fact that they’ve never drawn up a hockey roster or even contemplated doing so for more than six seconds. Toughness probably isn’t within the top five qualities that coaches and GMs look for in a first line center. Things like stickhandling, skating speed, playmaking abilities, shooting strength, and overall hockey sense are all more important. You look for skill in a first line center, and toughness in a fourth line center, because, a fourth line goon considers it a great triumph to get a star center to drop the gloves and earn a coincidental penalty.

That’s my reaction if it’s physical toughness being questioned here. However, if it’s mental toughness, that’s much more valid a concern, but still a slippery slope, since the hockey world tends to overrate the toughness of players who are chirpy on the ice but then delve into full turtle mode if anyone actually raises a fist while underrating the bravery and endurance of quieter leaders like Steve Yzerman whom Scotty Bowman said had the highest pain threshold of any player he ever coached.

All I can say is we better not be headed down the path of “Mark Johnson was a talented player but a weak one,” because Mark Johnson got his shoulder speared in the Czechoslovakia game and returned to the line-up in the next one even though he had to have his arm in a weird sling under his equipment. It was like playoff hockey, and, on that note, tune in to NBC tomorrow to watch Jonathan Toews, who wears number nineteen just like Steve Yzerman, lead the Blackhawks against the Kings.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Breaking Down a Miracle on Ice Movie: Meet the Guys

As anyone who has followed this blog for any length of time probably has figured out I have a slightly overzealous interest in the Miracle on Ice, so when I had a chance to buy a VHS (those tapes that are a pain in the neck to rewind and flash forward that we used to watch back in the ‘90s before DVDs were invented to spare us the agony if you can remember those technological Dark Ages) of the 1981 made for TV movie called Miracle on Ice at a garage sell, I had to spend the two bucks it took to purchase the relic. Of course, the fact that I even go to such garage sales is a source of eternal embarrassment to my family, as is the fact that we still have a VHS player hooked up to one of our TVs. To make my family’s humiliation complete, I decided to watch the Miracle on Ice VHS that I bought nice and cheap at a garage sale on our antiquated VHS player and then blog about it in ten to twenty minute segments.

Now to give my audience fair warning, I’m so excited about this rainfall from heaven in the form of a Miracle on Ice VHS that I might not be entirely coherent throughout this viewing and writing experience. Seriously, the last time I was flailing so much over something Miracle related was when I ordered a book about the Miracle on Ice used on Amazon and it arrived with Eric Strobel’s signature in it, making me feel like I had just committed the online equivalent of highway robbery since I would have paid a lot more money for the book if I had known it had Eric Strobel’s John Hancock in it. Gosh, that was like the pinnacle of my Miracle fan glee, and the only way it could have possibly been improved was if the signature had been Mark Johnson’s or Rob McClanahan’s, because those two are my absolute favorite Miracle boys. Okay, that’s more than enough about me and my freakishness. Let’s get on with the show, ladies and gentlemen of the blog world…

The movie opens with a rather impressive declaration that it’s based on the events leading up to the USA men’s hockey team winning gold at the Lake Placid Olympics, but some characters and events have been compressed for dramatic purposes. With all these fancy words, it sounds like the beginning of those forensic shows on the Discovery channel. Maybe Herb will commit a murder in this film, and we’ll have to go on a journey to find DNA evidence to convict him by confiscating his Coke can or something.

Credits are rolling, and I want to get on with the actual film. I’ve got all the patience of a sugar high toddler here, basically, and I’m remembering how hard it is to fast forward a VHS.

All right, the credits are finally over, and we’re at Herb’s house near St. Paul, Minnesota. The camera focuses on the Coach of the Year Award and assorted honors that Herb has received that are hanging on his bedroom wall. It’s a good way of subtly establishing his character as a decorated college coach, and the fact we don’t see any coffee mugs with “Number 1 Coach” written in bright colors is probably a sign that he’s not a touchy-feely guy or else that he coaches the most ungrateful brats ever.

The camera drifts over to Herb’s face, and if I don’t make a crack about Karl Malden nose right away it’s going to be distracting me the whole movie, which will hinder my enjoyment of all things Miracle on Ice, so, on that note, Karl’s nose is so big that it looks like they got two actors to play Herb.

Patty’s awake, and she’s fretting about Herb being up all night like the obsessive nut that he is. Herb comes over to their bed (and the fact that they are allowed to be on the same bed and not have to sleep in twin beds shows that this is an ‘80s film not a ‘50s one, since the ‘50s were so prudish that not even husbands and wives were allowed to share beds) and protests that he had to decide which players he was going to invite to the Olympic try-outs.

Patty is sassy, pointing out that was Herb’s excuse for not getting any sleep last night, and he can’t use the same one twice. Nice to see her given some personality in this film.

Herb explains that he delayed sending out the invitations until today (since he’s such a terrible procrastinator) and then provides a little bit of an info-dump, describing how he’ll have to cut forty-two of the sixty boys at the Olympic trials, and then he’ll have six months to narrow the roster down to twenty. I’d probably be a sarcastic jerk about Herb flipping out this much over sending out invitations if I didn’t just think about how miserable an experience mailing a million Christmas cards can be, but since I remember that I’ll graciously hold my fire.

Of course, in the modern era, mailing invitations isn’t a concern for USA hockey. They just send out text messages to players, and if that sometimes means accidentally inviting a sixty-seven-year-old Canadian to the Olympics instead of Ryan Kesler since Kesler changed his number that is just the price of doing business. Anyway, the lesson in all this is that the technology may have improved, but inviting players to the Olympics still remains a messy process because USA Hockey is a marvelously inefficient organization, as most bureaucracies are.

Since Herb sounds like a ball of stress, Patty points out that Herb didn’t need to take the job, and when Herb worries about what will happen if he can’t succeed, she reassures him that she’ll still be there for him as always. This is a pretty sweet scene, to be honest.

Herb hops into Craig Patrick’s car and begins acting as if he has the social skills of a rhino on a rampage. In response to Patrick’s question about how he’s doing, he just demands to know where the list of the boys they’re going to invite is, and Patrick whips out a clipboard. It’s interesting that the film has Herb treating Patrick like a clod of dirt, since Herb was actually known for treating his assistant coaches and trainers with a lot of respect. He was just mean to his players mainly.

Being a complete thunderhead, Herb grouses about how even if he had twenty of the best players in the world, he couldn’t build a team in less than seven months, and this is why the Russians don’t take American hockey seriously. I guess he would love it if he were named a commander in the army who could draft hockey players to his unit and force them to live in barracks away from their families for eleven months of the year since that was what the Soviet team success was rooted in. I hope that he doesn’t continue in this vein all the way to Lake Placid, because that would just be annoying.

Patrick makes a valid point about hockey being more important to Russians than it is to Americans.

Herb snarls at Patrick to mail out the invitations and then slams the list down like a toddler having a tantrum over Mommy not buying the Oreos at the supermarket. He tops the rant off with a statement that Patrick should start praying that enough of the boys to make a team will feel like showing up, but if that’s really a concern shouldn’t he send out more invitations to more players instead of whining about a potential lack of turnout?

We’re in Boston now, and Rizzo is walking through a park filled with historical statues as all Boston parks are legally required to be with his girlfriend. As they stroll along the path, Rizzo’s girlfriend asks Rizzo if he’s nervous.

At first, Rizzo tries to scoff off the question, then he mans up enough to admit that he is nervous because he’s a hockey player and he needs to get noticed. It should be noted that Rizzo’s Boston accent makes “Donna” sound like “darling.”

Donna gives Rizzo a look to let him know she’s not impressed by this logic, and he says that the pros know where he is, but he needs to prove himself to them if he wants them to give him a real opportunity. He feels that the Olympics would give him that chance to prove himself.

Rizzo’s Boston accent is so excessive that it’s difficult to take him seriously even when he is being so intense in this scene. His actor could have followed the less is more philosophy when it comes to portraying an accent in film.

Donna smiles and asks Rizzo how long he’s going to wait. Rizzo slings an arm around her and says he’ll tell her after the mail comes.

With that as a transition, we move over to North Easton, Massachusetts, where Jim Craig lives. He enters to find an opened invitation to the Olympics on the mantle next to a picture of his mother, who, of course, died of cancer but dreamed of her son going to the Olympics.

As he reads the letter, his dad comes into the room and tells Jimmy not to be angry with his brother who tried to get to it first. Yeah, as someone from a large family, let me tell you that if a sibling was snooping through my mail, I wouldn’t be angry—I’d be searching for a knife. In large families, you shouldn’t get mad; you should just get even.

Jim tells his dad that he wasn’t trying to hide the note and that he just was waiting to see what offers he could get from the pros. Jim’s father says there will be time to speak with the pros later, and Jim counters that it costs money to keep playing amateur, and he feels like his family has spent enough already. Many families do struggle to cobble together the money to give their children a shot at the Olympics that I applaud this film for examining some of the tension that results from that. I imagine it puts a ton of pressure on the athletes knowing how much their family sacrificed to give them a shot at the Olympics, and then for the families it has to be stressful to because they feel like they should be doing everything possible to give their talented kid the best opportunity to succeed but that’s so hard to do when you money is tight.

During the course of this discussion, the camera really zooms in on Jim’s face, and let me tell you, the actor who plays him looks absolutely nothing like the actual Jim Craig. He’s about as far from objectively good-looking as it’s possible to be, he doesn’t look remotely Irish, and his peepers aren’t a dazzling blue. Was this the best casting could do because it’s kind of pathetic?

We’re back in Minnesota, and some guy who I assume is Steve Christoff is watching some reels of himself getting slammed into the boards in awkward ways. Thankfully we are distracted from these frankly weird poses by Rob McClanahan materializing in the doorframe and saying like the obnoxious know-it-all that he is, “Don’t tell me. Slapshot.” No, Robbie, it’s the Three Stooges.

The guy who I’m just going to call Steve until proof that he’s not comes along says he’s actually watching a play of himself getting nailed into the corners.

Rob replies with a joking, “You never give up, do you?” This script is quite terrible, since half of what people say isn’t very related to what was offered in the previous comment. It’s as if everyone in this film has never engaged in an actual conversation with other human beings before.

Steve (or whoever he is) responds that “we can’t all be naturals.” That’s definitely true about the acting in this movie, let me assure you.

Rob, deciding to hop onto the next topic and get to the real point of his visit, asks if Steve “got one.” This forced dialogue that’s trying to sound organic and bantering is quite grating to listen to in case you’re wondering.

Steve (or whatever his name is) answers that he hasn’t checked yet, and Rob crows that he saved him the trouble and they’ll be going to camp together. In other words, the script writers have a fetish for people committing the federal offense of opening mail not addressed to them. I mean, seriously, this is the second time in less than five minutes that someone has nosed through a letter that doesn’t belong to them. Come up with a new way of revealing information. This is already getting old, and we aren’t ten minutes into the movie yet.

I can’t help but picture other conversations Rob might have engaged in with friends in the past, though, and it’s rather amusing. I can just envision him strutting into a friend’s living room during his senior year of high school and announcing all smugly, “I saved you the trouble of getting your mail and opening it. You got that letter from the admissions office of that university you really were dreaming of going to and that you thought was so perfect for you. You were outright rejected. What a bummer, but let’s focus on what’s really important in life. Do you want to watch Slapshot? Wait. Why are you crying and hurling blunt objects at my head?”

Getting beyond the fact that Rob doesn’t understand human emotions too well in this movie, we’re moving up to Eveleth, Minnesota to meet some Coneheads at a bar.

We get some shots of the mines because Eveleth is in the Iron Range of Minnesota, so mining iron ore is what the economy of that whole region is based on. Good to get some local flavor.

We follow Pav as he dashes into a bar, glances around at the patrons, and then takes a seat at a table with Bah Harrington and Buzz Schneider.

Buzz makes a wisecrack about Pav only being an hour late this time. Pav would be the dude who couldn’t arrive on time to anything, since he is the exact opposite of a social butterfly.

Pav explains that he was fishing. This feels so in character, since Pav loved nature and hunting, so I could totally see him blowing off his friends for an hour or more to catch some fish.

I think the scene with the Coneheads is the best yet, because Bah actually sounds natural when he gives Pav a hard time about fishing instead of hanging out with his friends, and Pav does to when he responds that if it’s between Bah and fishing, fishing is going to win.

That natural feeling kind of fades away though when Bah and Buzz want to know if Pav got an invitation to the Olympic trials, but at least this gives Pav a chance to show his prankster side by putting on a blank face for a few seconds, and then whipping out the invite with a slight smile.

After this, there is some manly hand-shaking and celebratory shouting from the Coneheads.

Then we shift scenes to a cemetery where Jim and his father are standing over his mother’s grave. It’s a poignant touch to have them both offering the Sign of the Cross at the end of their prayers, since it’s annoying in films when Catholics act like evangelical Protestants and don’t make that gesture. Really, it’s almost as bad as when a Catholic priest decides to lead his congregation in the Protestant version of the Our Father, because Hollywood just doesn’t understand Catholicism at all and doesn’t realize that’s just as unbelievable as a backwoods Baptist chanting a Hail Mary. They don’t mess this bit up, though, so props to them.

As they walk away from the grave, Jim’s dad asks him how it feels to being going to the Olympic trials, and Jimmy sighs before answering that it’s what he wants to do. The poor guy needs a hug, because he’s making me a very sad panda right now.

When his dad asks if he’s doing okay, Jimmy responds that he is but it’s still hard for him to believe that his mom is gone. Way to snatch my heart out of my chest and stomp on it, Jimmy. I hope you’re happy about that now.

Some of the touching melancholy of this scene is squandered when Jim’s father just responds that it’s hard for everyone in the family. It just seems like there would be about fifty more comforting things he could have said at this juncture, so it sort of rips me out of the moment and reminds me of the vexation I experienced when I vented to a friend about how upset I was when I got a C on a test I thought I aced and instead of sympathizing she took the opportunity to wax poetic about an F she’d gotten on an exam several years ago. She was so determined to prove that she had suffered more than me, while I was thinking that I was sorry she had a bad day years ago, but I was having a bad day now and some consoling might be in order…

Jim worries aloud that him pursuing his Olympic dream is asking too much of the family, and Jim’s dad points out that it is really Jim’s mother who is doing most of the asking. The scene is back to being touching now.

Jim’s father tells him to just make his mom proud and repeats that instruction as if to pile on the pressure. If I were Jim, I’d probably feel like the weight of the world was on my shoulders after those words from dear old dad.

Jim’s father slings an arm around Jim’s shoulders, saying, “Come on. Let’s get you to the plane.” This serves as our transition to an airplane that’s taking off.

Aboard this plane, we are introduced to Jack O’Callahan gambling with some guy named Graser. Graser loses the card game for what seems to be the umpteenth time and takes out his temper by smacking OC’s mouth with a hand of cards. OC gasps and clutches his face, which seems rather inconsistent with the fact that OC had hundreds of stitches and no teeth. He’s tough guy. He’s not going to find some paper hitting his lips painful.

In another row, we have Silky and Rizzo talking about how many of the boys will go pro before Lake Placid rolls around. Silky remarks that he can’t blame anyone for choosing to go pro when that’s where all the money is. Rizzo suggests that Silky should leave the pros alone for now since he still has a year of college eligibility left.

In a comment that doesn’t directly respond to what came before, Silky says that his family wants him to become a doctor but he prefers performing surgery with his stick. From the row up front, someone chips in that Herb would want to see him playing the body not the stick, and Silky retorts that is why Herb’s not coaching in the NHL.

Rizzo points out that maybe Herb doesn’t want to coach in the NHL, and Silky scoffs that the NHL is where all the money is. Rizzo flares up and snaps that Silky still has other options and that he should finish school to give himself something to fall back on. I think that Silky’s allusions to the fact that the best play and coach in the NHL because that’s where all the money is poked a raw nerve with Rizzo, don’t you?

Flashing back to OC, we learn that Graser is three hundred and fifty thousand dollars in the red to OC. Adjusted for inflation, that’s a ton of money. Good Lord, did Graser think the plane was Las Vegas or what? If you’re going to lose that kind of money, at least do it in a snazzy casino.

That’s all for now, folks. We’ve met the boys, and next we’ll get to watch them partake in the trials. Oh, and OC wants me to tell you that the over/under odds on Graser making the team are really great, so bet on it with him…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Breaking Down a Miracle: Part V

Introduction:

This post (read it and weep) represents the conclusion of my series on the games played by the 1980 US Olympic hockey team and their journey to the gold medal. It, of course, focuses on the match against Finland, as well as the post game interviews with Rizzo, Vice President Mondale, Herb Brooks, Jim Craig, Mark Johnson ( aka my munchkin) and Rob McClanahan ( aka my Eternal Favorite Miracle player whom I only tease because I love). Fair warning: this post contains an unpardonable amount of fangirling over Mark Johnson and Rob McClanahan because I might never get another chance to flail over them so publically. I’ve got to seize the day in that regard.  Still, I’ve compensated for that mushiness by including a great number of snide remarks about the media and President Carter being an idiot on the telephone in particular and as a national leader in general. Hopefully, that creates an interesting blend of the sweet and salty reminiscent of a chocolate-covered pretzel.

Notes on the US versus Finland Game:

• Unlike the Soviet game, the Finland game is actually televised live.
• The broadcaster, proving that Olympic coverage was just as infuriatingly condescending back in 1980 as it is today, tells his audience to go wake up anyone they are afraid might have overslept but who wouldn’t want to miss the game. Sheesh. Does he really think large numbers of Americans are sitting dithering on their sofas, moaning indecisively, “Golly, Jake talked a lot about wanting to see this game, but all I hear from his room is earth-shattering snoring. I won’t wake him, though, unless a random TV broadcaster suggests that’s a wise move”? Get over yourself, buddy. You aren’t that important.
• The broadcaster emphasizes that if the Americans win the game against the Finns, the gold medal is theirs, but if they lose, a variety of outcomes are possible depending on the outcome of the Sweden-Soviet match. The broadcaster doesn’t go into it now, but if the US lost, it would have been possible for them to beat the Soviets but not medal. Insane, you say? Yes, but this is the Olympics, and anything but pigs flying can happen.
• Al Michaels compares the situation to Squaw Valley. According to him, everyone remembers the 1960 team beating the Russians but forgets that the team still had to win another game to take the gold. He says that the current American team is now in the place of, having defeated the Soviets, needing to get a last win for the gold medal.
• Ken Dryden points out that while in Friday’s match against the Soviets the Americans had the freedom of playing as underdogs, against the Finns they have the weight of going in as favorites who are under the responsibility to win.
• There is a ceremonial exchange of gifts between Rizzo and the Finland captain. I never heard of this custom before. I mean, what ceremonial gifts do teams exchange? Deodorant as a hint the other side stinks? That’s all I can think of. Jeez, I feel ignorant and will be going to the penalty box for being a bad fan.
• These commentators define the word negativity. Every chance possible, they put a bad twist on the situation. They spend the first few minutes yammering on about how the US needs a strong start since they haven’t had any in this tournament. I guess the commentators haven’t figured out that this was a third period team. Obviously, strong starts are nice, but this team prefers the final push to the opening rush. That is just how they roll, but it’s worked for them thus far. They haven’t lost yet.
• Gosh, for a second I’m empathizing for the Finns. This game is all or nothing for them. If they lose, no medal. If they win, a chance at bronze. I just feel bad because their country has never medaled in the Olympics before. I just have sympathy for hockey underdogs.
• Ramsey has a slapshot that almost goes in the net but is deflected wide. This game is already doing some damage to my poor heart.
• Rizzo has a dramatic shot on goal that involves him falling to the ice, and I pout because the Finnish goaltender has a good glove save.
• One of the Finns is sent to the penalty box for two minutes for hooking. Let’s see if the US can capitalize on this power play opportunity.
• There is a minute stretch where the commentator utters the phrase “Johnson to McClanahan” about four or five times. Yeah, these two passed to one another a whole heck of a lot.
• Apparently, people misused the word “literally” as egregiously back in 1980 as they do today, because the commentator (wanting to sound like a moron on national television, I suppose) says that the USA chant has literally become part of the building. Um, no, unless the chant has become a wall or the roof, the word you are searching for is “figuratively.” Do not pass go and collect a hundred dollars. Just go straight to jail.
• Okay, there have now been two shots in this period of Mark Johnson and Robbie McClanahan sitting next to one another on the bench. Basically, if this were the NHL they’d be the line mates who actually look for each other on the bench instead of just sitting wherever. (It is, of course, adorable and hilarious when line mates do that.)
• The Finnish goaltender’s glove save is ruining my life right now. I was so convinced that Neal Broten’s shot was going to find the back of the net. I’ll just console myself with the fact that Broten was the first American player to have a 100 point season in the NHL, so clearly some of his shots managed to land in the net based on that evidence.
• On the bench, Broten looks like a dejected puppy. Cheer up, Neal. We all love you.
• There is a fluff piece on Rizzo. He talks about the support his massive Italian family has given him and about how he learned the value of hard work from his father. He also mentions that he primarily sees himself as a captain on a team of captains and who has a lot of heart even if he isn’t the best skater or goal scorer. He’s not even one of my favorites, and he’s still tearing at my frayed heartstrings. I’ll blame it on his Boston accent.
• Ramsey gets a two minute minor penalty for roughing and is not happy about the call.
• Steve Christoff gets a backhanded goal just as Ramsey leaves the penalty box. This team is made of win and perfect timing.
• Buzz Schneider is sent off for slashing. It’s going to be a long two minutes.
• The Finns score again, and the commentators proceed to rip into Christian and Baker for not being close enough to the net more effectively than a school of piranhas.
• Broten skates down the ice for a solid scoring opportunity that sadly does not result in a goal.
• Buzz Schneider, who is back in the action, gets in a strong shot on goal, but it doesn’t find the back of the net. So aggravating.
• A Finnish player gets a penalty for delaying the game by trying to freeze the puck along the boards. Can the Americans pretty please with a cherry on top score during the power play? Thank you in advance, Cosmic Wish Service, if this comes true.
• Silk comes painfully close to scoring. This game is producing real tension in my muscles. I need a massage.
• The power play is over, and there is no scoring on either side.
• Christoff fires a shot that goes through the crease instead of into the net. Bad luck there, pal.
• Jim has an awesome glove save for those keeping track of such flashes of brilliance.
• Verchota scores off a beautiful pass from Christian. The Minnesota boys are showing their value today. Way to be, boys.
• Back on the bench, Verchota gets his helmet stroked by his teammates. All is now right in my universe.
• Rob McClanahan scores a five hole off a gorgeous pass from Mark Johnson, so to continue with our NHL comparisons from last game (because that joke is not a beaten enough dead horse), Rob is a steady player during the regular season (the pool games) who does a vanishing trick during the playoffs (Soviet game), but then remembers that scoring the Stanley Cup winning goal is on his bucket list, so he does that during the Stanley Cup Finals. Then he probably becomes an unrestricted free agent at the end of the season, and it costs a boatload of cash to re-sign him.
• Seriously, though, this is an excellent moment to watch repeatedly on YouTube to psych yourself up for Sochi. It’s the game winner for the last time the American men’s hockey team won gold, so what’s not to love except for the fact that it was so long ago?
• Mark and Robbie need to be fined for creating too much adorable. When Rob scores, they both throw up their arms in celebration at the same time. Then they hug and bounce around like they can’t contain their excitement. I sympathize. I mean, I can’t contain mine, and I wasn’t even alive when this happened.
• The whole team joins the hug fest, the crowd goes wild, and the camera pans over to Herb as if the network expects him to be impressed but all he does is take a deep breath and glance up at the scoreboard, because this is all just in keeping with his master plan, and the network should have gotten the memo that he wasn’t doing spontaneous displays of positive emotions this game unless someone gets a shorthanded goal.
• The commentary on the replay of Rob McClanahan’s goal provides me with a marvelous opportunity to rant about something in the American coverage that has been bothering me throughout the games but that I’ll bring up now just because I might never have another chance to grind this particular ax, and what a pity that would be. My gripe, in a nutshell, is that, whenever a member of an opposing team scores or has a brilliant maneuver, it is almost always attributed to the foreign player’s talent (and I’m totally fine with that as I always hope that the Olympics promotes international respect through competition), but when a member of the US squad scores or has a breathtaking maneuver, it is almost inevitably credited to luck rather than the player’s skill. This especially irks me when the footage of the goal or move the American in question makes directly contradicts the commentary.
• To apply this logic to Rob’s goal, the commentary essentially asserts that he was lucky with his goal because if the Finnish goaltender had not dropped, it would have been much harder for the puck to go into the net. The problem with this statement is that when you watch the footage of the goal, it is clear that he waits for the goaltender to drop before he fires a shot, and outlasting a goaltender is a valuable skill for a hockey player. Also, Rob plainly has a plan about where he wants the puck to go and how he wishes for it to get there. Then he just manipulates the situation to suit his plan. Therefore, his goal is about as lucky as me not spilling juice all over the counter when I pour it into a cup I took down from the cabinet for the express purpose of filling with juice. I mean, if that glass hadn’t been there, gosh, what a sticky mess I would have, right?
• Before I get rotten tomatoes hurled at my face, I’ll get off my soapbox now, but I just wanted the world to know that the Miracle boys are a lot more talented than the commentators give them credit for, at least in my not so humble opinion.
• Broten is called for hooking, and he slumps so much in the penalty box that you just want to give him candy or something even though that would probably give him a sugar high his teammates would not appreciate. It’s okay, Neal. Everyone loves you. You’re such a sweetie pie and a baby.
• Broten is free. Hooray for the US penalty kill!
• Christian is called for tripping nearly a second after Broten returns from his stint in the penalty box. Guys, why are you torturing me like this? You really don’t need to prove how effective your team’s penalty kill is. I’ll just take your word for it, I promise.
• The teams are at equal strength again. Now I can breathe normally. Please no more penalties for Americans. My heart can’t handle the stress.
• The commentators fanboy over Mark Johnson so now I feel a bit guilty about raking them over the coals about their coverage of everyone else on the team. They compliment him for his all-around play and his subtlety, which makes his myriad contributions to the team easy to overlook. Tell me about it. You can just be reading a hockey thread about the Sochi men’s hockey team roster and get bombarded by a comment about how Mark Johnson is overrated, and you’ll be like, “What are you on? If anything, he is underrated, and how many Olympic gold-medal winning teams have you been a lead scorer on? Jeez, how can you be so wrong on the Internet with all the information you need to not sound like a complete moron a mere Google search away?” Not that I know this overwhelming desire to burn a forum to cinders from personal experience or anything.
• Another shot of the bench with Rob and Mark sitting next to each other. What a surprise. They need to find new bench buddies before I die, and the cause of death is listed as excessive flailing, because I don’t think my family would ever recover from the shame.
• Phil Verchota is called for a two minute roughing penalty that is not earned since he was the one being roughed more than doing the roughing, as far as I could see. I find it interesting that a Czech ref would call an unjustified penalty against the Americans during the final minutes of a game where the Americans have a one goal lead. Is this perhaps vengeance for the US thrashing the Czechs during their second pool game?
• Phil is not a happy camper. He goes to the penalty box, but he makes a point of throwing off his gloves. Rizzo skates over to say something placating, I presume
• The replay of the alleged foul just makes me take Phil’s side all the more, honestly. If the ref was interested in being remotely fair, the Finnish player would at least have received an offsetting penalty for holding.
• Mark Johnson decides now is a perfect time to score shorthanded, so he skates in on the Finnish net to do just that off his own rebound. He raises his hands in the air in jubilation and so does Herb. This kid is pure gold, and he’s got a gold medal to prove it.
• The crowd is ecstatic, and Mark disappears in a massive hug from his teammates.
• Rob dives to the ice to block a shot on goal. So dramatic.
• Phil winks at the camera from the penalty box. Mark’s goal has completely changed his mood, obviously. He may seem like a tough guy, but he still makes me want to hug him. I’m going to marry a hockey player from Minnesota, and, no, that plan is not complicated by the fact that I’m from New Jersey, so don’t you dare suggest that.
• Too much winking in too short a time. The camera flashes over to Mark on the bench, and he smiles, winks, and gives that little nod guys do. I’m going to faint.
• Oh, and it goes without saying, but yet again Rob and Mark are next to each other on the bench. I’m so glad they took some time out of their busy sitting-next-to-each-other schedule to go out and do things like score game-winning and shorthanded goals.
• Phil is back and probably better than ever.
• The crowd takes up a chant of “We’re number one!” Can this happen in Sochi, too, please, hockey gods?
• Broten is too precious to be believed. As the two are next to each other waiting for the final seconds of the game to end, he pats Rob on the head and pulls him into a one-armed embrace under his shoulder. Keep it up, Neal. Robbie deserves all the hugs in the world. This adorableness can be watched here.
• The Americans end with a blitz on the Finnish goal.
• The American bench is a madhouse in the best possible way. The boys are hugging and pounding their sticks against the boards in exhilaration.
• The commentators are finally admitting the Americans have talent, having played on college all-star teams and stuff. It was like pulling teeth but the media got to the truth in the end. I guess they can have a gold star to match the US hockey team’s gold medal. I’m a big supporter of coordinated accessories, after all.
• Al Micheals’ famous call to conclude the game, “This impossible dream comes true!” Woohoo!
• The team piles onto Jim as Herb makes another one of his swift exits. Presumably, he doesn’t want to be beaten to death by the sticks his boys have been banging on the boards.
• The teams exchange the traditional handshakes. No medal for the Finns; gold for the Americans. That’s the final score.
• The classic image of Jim Craig draped in the American flag brings tears to my eyes but I’m going to blame them on the light.

Herb, Rizzo, and Mondale Interview:

• Rizzo and Vice President Mondale are next to one another in the locker room.
• Lampley, the interviewer, mentions that Mondale is a Minnesotan like lots of members of the Miracle team. The difference is that the Miracle boys are made of win, and Mondale is made of lose. He could only have beaten the Finns by putting them asleep first with that monotone of his.
• Herb passes through the shot but tries to duck out of the way. Your humility makes you the best and the worst, Herb.
• Asked if the win today is a bigger deal to him than his Soviet goal, Rizzo says yes because if the US hadn’t won today, his goal against the Soviets would have just been another goal. Then he gushes about how proud he is to be a member of this team.
• Asked if he is proud of the three penalties his team killed in the third period, Herb actually makes a joke, quipping that sometimes his team likes to make things harder than they have to be. Then, being all deep, he suggests that maybe the penalties were what his team needed to win and to gather all their determination.
• Vice President Mondale comments in his annoying monotone that watching this team play was amazing, and then he puts Carter on the phone to congratulate Herb.
• Herb waxes poetic about the American way of life being the best for awhile. Anyone who says he wasn’t a bit of an idealist is wrong, lying, or permanently damaged from crack.
• Carter says nobody at the White House could get business done because they were too busy watching the game. I say that Carter’s failure to be productive, as it was chronic, should not be blamed on anyone but himself. Good job trying to pin your laziness on a bunch of college kids, Carter.
• Carter can’t wait to meet the boys at the White House, because he’s probably hoping their ability to be victorious at something will rub off on him. (Spoiler alert: it doesn’t, and the country elects Reagan instead.)
• Carter tells Herb to pass on to the boys how proud everyone is of them. Herb is probably internally cringing at all these gooey emotions.
• Carter wants to speak to the captain, so Herb puts Rizzo on the phone.
• Carter basically tells Rizzo to pass along to the team the message he just gave to Herb to give to the boys. Does Carter think Herb is senile or just a liar?
• In response to some other question that I can’t hear properly no matter how many times I rewind this scene, Herb talks about the good Lord working in mysterious ways. Now, of course, we would stone him for mentioning God on national television, but in 1980, that was perfectly acceptable and lovable.
• Lampley forgets the difference between left and right. (Helpful tip: If it’s the hand you place over your heart when you say the Pledge of Allegiance, it’s your right. If it’s the one where the fingers make an uppercase L when you hold them up, it’s your left.) In the end, though, he figures out which side of Herb Jimmy is on and drags the goaltender forward to be interviewed.

Jim Craig Interview:

• Jim’s red shirt has the top two buttons undone, showing some nice bare chest. How many girls back in 1980 do you think fell asleep dreaming of that?
• Jim just has an outpouring of emotion, talking about how amazing his team is in the third period of every game, and how he hopes he was able to keep them going with his performance in goal, since he had such faith in them, and he wants them to have felt the same way about him. My feelings are going to overwhelm me, and we haven’t even gotten to the Mark and Mac interviews. Where did I put the paper bag I set aside to hyperventilate into?
• Jim just unabashedly talks about how he loves all of his teammates. I would replay this moment forever, but then I would never get to see a 1980 Mac interview, so that is not an option, after all.
• When asked if he was worried about his team’s performance after the first period, Jim says he wasn’t because he felt like the boys had time to think and then played their hearts out in the third, getting the gold medal to prove that.

Mark Johnson Interview:

• It’s happening. The reporter is calling Mark out of the crowd of boys to be interviewed. I’m quaking so much that I can’t hold a pen properly to take notes.
• Mark is obviously embarrassed to be singled out for adulation, rubbing his ear and looking down. It’s hard to remember, but this modest creature destroyed Finland’s hope for a medal by driving a nail into their coffin with that shorthanded goal off his own rebound.
• Rizzo pets Mark Johnson on the head as he passes. Adorable overload.
• After basically being asked how it feels to be the star player, Mark launches into this answer about how one player doesn’t make a team, all twenty of them were necessary for the team’s success, and how happy he is for all his teammates. He is so sincere about every word and is essentially a flawless human being here.
• The reporter is just so awkward. He unnecessarily reaches out to grasp Mark’s shoulder for no real reason. Did he cut the class in journalism school about personal space or what?
• Asked about the climate in the locker room after the second period, Mark explains that everyone felt confident that they could win if they put their best effort into it. With every word, a smile just grows across his face, so by the end of his reply, it’s massive and totally dominating his face.
• Lampley congratulates Mark, and then starts looking around for Rob McClanahan behind him, which is kind of hilarious because the only thing behind him really is a wall, and in order to get behind Lampley, Rob would essentially have needed to cut through the middle of the interview in a totally awkward way. I just don’t know why in a packed room the first place to search for a person is the wall…

Rob McClanahan Interview:

• Rob does not materialize from the wall, but he does emerge, looking bashful, from a cluster of teammates, so Lampley will have his chance at being a hotshot investigative reporter.
• Lampley congratulates Rob for scoring the tie-breaking goal, and Rob says thank you and that it feels great.
• Robbie has this angelic grin on his face the whole time, and could he just stop being cute for five seconds so I could have a chance to sing my feelings? The pause button doesn’t even help because it just freezes him in a sweet pose. I am going to die of glee before this interview is over.
• Lampley asks if Rob saw the puck coming out to him in front of the net before he scored. Some journalists are paid to ask the difficult questions; others the easy ones. Lampley was plainly a case of the latter. If Lampley were in the army, his name would be Captain Obvious.
• For those who might have been getting popcorn not only during his goal but during the four or five replays, Rob describes his goal. He explains how he was standing in front of the net, and Mark was standing behind it. Then he and Mark looked at one another for what he claims felt like a few seconds although he admits that it might not actually have been that long. The rest, of course, is history: he slides the puck under the goalie’s legs, and the Miracle boys have their gold medal.
• This moment is one of the high points in my life, because it proves that the director of the movie Miracle was not making stuff up when he had Mark and Mac exchange entire sentences with their eyeballs in that scene where the boys tell Herb that Tim Harrer needs to take a hike. Apparently, Mark and Rob did that sort of thing all the time like the obnoxious line mates they are.
• Lampley asks if at the time before Rob scored with fifteen minutes left in the game whether he felt the team was becoming anxious, which is all the excuse Rob needs to launch into serious hockey analysis mode with a furrowed brow and widening eyes to emphasize important points. Don’t let the quiet Minnesota voice fool you. This dude is intense and would probably love to analyze stuff all day long, because it is a challenge.
• Rob relates how the team told themselves after the second period that all year, especially in this tournament, the third period had been their strongest one, and as long as they kept that in mind, they would be able to play their best hockey.
• Lampley congratulates Rob again and then pulls Rizzo forward for a final word. I want Mac back, but I guess Rizzo is okay, though Bill Baker would be even better, because his post-Sweden interview was awesome.

Rizzo Interview:

• Lampley askes Rizzo if he could have imagined this moment six months ago. Rizzo responds that he couldn’t have, because even though six months ago the team felt they had a shot at a medal, they didn’t believe they had a chance for the gold one. However, he says that after one game against the Russians and one against the Finns where they played with so much pride, they now have the gold medal.
• When asked what point the team started to believe they could take the gold, Rizzo answers after the game against the Czechs. After hammering the Czechs, the team felt they just had to defeat the Soviet union and the gold medal would probably be theirs.
• Rizzo agrees that the crowd was wonderful and supportive of the team, which was great, since the team was hoping to have the crowd behind them.

Breaking Down a Miracle: Part IV

Introduction:

This post is the penultimate one in my series about the 1980 American hockey team, and it will focus on the match against the Soviet Union as well as the post-game interviews with Jim Craig and Rizzo. Since so much has been written about this moment, which was dubbed by Sports Illustrated as the Greatest Sports Moment of the Twentieth Century, it requires no real introduction. For those of you who might be interested in following along, you can watch the full game here  or you can just drink in the highlights here. This is the Miracle on Ice, the triumph of the underdogs that inspired an entire nation and sparked the development of American hockey.  Let’s just travel back in time to that glorious February game…

United States versus Soviet Union:

• The broadcaster relates how Lake Placid was filled with excitement for the USA versus Soviet Union game from the moment he woke up that morning.
• He promises not to spoil the results even though the game was already played because he wants it to be a surprise to anyone who hadn’t heard the results (and presumably had been living under a couple feet of solid bedrock that day).
• He explains the round robin medal format. The teams from each division carry their record against the other team from their respective division. Thus, since Sweden and the US tie their game, they each go into the medal round with one point. Likewise, since the USSR defeated Finland in their match, the USSR will enter the medal round with two points to Finland’s zero.
• Seeding in the case of a tie, as in Sweden and the US, was determined by goal differential. Sweden had a better goal differential and got first seed for their division. That means they played Finland (second seed of the other division) first, while the US played the USSR first.
• Al Michaels tells us that tickets are being exchanged at three times their face value of $67. That’s an expensive ticket right there, folks, though it’s worth it to see a miracle.
• Ken Dryden (who has more Stanley Cup rings than he can fit on one hand, which is just obscene) talks about how for the US team this is a discovery time, because, to use his terminology, it’s one thing to be young and promising, and quite another to be good.
• Mark Johnson takes the opening faceoff against the Soviets, and just before the puck is dropped one of his teammates on the bench shouts, “Go on, Magic!” They actually used those nicknames for one another. I feel as mushy as a chocolate chip cookie fresh from the oven. Just let me melt here before the game continues.
• Jimmy is tested for the first time and has a good save.
• Eric Strobel gets in a check. Nice to see a skill player get physical from time to time.
• Bill Baker gets the puck out of his own end and skates it quickly up ice with some deft stickhandling.
• Silk scrabbles for the puck along the boards and passes it to Ramsey. I love how tenacious Silky is.
• The Soviets score off a pass from Krutov deflected in by the post.
• Broten explodes into the Soviet zone and passes smoothly to Christoff, who fires a shot on goal that sadly does not find the back of the net.
• Mark Johnson has a cute little maneuver where he skates up the ice and leaps over a Soviet skate, not even really slowing down in the process.
• Morrow has a scrabble along the boards for the puck.
• Jim has another big save.
• The Coneheads strike again. Pav passes to Buzz, who fires a slapshot that finds the back of the net, soaring over Tretiak’s head.
• Buzz and Pav have the best awkward line mate hug behind the Soviet goal to celebrate Buzz putting the US on the scoreboard. The awkwardness is a direct result of the height differential since Pav is only 5’8” tall, and Buzz is one of the few forwards on the team who isn’t a hockey midget. Buzz probably couldn’t give Pav a normal hug without looking like he was trying to strangle Pav. My brother, who is over a foot taller than me, has to do a similar one-armed squeeze with my head only coming up to his shoulder just like Pav’s only comes up to Buzz’s, so I totally sympathize, and find this sweet and hilarious.
• The crowd goes crazy with applause, and Herb takes a moment to release the breath he had probably been holding since the first puck drop and pull up the hideous ’70s style pants he chose to wear to the most important game he ever coached. Good thing he never went for a career in fashion. Ralph Lauren he wasn’t, but then again Ralph Lauren couldn’t coach a miracle, so there you go.
• The commentators remark that Buzz’s slapshot wasn’t the kind of goal you would expect Tretiak to allow. I’ll agree since Tretiak was in completely the wrong position to block the shot, and I would assume that a goalie with multiple Olympic and World gold medals has better positioning skills. I will just say that I think every great goaltender can be forgiven for playing a sloppy game or two. This was one of Tretiak’s but that shouldn’t detract too much from his legacy as one of the best goalies to ever play the sport, and I don’t think it has.
• Jim has a gorgeous glove save. Those are always exciting to watch.
• Rizzo has a shot on the Soviet goal but doesn’t get lucky this time.
• Makarov tallies for the Soviet Union when his shot is deflected into the net off Morrow’s skate. Krutov and Makarov, in their first Olympics, really show how they would go on to dominate all competition in subsequent Olympics and World Championships as two vital components of the KLM line, one of the most feared offensive lines in hockey history. Krutov and Makarov represent the new guard of Soviet players in Lake Placid, and they are incredible forwards.
• Broten is painfully close to scoring but the puck goes through the crease. I’m going to have no nails left to bite by the time this period ends.
• Christian has a slapshot that doesn’t go in and which everyone would think was the last desperate American bid to tie the score before the period is over, but everybody forgot to take Mark Johnson, the loose cannon, into account.
• Mark Johnson skates around the Soviet defenseman and fires the puck into the net with one second remaining in the first period. This just proves that a goal in the last second of play counts the same as a goal in the first second, so no slacking for anyone ever. Talk about a clutch performance. If this Olympic team were an NHL one, Buzz would be the guy who carries the team through the regular season, and Mark would be the one who finds an extra gear to shift to utterly destroy the oppositions in the playoffs.
• Herb has a small celebratory fist pump. He does feel emotions besides anger. It is confirmed on national television.
• The American team has a fest of hugging and helmet patting while the crowd waves flags all over the arena.
• The American players cluster around the ref who confirms that the goal is valid since one second remains in the period. That’s a fortunate thing for the ref, because would anyone really want to say no to those adorable American boys? It would be like drowning puppies.
• The Soviet Union went back to their locker room (probably to be vivisected by Tikhonov), but the ref needs to drop the puck again as one second remains in play.
• Only three Soviet players, Krutov, Makarov, and the backup goaltender Myshkin return to the ice for the faceoff.
• The announcer comments on how incredible it is for the Americas to be tied with the Soviets at two goals apiece when the Soviets thrashed a team of NHL All-Stars a few months ago.
• The game is back, and Myshkin remains in the net for the second period with Tretiak, looking as devastated as goaltenders do when benched, on the sidelines. It is worth noting that one of the most contested (and oft-condemned) moments in hockey coaching history was the benching of Tretiak in this game. Hockey scholars can debate whether the Americans would still have won with Tretiak in the net the whole game, although in Tikhonov’s defense, it seems only fair to note that Tretiak was (by his standards) struggling in the Lake Placide tournament, and Myshkin was an excellent goalie in his own right. He wasn’t some green guy who had never set skate in a crease.
• Bah is sent to the penalty box for a minor holding penalty.
• The commentators compliment the US penalty-killing unit for keeping play out of their zone.
• Maltsev scores on a breakaway at the end of the penalty when the Americans lose control of the puck at center ice.
• Jim falls on the puck behind the net and gets a two-minute penalty for delaying the game, which will be served by Eric Strobel because goalies never serve their own penalties.
• Mark is a beast at clearing the zone repeatedly during this penalty.
• Strobel is back, so that penalty has been successfully killed.
• Jim hits his head on the post when he is knocked over by a Soviet player while making a save and falls to the ice. He actually blacked out during that, so, in the modern NHL, he would have been forced to take a fifteen minute break, but here is allowed to just keep playing.
• There is a four-on-four with Morrow called for cross-checking and a Soviet player for unsportsmanlike conduct.
• There is a fluff piece on Jim Craig. We hear about how his mother died of cancer while Jimmy was in college at BU, and we see how much of a family guy Jimmy is when he talks about what an upstanding man his dad is. Where did I put my Kleenex? I thought I wouldn’t need them until the end of the game.
• Krutov is called for high-sticking and hopefully the Americans will score a power-play goal since it might give the commentators something to do besides criticize the American defense (particularly Rammer).
• Mark Johnson is so clutch. He scores with thirteen seconds left in the power play as the commentators were yammering on about how this was probably the Americans’ last run up the ice in the power play. It’s like this kid can score on command. Every American should love him forever just for these two goals.
• Herb has a larger celebratory fist pump, and the crowd goes wild.
• Mark Johnson disappears in a group hug of head-patting teammates. Can I just go back in time and hug them all?
• Back on the bench, Mark gives the camera a little smile when it flashes on him. My heart is breaking because this munchkin is too precious.
• This Miracle team is such a team of destiny. Just as the commentators are ripping into the Americans again (because it has been over a minute since Mark Johnson last scored) and saying they are relying on Jim Craig to make too many saves (even though the puck is in the Soviet end at the moment), Rizzo takes advantage of the opportunity to score and silence the critics or commentators. He deserves to get lucky since he had some nice shots that didn’t find the back of the net earlier in the game.
• Herb does an even bigger celebratory fist pump that will eventually be immortalized in statue, Rizzo does a run with his stick in the air, and the crowd loses its collective mind.
• Herb manages to swallow a smile as the American team gathers around Rizzo for a group hug and head pat session.
• Buzz and a Soviet player get into a brief scuffle along the boards. Buzz ends up with the Soviet’s stick, and when the Soviet player holds out a hand to get it back, Buzz tosses it on the ice instead. This is a riot. Mild-mannered Buzz has a flash of temper, and I find it about as hilarious as that epic moment when as a Devil Scott Niedermayer (never much of an enforcer) got into a fight with a Ranger, got a Ranger jersey wrapped around his head in the process, and kicked that Ranger jersey sky high in gesture of pure disdain before he went to the penalty box.
• Morrow and the defenseman are simply heroic here, throwing their bodies in front of shots. I bet they had tons of bruises in the shape of a puck afterward, but it’s a price they were willing to pay for a gold medal.
• Herb is an evil genius with delaying tactics. He calls Mark Johnson over to the bench before the faceoff so the ref has to waste time calling Mark back.
• Ramsey gets in some nice defense maneuvers and finally receives a compliment from the commentators who have spent a good part of this game tearing into him for positioning issues.
• A shot of Herb Brooks pacing the bench and reminding his players to “play your game” repeatedly like a mantra.
• The commentators are now praising the Americans for giving a great performance as underdogs. What a dramatic change in tone from a second before Rizzo’s goal. You can see the final minute of the game and hear Al’s eternal call here.
• The commentators suggest that the Soviets will be put in the unusual position of having to pull their goaltender but this never happens because Tikhonov appears to forget that is an option in hockey.
• Jim has a lot of brilliant saves in the last thirty seconds of play.
• The crowd is so loud and excited that you can hear them counting down the remaining seconds. My blood is pounding. I can’t handle this.
• The immortal Al Michaels’ question and answer, “Do you believe in miracles? Yes!”
• The American boys hug and roll around on the ice. This is too precious to watch.
• The Soviets watch the jubilee with stunned expressions. They aren’t used to losing or to feeling the exhalation the Americans demonstrate when they win.
• The teams do the traditional handshakes.

Post-Game Jim Craig Interview:

• When asked if he could feel the crowd’s emotion down on the ice, Jim says he could feel it throughout the game but especially in the final ten minutes.
• The reporter asks whether Jim felt nationalism had anything to do with the crowd’s emotions. Jim says yes but there were also just a lot of hockey fans in the arena.
• That’s the end of the interview. I was expecting more, but now let’s hear from Rizzo.

Post-Game Rizzo Interview:

• Rizzo talks about how during the second period he tried to give his teammates an opportunity to re-group and the Soviets a chance to lose momentum when he spoke with the ref after the Soviets had been putting a ton of shots on Jim’s net.
• Rizzo reconstructs his game-winning goal: he came on the ice, got a pass from Pav, and used the Soviet defenseman as a screen for his shot in a nutshell.

Breaking Down a Miracle: Part III

Introduction:

This post is a continuation of my series of commentary on the 1980 US Olympic hockey teams, so it is recommended that you read the first post (focusing on the games against Sweden and Czechoslovakia) and the second post (focusing on the highlights of all the pool games as well as interviews with Bill Baker, Herb Brooks, and Rizzo) before proceeding with this one. The American match game against the Norwegians will be the center of this installment, and, in an attempt to avoid redundancies with the notes on the highlights of the Norwegian match, I have striven to emphasize aspects of the game, such as the penalty-happy referee, that the differences in coverage drew my attention to. Hopefully, readers will enjoy this post and will be looking forward to reading about the actual Miracle on Ice in the next post in this series.

Notes on the full U.S. versus Norway Game:

 

• Al Michaels talks about how the US has faced its toughest division opponents (Sweden and Czechoslovakia, respectively), but people fear a let down with the Norwegians, who are regarded as the division’s weakest team.
• Al Michaels observes that its important for the US team of “recent achievers” not to take for granted victories over teams they were seen as about equal to at the start of the Olympics and to continue to play their best to maintain their momentum.
• The Coneheads take the opening faceoff and get in a few shots on goal, which gives Al Michaels a chance to remark on how effective Buzz had been offensively in the previous match against the Czechs.
• Al Michaels just casually mentions Morrow getting a separated shoulder in the last game against the Czechs, and I’m thinking, “Hold on. How do you separate your shoulder without becoming a twitching mound on the ice?” That’s Ken Morrow for you, though. Such a solid defensive player who could separate his shoulder and not miss a beat or a shift, and who could probably have added more hardware to his three Stanley Cup rings and Olympic gold medal if he hadn’t been plagued by injuries in his pro career.
• The camera kind of creepily pans over to Herb Brooks during a lull in the action, and, although I know that he’s probably barking orders at his players, it looks hilariously like he’s talking to himself, which I’m sure the stress of the Olympic tour could do to anyone. We’re also reminded for perhaps the hundredth time that he is the University of Minnestoa coach who spent seven years with the Gophers. Clearly fluff was just as annoying back in 1980 as it is today. Comforting to have proof that some things never change.
• The Americans are on the power play, because the Norwegian captain decided it was an excellent time to be sent to the penalty box for a two minute minor. We don’t see or hear his actual infraction since the cameras were too busy zeroing in on Herb.
• The American power play struggles to gain energy and cohesion, so the Norwegians keep the puck out of their zone via icing, which is legal when a team is shorthanded.
• Mark Johnson gets called for tripping, and as he goes to the penalty box, we get reminded of how he was injured at the end of last game. Are they trying to make me cry? Where the heck did I put my Kleenex? I thought that I wouldn’t need them for this game since none of my babies (Rob McClanahan and Mark Johnson in case you forgot since I last fangirled obnoxiously over them) got hurt, but here are the commentators ready to remind me of every scratch they’ve ever suffered. Not fair.
• For some reason unbeknownst to me, the commentators insist on referring to a four-on-four as a “five aside,” which sounds like a side dish you can order with ketchup at a grill. I’ve never heard that terminology before, and I had to remember to count the goalie for each team before I could figure out what they were chattering on about. I’m still going to use for purposes of this blog the phrase four-on-four, so I don’t confuse myself. I just wanted to broaden my audience’s hockey vocabulary.
• Ramsey, falling to the ice, gets in a shot on the Norwegian goal, but it is blocked wide. Too bad. It would have been awesome to see a defenseman score during a four-on-four.
• Morrow does a great job manning his post and sticking to the opposing player like glue along the boards behind the net.
• Strobel glides in a circle around the Norwegian net, and passes smoothly to Ramsey, whose shot it caught by the Norwegian goaltender. Why are none of your shots going in, Rammer? It’s making me sad, though not nearly as sad as the fact that you played for Scotty Bowman all those years and never got a Stanley Cup.
• The Norwegian captain is back, so the US will have to penalty kill for a couple of seconds.
• The Norwegian goaltender gives up quite a few sloppy rebounds.
• Buzz and a Norwegian player get tangled up near the net, and there’s a whistle.
• The camera, for not real reason, zooms in on Herb again. This time he is chewing on his knuckle. Guess he wanted a knuckle sandwich.
• These commentators are kind of annoying. Every two seconds, they remind us that Mark Johnson is still in the penalty box. Here’s a novel idea: just inform us when he gets out, and spend the rest of the time announcing what’s going on in the game. I’m  a big Mark Johnson fan, but I really don’t need to hear about him being in the penalty box every two seconds. That’s not very exciting, thanks.
• Another penalty called against Norway for interference. This ref is pretty strict, but at least he seems equally stringent for both sides.
• Norway scores on a shot from the point deflected off Jim Craig. Technically, it was a defensive lapse for the US, but I’ve seen much worse from the 2013 NJ Devils, so I’m not even going to really comment on the defensive breakdown except to acknowledge that, yeah, it happened.
• Mark Johnson is out of the box, but Verchota immediately is sent to fill it (Phil fills it, get it? Very punny, I know) for elbowing. I don’t really like this ref, even though he is fair. I am as big a proponent of clean hockey as it’s possible to be (my favorite players are always clean, skill guys), but this ref calls way too much, resulting in a choppy game where no real momentum is gained for either side. It’s not that exciting to watch, and with all these stoppage of plays to announce penalties, this could end up being the only game in hockey history that lasts five hours without going into a single overtime. This guy needs to chill with calling people for everything but breathing.
• Four-on-four could be the dominant playing pattern for this game with this ref, though.
• It’s ten minutes into the game, and the commentators are already ripping into the Americans about letting people down. Um, there are like fifty minutes of play left. Relax. The US is getting some scoring opportunities. It’s not as if Norway is skating loops around them, and the only Norwegian goal was on a power play, not at even strength.
• Ramsey does a good job containing Norway at the blue line.
• A Norwegian player is called for highsticking Ramsey against the boards, so the US has a man advantage in a four-on-three. (Verchota is still in timeout for elbowing.)
• The commentators also don’t like the refs style, saying that players prefer when teams are skating at even strength for the most part, because when everything anyone ever does is called, a lot of unusual line combinations are thrown out on the ice with sometimes less than stellar results.
• One of the Norway players is back, so we have a four-on-four, but the commentators are so confused by all the penalties that they mistakenly say each team will have five skaters instead of four.
• Verchota is free, so the US now has five skaters to the Norwegian four.
• Christoff gets in some sweet skating and stickhandling.
• Glove save by Jim. Cool to watch.
• Ramsey gets in a beautiful rush on the Norwegian goal. He doesn’t score, but he again shows how dynamic a defenseman he is. The more I see of this kid, the more I love him.
• Buzz comes in with a breakaway, and I get so excited thinking he is going to score that I nearly spill my tea all over my laptop, but the Norwegian goaltender ruins the party with a nice save.
• Buzz gets a penalty for charging a Norwegian into the boards. Another penalty. Ho-hum. The penalty kill units for each team are certainly getting a workout this game.
• The commentators speculate as the camera pans over to Herb again that he’ll have some heated words for his team in the locker room. That’s probably the closest thing to a sure bet that exists in hokey. I mean, if you saw the movie Miracle you know how he skated those guys after tying with the Norwegians. Happy memories galore for the Americans, yes.
• Morrow legally ices the puck to kill some time in the penalty.
• Bill Baker shows his stickhandling skills and sends the puck into the Norwegian zone.
• Buzz is back.
• Wells takes the faceoff. Hello, Wellsy. Good to see you.
• Broten and Christoff get into a scrabble along the boards. Seeing Neal the puppy get physical reminds me of his famed fight with the Great One, Wayne Gretzky, so if anyone tries to tell you that the Miracle boys aren’t goo, point out that Neal Broten took on Wayne Gretzky. That will say all that needs to be said.
• Pav takes the opening faceoff for the second period, and we get the camera zooming in on his adorable features.
• A Norwegian is sent to the penalty box for tripping. Big surprise there, since this ref adheres to the school of thought that the penalty box should never be empty.
• Rizzo scores off a deflection fifteen seconds into this power play, so, basically, just as Rizzo rallied the troops in the game against the Czechs, he does the same in the match against the Norwegians. Not bad for a guy famous for one winning goal against the Soviets.
• Wells and Verchota are quite interesting to watch. They have some good passing and aren’t afraid to get physical along the boards.
• Verchota fires a shot on goal but the puck fails to find the back of the net.
• There’s a scuffle near the near, and, shockingly, the ref, accessing no penalties, does not take advantage of this marvelous opportunity to give everyone on ice five minute roughing penalties. How uncharacteristic. I hope his body has not been taken over by aliens.
• Al Michaels described Pav as incredibly small but extremely quick and a good stickhandler. Seems as apt as description of this unconventional forward as any out there.
• Mark Johnson scores off a beautiful pass from Rob McClanahan, who was trapped along the boards. Nice way for the US to take the lead. Gosh, I love these two in case the whole world doesn’t realize that by now.
• Ouch, Bah is hooked into the boards by Norwegian, but a penalty is accessed for the Norwegian, and I actually support the ref’s decision here. Perhaps he is getting more competent as the game progresses.
• Pav has a smooth assist on a rapid fire goal from Silky. This ends in a lovely hug fest for our Miracle boys. Hockey doesn’t get much cuter than this, folks.
• After a brief spat along the boards, a Norwegian is penalized for slashing, and Strobel is sent to the penalty box for holding, so we’ll have a four-on-four for about the umpteenth time this game. Strobel hangs his head in the box when the camera flashes over him, and I want to travel back in time just to give him a reassuring hug.
• Strobel and the Norwegian are back.
• Nice save by Jim. He drops and covers the puck very well.
• There are two seconds left in the second period, so Herb pulls Jim to put in an extra man for the faceoff at the Swedish end, because even if the Norwegians win the faceoff, the puck will not cross the American goal line before time expires in the period.
• The Americans win the faceoff and fire in a shot on goal that does not go in.
• Rizzo gets into a scrabble with a Norwegian after time is called, but the refs pull them apart before any damage can be done to either player.
• Norway begins the third period in style with a hook that sends Rob McClanahan into the boards and onto the ice. The two minute penalty is given, and I wonder if the Norwegian coach forgot to mention to his team that hockey is won by getting the most goals, not penalties. Anyway, this early power play opportunity is déjà vu of the one that opened the second period with Rizzo’s goal.
• Wells scores off his own rebound, and his wild glee at scoring makes my heart soar. He deserves more moments like this in his life, that’s for sure.
• Bill Baker gets a two minute penalty for tripping.
• Norway really lacks cohesion on this penalty, and the Americans are very effective with killing the penalty by keeping the puck in the Norwegian end of the rink.
• Johnson, McClanahan, and Strobel have some good passing and shots on goal, but sadly none of them go in.
• Ken Morrow fires a slapshot that finds the back of the net. This gives the US a bang of a finish rather than a whimper.
• McClanahan skates the puck down the ice and has a neat drop pass to Christoff before Norway takes the puck again.
• Verchota gets in a nice shot on goal.
• Suter  gets into a fight with a Norwegian, and they both get double minors.
• Bill Baker gets an interference penalty, but the US wins like two seconds later anyway. Kind of anticlimactic ending except for all the Miracle boys hugging on the ice afterward.