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 Movie: The Stars versus the Olympians

After the confrontation in the creepy hallway, it’s time for the game between the North Stars and the US Olympians. The game coverage begins with an annoying announcer’s voice providing the commentary: “From the Metropolitan Sports Center in Bloomington, Minnesota, home of the Minnesota North Stars, it’s the North Stars of the National Hockey League against US Olympic team.” What a pompous guy, referring to the National Hockey League instead of just calling it the NHL like virtually everyone else on the planet. I already dislike this announcer even more than Pierre McGuire, which is saying something since the following meme depicts my relationship with Pierre McGuire’s NHL commentary quite succinctly:

Getting past my detest-at-first-hearing feelings for the commentator of this Stars and US Olympic team game, it’s time for us to listen in as the US team completes a warm-up skate. As they circle the arena, Buzz asks Les Auge, “Hey, how are you feeling?”

Shrugging repeatedly, Les Auge replies, “Oh, I don’t know. I don’t feel ready, you know.” What a weird answer. If you don’t feel ready, then you know exactly how you feel, so don’t start off by saying that you don’t have a clue what emotions you are experiencing, because it makes you sound like this:

“Yeah, I do,” Rizzo answers, “but for me, it’s now or never, you know?” I feel like “you know” has been really overused in this conversation by now, you know? I think we should disembowel the scriptwriters, you know, for making us listen to this drivel, you know. You know, someone should have explained to them that an excessive amount of “you know” doesn’t add veracity to dialogue; what it contributes is aggravation that will heighten a lot of viewers’ blood pressure.

Shifting away from the warm-ups, the camera pans over the crowd, and then we are informed by the pompous announcer, “Ready for the opening faceoff now between Johnson and Bernard. ”

Bernard opens the game’s trash talk with this charming comment, “Keep your head up, Johnson. It’s gonna be a long night for everyone. Tonight you play hard ball.” I guess this rather lame attempt at an intimidation tactic is Bernard’s way of warning Mark that he’s supposedly going to spend the night celebrating like this if he wins a faceoff:

Mark wins the faceoff but he shouldn’t bother rejoicing, since, as soon as he passes the puck to Robbie, Robbie coughs up the puck almost immediately because maintaining puck possession or even going with a dump-and-chase style is so passé. Way to set a strong tone like a first line winger should, Robbie.

As the action lumbers along, it becomes increasingly clear that the actors who play the Olympians (and the North Stars) entire hockey experience is limited to once having participated in a round of Nok Hockey at the pool. None of these guys can skate or pass, nonetheless skate and pass at the same time, so watching this part of the movie is just brutal to anyone who has ever seen a hockey game or even just imagined what one might be like to witness. It’s only a short but excruciating time before the US Olympic team’s terrible technique results in a breakaway opportunity for the North Stars because nobody on the US squad can figure out how to give or receive a pass and certainly nobody thought to hang back on defense:

Steve Guttenberg, who is ridiculously uncoordinated in this segment of the film, reaches for the totally wrong part of the net in a sad stab at a glove save, and, of course, the North Stars score, leading me to believe that the block of wood in Nok Hockey is a better goaltender than Steve Guttenberg, so pick that slab of wood for your fantasy hockey team before Steve Guttenberg.

On the bench, Herb tries to steady the crew by shouting, “All right. Pavelich, Schneider, Harrington.” As the Coneheads climb over the bench for a line change, Herb is probably asking himself:

The commentator babbles on about how this game is, “A tough initiation for the US Olympic team after coming back from a ten game tour of Europe. That have to accustomize themselves to a physical, North American style.” That’s kind of an odd statement to make. The players on the US Olympic team would have been raised with the more physical North American style. Being that they aren’t goldfish, I think they’d be fine transitioning back to the North American style after only a few weeks of playing the European version because they have things called long term memory and muscle memory.

At this point, we have an awkward blend of actual footage of the North Stars and Olympic team game and shots of Karl Malden on the bench. It all just comes across as very clunky. The real footage destroys any suspension of disbelief that might still exist in the audience by reminding us that Karl Malden isn’t really Herb Brooks and the actors bumbling around on ice aren’t really the Miracle boys. What should have been done was either using all fake footage or relying entirely on the real footage of the game for this part of the movie, because this mixing-and-matching effect isn’t working.

This montage reaches a climax when Christian gets into a fight and then everyone else on the team piles into the fray in a bench-clearing brawl since if you can’t beat them on the scoreboard you might as well beat them with your fists. Apparently having sustained permanent brain damage from his stint in the NHL, Patrick asks what this is and is informed by Herb that it’s a “crowd pleaser.”

Then we’re back in the locker room, where Herb addresses his team, remarking, “Sometimes a good kick in the butt is good for a top athlete. It helps them grow, build a team. I can’t say that you played well out there tonight. The score could have been worse. It could have been worse than four goals to two, but you’ve got to give your all all the time. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. And we’ve still got to get down to twenty players before we face the Russians, and they’re hungry but really hungry. I keep telling you over and over and over, if you want to do your best, depend on each other, all of you, especially Craig and Eruzione.”

In other words, Herb is asking his team (especially Craig and Eruzione, since that’s the movie’s new clever inside joke that makes me want to trample over plants):

“If you want to be your best,” Herb bellows, “then skate together as a team and not for yourselves.”

The guy sitting next to Rizzo whose name and number I can’t read whispers to Mike, “I think he hates you.”

Mike mutters back, “I get the feeling.” Obviously, the boys think that Herb sits around, jabbing fingers at the roster and exclaiming:

“Quiet, Mike,” Herb orders, remembering to actually follow the rules of his name scheme.

Mike says, “Yes, sir.” Then he asks the person next to him, “Did he call me ‘Mike’?”

Well, what this script lacks in the subtlety department, it makes up for in sheer stupidity by thinking that everyone in the audience is as dumb as the scriptwriters, because the terrible joke refuses to die a natural death, as Herb states, “Yes, Mike. You heard right.” I’d threaten to kill a plant for every time this dead horse of a joke gets revived for another flogging, but I don’t want to destroy the Amazon, so I’ll try to control my burning rage.

Continuing to roam around the locker room, Herb rants on, “Tonight you had a chance to skate against the pros. Ask yourselves if you were ready for them, and then stop to think how tough the pros found the Russians. If you don’t respect them, you can’t respect yourselves. Practice tomorrow morning ten o’clock.”

With that, Herb leaves the locker room and steps out into the corridor, where Patty greets him, commenting, “You look pleased.”

“I am,” Herb declares as dramatic music throbs in the background as it must for every important piece of dialogue in this film. “Tonight they became a team.”

Wrapping her elbow in Herb’s, Patty inquires, “Does that mean you’ll win?”

Shaking his head, Herb, ever the downer, responds, “Not necessarily, but if we lose, we’re going to do it together.” In other words, Herb is saying:

There can’t be a much nobler team sentiment than that, so on that note, we’ll end this discussion until next time.

 

Breaking Down a Miracle on Ice Movie: A Musical and Pictorial Odyssey through Europe

Now that Herb’s rattled a can under important people’s noses to fundraise pennies for his boys, the scene shifts to an airport. Inside one of the planes, Coach Patrick is shouting at the team to settle down because he wants to take a headcount, just as if this were an elementary school field trip.

After boarding the plane and flirting with a stewardess, OC (whose arrival proves that Coach Patrick should have waited until the final boarding call to begin his headcount) calls out to Coach Patrick that there’s a reporter outside wanting to interview Jimmy.

Leaning over Rizzo’s seat, Coach Patrick asks if Mike’s heard from Jimmy and Rizzo replies that he hasn’t, but he supposes that Jimmy’s going to show. This is a really weird conversation, to be honest. Shouldn’t Coach Patrick, who presumably booked the plane tickets, have the best idea of who is coming on the trip? Why would you buy planes tickets without being certain of how many people are going, and how do you, if you are in a position of authority on a journey, board a plane without a complete tally of how many members are in your group? Also, why even attempt a headcount if you aren’t sure how many heads you are supposed to be counting? Is it just to soothe pre-flight nerves or something? At this rate, I wouldn’t be surprised if this travel scenario ended as well as wrong way one during the cross-country trip in Dumb and Dumber did:

Craning his head to address OC, Coach Patrick instructs OC to just tell the reporter that Herb doesn’t allow interviews. This is a good piece of characterization since Herb’s hostile attitude toward interaction with the media was very reminiscent of Tortorella:

Showing how different plane security was back then, OC just gets off the plane to pass this message along to the reporter, whereas now he wouldn’t be allowed to just turn around and get off the plane, and the reporter wouldn’t have been allowed near the runway without a boarding pass.

A moment later, Jim bounds onto the plane and is greeted with a lot of playful swats from his teammates because:

As he takes his seat, Jim comments, “You guys aren’t going to the hotspots of Europe without me.” Then there is a lot of laughter and corny (and rather inaudible) joking about this statement. After that, while dramatic music swells in the background, the plane takes off, and the team has officially embarked on their European adventure.

The next scene takes place in Amsterdam (which is in the Netherlands for all of those who failed Geography 101), as the boys exit a hotel and board a bus. Still chomping on his ever-present wad of gum, OC saunters up to Pav and announces, “Hey, I’ll do you a favor, I’ll sit with you even though you are from Minneapolis.” I hope Pav responds like that soldier in the Monty Python French Taunter scene, which in my opinion is one of the pinnacles of British comedy:

Pav’s response is almost as epic. He scoots over to steal the seat OC was about to slip into, and when OC appears baffled by this slight, the guy sitting behind Pav (whom I believe is Bah, but can’t be sure since half the characters in this film all look the same and should be forced to wear their numbers and uniforms all the time so they can be distinguished from one another even if that is the dystopian plot of a thousand futuristic novels) taps Pav on the shoulder and informs OC, “What the troubadour is trying to say is he’s not from Minneapolis.”

Spreading his hands, OC says, “Okay, I’m sorry, all right?” After a moment’s hesitation, Pav relents and moves over so OC can join him. Lounging in his chair, OC asks Pav, “So, where’d you say you guys were from—the Iron Range? It’s the same thing as Minneapolis, isn’t it?” Yes, OC, a place with the term Range in it is obviously near the Twin Cities. At this point, I can just see OC thinking this on the bus ride through Europe:

“Sure,” Pav scoffs, not tolerating OC’s Boston ignorance and arrogance, “like South Boston is the same thing as Beacon Hill. You guys are really dumb about the rest of the country, you know that? We’re just as poor as you or Craig, so why don’t you just lay off the upside-down snobbery, huh?” Rock on, Pav. You tell him.

OC exchanges a glance with Rizzo, who is sitting across the aisle from him, and then Coach Patrick climbs into the bus, calling, “Okay, it’s going to be about ten hours before we get there.” When the bus fills with groans, he raises his voice even further: “Listen up, listen up, everybody is responsible for their own equipment just like here. Okay?”

There is a chorus of acknowledgement, and then Rizzo wants to know, “Hey, Patty, do we have to keep on our suit coats and ties or what?”

Coach Patrick tells the guys to get comfortable, and as everybody loosens their ties, he demands cheerfully, “Where’s my seat?”

Some banter ensues, and then OC stands up, telling Coach Patrick that he can take his seat if he doesn’t mind sitting in the kiddie section. Then Rizzo rises and takes OC’s seat, saying, “Take mine, Patty. I got it warm for you.” It’s like musical chairs or a Chinese fire drill.

As he slides into Rizzo’s empty seat, Coach Patrick opines, “You guys never let up, do you?”

Rizzo looks at Pav and remarks, “I guess we’re all a little homesick, huh?” Pav gives a small smile, and then Herb enters the bus, and the atmosphere drops to sub zero temperatures as the bus drives off.

Plucking away at his guitar, Pav serenades us with “The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round” since this is a family friendly film, after all, Just kidding. He really offers a rendition of Simon and Garfunkel’s “America.”

As Pav sings that tune, a montage of various moments from the team’s games in Europe flash across the screen, so I recommend that you hum the tune to yourself as I take you on a meme journey of the European games.

Les Auge gets smashed into the boards and is probably thinking:

Pav gets in a scuffle along the boards to show us all the definition of hockey:

Broten (whose last name is spelled correctly on his jersey) scores a goal, and it’s so awesome:

Christian has a goal, too:

Ramsey uses his backside to send an opponent into a somersault:

Then we’re back on a plane for the flight back home for America, as the whirlwind tour of Europe is done. As Ken returns to his seat, a stewardess asks for his autograph, which he gives to her. There’s whistling and college boy teasing, and then when Ken sits down, Jim asks why the married guys get all the attention. I’m sure their wives would also be interested in that answer. Maybe this isn’t such a family friendly film, after all.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ken answers. “She’ll get to you. They’re all big hockey fans in her country. She wants all the autographs.”

Leaning forward from the row behind Ken, Bill chimes in, “It’s about time we got a little respect.”

“Oh yeah?” Ken replies. “Well, according to her, there’s no way we’re going to beat the Russians.”

Rob, who is sitting next to Ken, shakes his head dismissively, and comments in a very smug tone, “Oh, that comes from living too close to the Soviets. It’s called geopolitical absorption.” Now, that may sound confusing, folks, but just remember, Rob’s only using sophisticated words to dress up a basic fact that everyone except evil egomaniacs like Napoleon and Hitler learned in European history, and those who don’t learn in boring class discover in a very painful practice:

“Geopolitical absorption, Robbie?” echoes OC, and this whole conversation is so hilarious, because these two are bantering about Cold War global politics, which is totally true to both their characters. “That’s the poet in you right?”

“Wrong,” Rob sasses back. “Political Science 401. It’s a fancy word that means being scared of the guy who lives next store.”

“Yeah, well, wait until we get to Lake Placid,” scoffs OC. “We’ll see who absorbs who.” This is all starting to sound very Freudian, but really this geopolitical debate was very amusing in an extremely intellectual way like the constitutional peasant scene from Monty Python and the Holy Grail although the script and the acting are obviously inferior by light-years but why quibble over minor details.

There are a lot of grins to go around at this remark, and then Rizzo states as the stewardess starts collecting everyone’s signatures, “What I wouldn’t give to beat them. It sure would make up for a lot.”

As Rizzo gives his autograph to the stewardess, Bill addresses her thus: “Excuse me. I have it on good authority that you want details on our secret plan to beat the Russians.”

“Secret?” repeats the stewardess, following the traditional airline approach of being as rude as possible to the customer. “What is this secret plan? I saw your game last night. You’ll never beat the Soviet Union. Never.”

The secret plan, as devised by Herb, silly stewardess, is to lull the Soviet Union into a false sense of superiority by putting on poor performances like the one in Madison Square Garden before the Olympics, and then just dominating in the medal round.

There’s an awkward silence, and then OC declares, “We’ll see about that.” Then the scene ends by panning out to a shot of the plane soaring through the clouds, and on that note I’ll leave all my lovely readers to fly about their lovely business until the next installment. I hope everyone enjoyed their musical and pictorial trip through Europe. Please take all your belongings out of the overhead compartment before departing the cyberplane.

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: Herb’s Warm Welcome

Ladies and gentlemen of the blog world, I’m pleased to announce that I’ve found some spare time between watching playoff hockey and working my rear end off for pennies to see the next segment of Miracle on Ice. Since I’m sure that you’re all quivering masses of excitement at the prospect, I’ll get on with the welcome the boys will be receiving to the trials, so hold onto your hats because this wagon doesn’t have any brakes and will be smashing through Colorado Springs.

In case you didn’t pick up on the subtle hint in the last sentence, these trials take place in Colorado Springs, which, as the name suggests, is in North Dakota, just as Baja California is in Mexico. Just kidding, of course. Colorado Springs is really in Colorado, unlike Baja California, which actually is in Mexico. Look it up if you think I’m a typical American who can’t navigate her way off her block with a GPS and a map.

A bus pulls up to the curb, and a stream of hockey players climb out, carrying their equipment. This river of hockey players includes Rob McClanahan, the guy I’m referring to as Steve Christoff until proof (which could be a long time in coming given this movie’s penchant to not give characters names) that he’s not arrives, and a blond dude I’m going to assume is Eric Strobel on the basis of hair color and age. What I mean by that is Rob, Steve, and Eric were all in the same class at the University of Minnesota, so, even if they weren’t friends, they still might find it somewhat reassuring to show up to trials together, because the devil you know is less scary than the one from Michigan, Wisconsin, or—God forbid—Massachusetts that you don’t know, right? Yeah, operating under that unassailable logic, the blond dude is definitely Eric Strobel until someone in the movie calls him by another name.

Rob, the guy who will be known as Steve for the time being, and the dude I’m presuming is Eric gawk at their surroundings for a bit, because Minnesota boys just don’t get out enough obviously, bless their hearts. While they drink in Colorado Springs, Eric says in a tone that sounds uncannily like a stoned skateboarder, “Wow, this is awesome! It makes me feel important.” Want to know one thing that isn’t awesome? This atrocious dialogue.

Getting beyond the fact that I’m cringing in embarrassment over dialogue that I wasn’t even born yet when it was written and so am in no way responsible for (so my audience should not point their pitchforks at me), Eric really should break his addiction before he’s subjected to a random drug test at the Olympics. After all, the only team allowed to have a drug-enhanced performance was the Soviet team. Should you think I’m being bigoted implying the Soviets cheated in international hockey competitions, check out Igor Larionov’s accounts of the suspicious injections members of the Soviet National team received annually leading up to the World Championships, which he insists that he, Krutov, Makarov, Fetisov, and Kasatonov all refused. The Soviet hockey program was so wacky that I don’t have to make stuff up for this blog to be exciting and scandalous.

Now that we’ve addressed the specter of suspicious Soviet injections, we can get back to the movie, where Rob, fiddling with his bag, tells his friends (who may or may not be named Eric and Steve) to “get over there for a second” so he can take a picture. Basically, Rob is that friend who you think you’ll have fun visiting the Lincoln Memorial with but who actually makes it so you never get to see much of the monument because you have to pause at every step to snap a photo.

Steve (or whoever he is) doesn’t think this is a Kodak moment, so he groans, “Come on, Robbie. Let’s stash our gear.”

Since Rob, like most tyrants with cameras, is not about to be dissuaded this easily, he responds, “No way. I promised your dad.” Jeez, so, basically, Steve’s dad is the ‘70s version of my mom, who always tells my friends (never me) to take a ton of pictures and post them on Facebook so she can admire them. I believe this is her method of monitoring my sobriety levels. Steve should be wary of such tricks from his old man, I think.

Steve snorts, “Well, that’s your problem,” and my problem is that this dialogue may have been written by a second grader. Seriously, if I hear a fart joke, I will take it as definitive evidence that the script writer never graduated elementary school, which would explain a lot about the relative maturity levels of everyone in this film.

Holding up his camera, Rob tells his friends to smile, and they actually cooperate. We can only assume that after this, Rob subjects them to about a million more pictures, because the lighting is never perfect and whatnot.

Fortunately, we are spared the ordeal of watching that as we move into an assembly room where Herb is going to give his idea of a welcome speech, which means, of course, that it will be about as welcoming as a mugging in a dark alley. In this room, the camera focuses on a knot of New England boys, including such notable personages as Ralph Cox, Jim Craig, Dave Silk, and Jack O’Callahan.

With his hands in his pockets, Silk confesses, “These guys make me nervous.” He’s going to be wetting his pants when Herb makes his grand entrance, in that case…

Jim says that he recognizes a lot of the guys from the Moscow tournament and they’re all right. My inner Miracle geek is doing cartwheels right now, because that ’79 World Championship team Jim alludes to did contain Jim Craig, Jack O’Callahan, Phil Verchota, Bill Baker, Rob McClanahan, Steve Christoff, Eric Strobel, Mark Johnson, and even this random retired NHL player named Craig Patrick. In other words, the 1980 Olympics was totally an awesome remix of the ’79 World Championship team.

Cox argues that there are “too many of them and not enough of us.” I feel like I’m watching the beginning of an after-school special on tolerance and diversity.

OC drawls, “Ah, it’s a big country, boys, we’ve got to make room for some of them—like maybe two.” OC is a riot. He gets some of the best lines in this movie, just like he does in Miracle. I don’t think it’s a coincidence.

The New Englanders take their seats, and we move over to a knot of Midwesterners in time to hear Ken Morrow say, “Hey, I’ve never seen most of these guys before.”

This results in some supposedly witty but actually painful banter about most of the guys not having seen Kenny before either, and how the other guys are Easterners who never leave concrete streets. By this point, I fully believe that Herb did his honest best to take the most annoying cast of characters possible to Lake Placid, perhaps theorizing that the Russians would capitulate instantly under an onslaught of their terrible jokes.

We have to listen to more agonizingly unnatural dialogue trying to convince us that it’s humor as the Midwestern boys discuss how the gold medal ’60 team was loaded with Easterners and how much they don’t need a history lesson. Can Herb make his grand entrance soon because this is getting to be excruciating?

The camera now shifts over to the Coneheads, who are sitting in a row diagonal to the other group of Midwesterners. Pointing across the room as if he were raised in a barn, Bah asks Buzz and Pav, “Hey, did you see McClanahan’s jeans?”

Yep, this is definitely an after-school special, all right. Now we’re getting to the point where people are being mocked behind their backs for their clothing selections. I eagerly anticipate the incoming anti-bullying sermon where we’ll be taught that we can all be buddies no matter what our socioeconomic status.

Buzz replies that he doesn’t check out guys’ jeans, and Bah continues to obsess over Rob’s pants, claiming that Rob’s wearing a fancy brand that costs “sixty bucks at least.” Presumably, he’s bitter because that money could have fed a starving child in the Iron Range for a year or something.

Pav decides not to be a bystander, and demands, “So what? He plays good hockey?” Here, a cynic could certainly speculate that Pav has a vested interest in creating a team atmosphere where nobody cares what anyone else is wearing, so that he could show up to his medal ceremony looking like a total ragamuffin, and nobody would be able to taunt him into dressing as if he had actually spared a thought to his appearance.

Bah dismisses this point, scoffing, “Yeah, I know, but what’s a rich kid doing playing hockey?”

Okay. I’ve got to give this movie props for courage here, even if I make fun of the rest of the script. Rob McClanahan was raised in North Oaks, an affluent suburb of St. Paul, while most of the team was from more blue collar origins, so he got a lot of ribbing about his upper-crust background.

Many sources, like the Miracle movie, decide they aren’t going to poke that class grenade with a ten-foot pole, and most of the sources that do touch it do so in a pretty blundering way, basically asserting that Rob was fine because while he might have seemed like a snot like all the other lazy, arrogant upper-middle class jerks in their gated communities driving their elegant cars, he wasn’t actually a snot unlike all those other rich snobs who really are arrogant, lazy jerks. In a nutshell, most of the sources just end up affirming the stereotypes about upper-middle class people instead of confronting them, so we’ll see what the movie does with the class issue. Either way, I’ll applaud their bravery for trying to deal with the issue even if I can’t approve of their execution. So far, though, I think that they’re doing pretty well, since I believe the audience is intended to identify Bah’s remark as a sort of reverse snobbery and not be sympathetic toward it.

The camera switches to Les Auge, who, when asked how he is doing, admits that he’s feeling a little nervous. I’m kind of overjoyed to see Les Auge in this film, since I’ve only ever read about him in books before. It’s nice to see him get some attention for a change.

Now that Les Auge has prepared us for Herb’s entrance by alerting us to the fact that we should all be nervous wrecks, Herb strides in and marches up to the podium to deliver his welcome speech to his crowd of Olympic hopefuls.

Herb opens with a declaration that “some of you have had the pleasure of playing on my teams before.” Way to go, Herb. When the tension between different groups in a room is thick enough to need a knife to slice through it, it’s great to crack a joke to set all the warring factions at ease. I hope he continues his standup routine with a quip about the pleasure of getting a root canal.

Sadly, Herb elects to go into serious mode instead of making any more wisecracks. He attempts to assure his audience’s attention by asserting that this isn’t a case where a player can look to his right and to his left, and then know that one of the three of them will make the team, because the odds, according to him, aren’t that much in their favor. Instead, Herb tells them to look two places on either side of them and assume that maybe none of them will make the team.

Since the boys who do ultimately make the team are organized in bunches, a more accurate version of the speech would point out that there are also some people who could look two places on either side of them and know that all five of them would make the team. Really, Herb could have glossed over the formality of a trials process and just pointed at clumps of players, announcing which ones passed muster and which ones didn’t.

Herb then talks about how the twenty boys who will make the team will be the best skaters, the bravest players, and the guys who believe in themselves and each other the most. This is all music to my ears as this team over the years has somehow been stigmatized as a talentless bunch, so it’s a wonderful change to hear them being called good.

After this, Herb waxes romantic about how he’s not looking for winners, since winners are a dime a dozen, but rather for people prepared to sacrifice for the chance to become winners. This line rings very true, since Herb once defined winners as those who are willing to make sacrifices for the unknown.

Herb concludes with a declaration that he doesn’t know what brought his players there, but he knows what can send them home, and that he’s not interested in their questions, only their answers, so if they have any questions, they should direct them to Coach Patrick, who seems astonished by Herb’s abrupt speech.

As Herb walks by him, Patrick remarks that the boys look eager, and Herb counters that they are a “bunch of cliques” that are “a long way from a team.” In other words, this Olympic team sounds like middle school.

Patrick walks up to the podium and makes a sorry excuse for a jest by commenting, “Welcome to Colorado Springs, where the atmosphere isn’t just friendly and warm; it’s downright hot.” That terrible joke may be the reason the facepalm was invented.

There is an outbreak of polite, pitying laughter from the boys who probably want brownie points from the assistant coach who apparently just wants to be one of the guys.

Coach Patrick asks if there are any questions, and everyone raises a hand. That’s good. Patrick deserves to answer stupid questions for the next century as atonement for his awful joke. On that note, we’ll end this post with Herb’s pleasant words of welcome ringing in our eardrums like a merry wedding bell.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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 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.

 

Breaking Down a Miracle (Part II)

Introduction:

This post is a continuation of my commentary on the discs I recently procured with footage of the 1980 US Olympic hockey team’s games. In particular, this part of the series will focus on the American highlights of the pool games against Sweden, Czechoslovakia, Norway, Romania, and West Germany. As I have covered the games against Sweden and Czechoslovakia in more depth in the previous installment of this series, I have tried to make different observations from those I made before—focusing on elements that the differences in Canadian and American broadcasting might have drawn my attention to. Likewise, because I will be covering the full Norway game in more detail in a future post, I have tried to keep my coverage of it brief so as to avoid redundancies in the next portion of this series. In addition to analyzing the pool games, this post will contain commentary on interviews with Bill Baker, Herb Brooks, and Rizzo. It is my hope that this post will provide readers with some Olympic entertainment before we can cheer on our American men in Sochi.

Highlights of Sweden Game:

• The American broadcaster opens with a commentary on how some people love the modern architectural style of the new hockey arena in Lake Placid while others are disenchanted with it. The broadcaster refuses to take a stance on the issue (providing a decent example of a lack of bias in media), stating only that this is a free country.
• Coverage switches over to Al Michaels in the hockey arena, where he will provide the highlights of the Swedish game to the American audience.
• Al explains that the twelve hockey teams competing in the tournament are divided into two divisions: blue and red. The US along with Sweden and Czechoslovakia are in the blue division, while the Soviet Union, the gold medal favorites, are in the red.
• We are offered an update on hockey in the red division, where as of the second intermission, the Soviet Union team is hammering the Japanese thirteen to zero. Almost makes that pre-Olympic blowout in Madison Square Garden seem like an even match-up by comparison.
• We are also told that Poland is leading Finland 5-4, which, according to Al, is a bit of a surprise. Presumably, Finland recovers from this shock, seeing as Finland made it to the medal round, while Poland did not.
• In the blue division, the Czechs swept the Norwegians 11-0, and Canada thrashed the Netherlands 10:1. According to Al, there are no surprises in either of those scores.
• The West Germans in the blue division had a tough opener, Al relates, losing to Romania 6:4.
• Ken Dryden, the specialist who was part of that Montreal Canadian dynasty and who has six Stanley Cup rings to his name, emphasizes how important it is for the Americans to do well in the game against the Swedes since only two teams from each division advance to the medal rounds, and the Czechs are widely expected to fill one of those slots.
• Bill Baker is being a defensive star in the first period against the Swedes.
• Jim Craig gets in a good save a couple of minutes into the first period.
• Pav skates around quickly, being an excellent two-way player, and stealing possession of the puck from the Swedes.
• Buzz Schneider gets the puck in the net, but the goal is disallowed because a whistle for off-sides had been blown but nobody heard it because of the noise of the crowd. Perhaps the refs should invest in fog horns since the crowds are only going to get larger and louder where the Americans are concerned.
• Nice to see Morrow skate down the ice and get a shot on goal.
• Silk takes a pass and just fires it high into the Swedish net before I can blink with about half a minute left in the second period. He totally earned the chance to skip on his skates and wave his hands in the air in exultation. What a fierce, determined competitor.
• I love the pile-up hug and helmet rubbing that follows Silky’s scoring. My Miracle boys are all super supportive of one another’s brilliance, and it fills my soul with the sound of angels singing.
• Nice poke check to gain possession of the puck, Mac. You may be injured but you still know how to take that puck.
• Bill, your goal never gets less incredible to watch. That’s really the highest complaint a goal can get.
• The American team rolling around on the ice in a group hug is adorable and priceless. Seeing this is like getting a direct injection of pure bliss.
• I really can’t handle the bench shots of OC and Mac. Mac hobbling around makes me want to weep my heart out for him, but OC in his hilarious red suspenders makes me want to laugh my head off at his clothing selection. Somebody help me before I drive myself insane or lose a vital organ.
• I’m amused that the commentator felt the need to clarify for the audience that it’s traditional for teams to line up and shake hands are the end of an Olympic hockey game. Isn’t that customary for most sports? Is anyone really not going to be able to guess why the teams are shaking hands?

Bill Baker Post-Sweden Interview:

• My heart strings are quivering in delight at the sight of Bill’s shy smile at the idea of a parade being thrown on Lake Placid’s Main Street in his honor. He better get used to parades, though, because, in a couple of days, this whole team is going to hit celebrity status. I know because I saw it in my tea leaves.
• When asked how the team is feeling, Bill replies that they are happy with the tie and that they are pleased they were able to improve their performance after the first period. His Minnesota accent is making me coo, and I want to hear more of it. This world is in desperate need of more Bill Baker interviews.
• When questioned about how the team needs to prepare for the following game against the Czechs, Bill responds that the Americans will need to be playing at their best from the start and that if they do that they will hopefully be able to skate with the Czechs and compete with them effectively. Intelligent answers like this are why he was Captain of the Gophers, I suppose.
• As the interview ends, Bill just looks so discomfited at being described as the hero of the night that I just have to giggle. Then he just keeps glancing around to check if the cameras are off his face yet. What a riot. I love this guy.

Highlights on the Czech Game:

• The American broadcaster elaborates on the network’s rationale for not giving the final results of the hockey games until the end of the highlights. He claims that viewers should be able to feel some of the suspense of the event by having to wait until the end of the highlight reel to discover the result. That’s a great philosophy, but I think more excitement would be generated if entire games were shown. As it is, the game against the Czechs, which many American players define as the team’s best, was only captured in full by Canadian channels. Thank God for the Canadian love affair with hockey or else most of the Miracle boys’ magnificent feats would be lost to history.
• The highlights of this game are basically just goals, so check out my last post for reminders of who scored in what spectacular way.
• Whenever Bill touches the puck, looks like he might touch the puck, or is just chilling on the bench with his buddies when the camera flashes over to him, he gets called a hero for his goal against the Swedes. Yeah, he definitely needs to get accustomed to that whole hero worship thing.

Herb Brooks Post-Czech Game Interview:

• Herb smiles when he is congratulated by the interviewers on the results of the Czech game. It is reassuring to know that his face can handle this expression without cracking. He is a man, after all, and not a monument.
• Herb admits that he, like everyone else, was surprised by his team’s performance in the game against the Czechs, but he states that his team did realize in practice that they had to use their youth as an asset, not a liability, and he sensed they were going to have a good game against the Czechs.
• Herb emphasizes that a drubbing a la the one the Soviets gave the US team in Madison Square Garden doesn’t permanently damage a quality athlete’s mindset and points out that the defeat helped his team avoid some of the pitfalls of overconfidence.
• Herb praises Christian’s work in the goal that was ultimately credited to Verchota and reminds everybody that Christian is a center converted to defense.
• Herb states that the US team, after pulling an upset over the Czechs, must remain grounded and defeat the teams (West Germany, Romania, and Norway) that they are expected to triumph over. He believes that those victories will be an even bigger test of his boys’ characters than the Czech game.
• In talking about Mark Johnson’s injury, Herb describes Mark as the guy who makes the team go every day in practice. Gosh, I love when Herb fanboys over his players.

Highlights of Norway Game:

• A nice shot from Christian was deflected in by Rizzo. Lovely teamwork. A good power play goal that should give the US some positive momentum and ties the game.
• Good to see Wells take a faceoff.
• Verchota’s shot on goal is followed by a scuffle near the Norwegian net. Players fall to the ice, but nothing worse happens as the refs break up the fray.
• A beautiful joint play by Mark Johnson and Rob McClanahan allows the US to take the lead. Trapped along the boards, Rob passes the puck to Mark, who is right in front of the net and fires the puck into the goal before I can take another breath. The chemistry between these two is phenomenal and just has me in awe. I’m probably going to be hyperventilating into a paper bag by the time this highlight reel is over.
• Some smooth circling moves by Morrow back on the defensive side of things.
• Ouch, that Norwegian player hooked Bah Harrington into the boards. Good thing Bah is all right, and it was sweet of Bill to come over to check on him. Glad the ref gave the Norwegian player a hooking penalty. Obviously, the ref is more competent than the one in the Czech game who missed the blatant cheapshot on Mark Johnson.
• Pav is a game-changer. When he gets the puck, he can go swiftly and smoothly pass it to someone like Silky, who can slip that puck into the net again.
• Geez, what is with Norway and hooking? They just hooked Rob McClanahan, too. Did they go to the dirty hockey school taught by the Czechs or what?
• Wonderful to see Mark Wells score, and then to watch him get buried in a hug by his teammates. His post-Olympic life was so rough that it’s a comfort to know that he had some amazing Olympic memories to reflect upon.
• Morrow gets on the scoreboard with a glorious slapshot. Awesome play. The puck just traveled so slowly that the Norwegian goaltender made the deadly mistake of believing it would be deflected when it wasn’t. Awkward for that goaltender but great for Kenny Morrow.
• A fight between Suter and a Norwegian player results in a penalty for both sides, so we’ll have a four-on-four situation.
• Interference is called against Bill Baker, who just looks really annoyed at himself for getting the penalty. Don’t worry, Billy, you’ll always be the hero against Sweden.
• This is all academic, though, since the six remaining seconds in the game pass without incident, and the Miracle boys climb out of their bench victorious for a group hug.

Interview with Rizzo Post-Norway Game:

• Rizzo just has this massive grin on his face from the second the interview starts. What a gregarious fellow.
• Rizzo is a sweetie, talking about how the team pulled together over the last six months and always believed in one another’s talents. He says the team is sitting at a good spot with two wins and a tie. Basically, he feels that the only way things will go awry is if the team lets them fall apart, and he’s confident the team isn’t going to permit things to unravel.
• Rizzo describing the atmosphere in the locker room during the Czech game is absolutely precious. He explains how the team believed from the outset that they had a chance at beating anyone who wasn’t the Soviets. After the game was tied at the end of the first period, he relates how the team buoyed themselves up with assurances that the Czechs weren’t that good and that they could outskate the Czechs, which meant that they could defeat the Czechs. Then, once they took the lead, they knew they just had to hold onto it, and it would be the Czechs who had to catch up to them.

Highlights of Romania Game:

• Pav sets Buzz up for a beautiful goal that puts the US on the scoreboard and allows the team to pull ahead for an early lead.
• Eric Strobel fights hard to get a second goal for the US. Nice to see him being all determined.
• Morrow gets in some solid checking.
• Christoff leads a charge down the ice but no real scoring opportunities come of it.
• Right off the faceoff, the puck is passed back to Buzz, who sends it flying into the Romanian net. Picture perfect play practically made for the highlight reels.
• Christoff gets the puck, does a neat twirl, and sends the puck careening into the Romanian net.
• Neal Broten gets a sweet goal, skating right up to the net and firing the puck wide of the goalie.
• With like a minute left, Rob scores a goal that bears an uncanny resemblance to Neal’s. Guess the Romanian goalie really can’t block that shot at all and will be having nightmares of moves like it for years to come.

 

 

Highlights of West German Game:

• There is a fight along the boards that results in both Christian and Mark Johnson being sent off for a penalty. This physical style is apparently a distinctly West German mode of playing that annoys a lot of teams.
• In this three on four situation, West Germany scores within seconds. This is tearing at my heart strings.
• Dave Christian sets up Rob McClanahan for a gorgeous backhand goal that he skates up close to put into the right side of the net.
• It’s Air Ramsey as he flies to dodge a check. I love this kid. What a pistol.
• Neal Broten dives to the ice to send the rebound from Strobel’s shot sailing into the Romanian net. Amazing way to tie a game.
• Some confusion about who is taking the faceoff for the US. First, it seems like Mark Johnson will take it. Then it looks like Rob McClanahan will, but he doesn’t either. Finally, Steve Christoff seems like he’s going to take it and actually does. I guess it’s some delaying tactic of Herb’s to break the other team’s momentum.
• Rob McClanahan streaks down the ice to score another beautiful goal.
• The Minnesota boys come out big tonight as Verchota scores as well, tipping in a slapshot from Christian.
• Glorious glove save by Jim Craig.

Breaking Down a Miracle (Part I)

Introduction:

The Winter Olympics is in the air again, and as the torch races toward Sochi, there is only one thing for hockey fans to think about: Olympic hockey. This blog post is not about which Americans I think will make the roster (though I will eat my brother’s sweaty shoulder pads if Zach Parise and Patrick Kane aren’t locks) or whether Jonathan Quick will be sufficiently recovered from his groin injury to be in net for the USA. You can find loads of other pieces speculating about those topics, but this post (and the others in this series) is going to be unique. Why is that, you say? Why, thanks for asking. It’s going to be all about one of America’s past Olympic hockey glories. That’s right. I just purchased (as a combo belated Birthday present and early Christmas gift) a lovely set of discs of full games and highlights of the 1980 US Hockey Team, so I’ll be providing commentary on the Miracle on Ice and all the footage that I have leading up to it. This post will focus on the opening match against Sweden as well as the second game against the Czechs.

The format for all these posts will basically be random bullet point musings because these Miracle boys make me lose too many brain cells to organize my thoughts coherently, but I hope you’ll feel involved in the excitement via this series of posts. Please pardon the tense issues owing to extreme euphoria and call me out if my obnoxious fangirling over my personal favorites (Rob McClanahan and Mark Johnson) begins to detract from my observations about the rest of the team. I don’t want to sound like I’m ESPN covering the Blackhawks, focusing on Jonathan Toews and Patrick Kane to the degree that an outsider might never guess that the Blackhawks actually have more than two players.

Sweden Game Notes:

 

• The coverage is Canadian. We get to hear a lot of long Northern u’s in those classy Canadian cadences. We also are treated to an interview with one of the Canadian amateur hockey players who apparently scored a hat trick (three goals in a game for those of you who haven’t learned the handshake and the lingo of the hockey nut yet) during one match against the Dutch prior to the Olympics. The Canadian media had high hopes that this number 19 would be a star but he was probably outshone by the Americans in Lake Placid. Tough luck for our brothers to the North, eh?
• The Canadian player, Ken Barry, does have some neat insights into the Olympic tournament. He does a good job reminding viewers that seeding for the medal round and tie-breaking for giving out medals was based on goals scored and goals allowed. That did end up being important for the US later on, since the US was seeded second in its division going into the medal round because of the goal differential with Sweden. Some hockey scholars have suggested that the Miracle on Ice might not have happened (blasphemy, I know) if the US had played the Soviet Union second, as the Soviets would have gone into the gold medal game with all guns blazing no matter what. We’ll leave that debate to our hockey fanatics and just admire the articulate Canadian player. Hockey players consistently give the best interviews, don’t they? They’re just so humble and smart.
• Ken is a cute young Canadian, talking about his travels with his team and his sacrifices leading up to the Olympics.
• Good job by the Canadian media, reminding everybody that the game against Sweden took place before Opening Ceremonies because the hockey teams had to face off against everyone in their division before they could move onto the medal round. This bit of trivia is only really important to me because Rob McClanahan ended up having to miss Opening Ceremonies to treat his injury from the Sweden game.
• The Canadian broadcaster pointed out that Sweden had just returned to the international hockey scene for the first time since the 1960’s, but that the Swedes had placed third in the World Championships. Spoiler alert: the Swedes would also go on to place third in the Olympics.
• Love this Canadian broadcaster. He talks about the Americans wanting to repeat the gold medal performance of 1960 in Squaw Valley. You are right, random Canadian broadcaster, the Miracle boys did want gold. Thank you for focusing on them from the beginning and preserving some of this stuff for posterity since the American media didn’t fall in love with these boys fast enough.
• Jim Craig patrolling the crease. It’s nice when goalies send out that “don’t mess with me” vibe.
• Ken Morrow does a wonderful job breaking up a Sweden play and passing the puck up ice to Eric Strobel. What a defensive rock. No wonder he was such a success with that Islander dynasty that gave Herb’s Rangers a headache.
• Eric Strobel’s skating really was so fast and smooth. I know he was a streaky player who wasn’t exactly “on” during this tournament, but he was still so graceful and gorgeous to watch. No surprise Herb regarded him as the best pure skater he had ever seen. Eric got in some sweet stickhandling too.
• Buzz Schneider is a riot, firing that shot even though the whistle to signal off sides had already been blown. Nobody on this team ever gives up, obviously.
• Neal Broten is a little offensive firecracker. He could really skate up the ice and put the pressure on, getting his own rebound and coming back for another shot. He didn’t score but it definitely wasn’t for lack of trying. The puck was practically in the net when the Swedish goaltender covered it with his glove, and Neal was working so hard he ended up falling to the ice. That’s dedication right there.
• Picture perfect skate save by Jim Craig and some solid checking by Bill Baker. Beautiful defensive work all around here.
• Ramsey was very clever, setting up the breakaway that allowed the US to tie the Swedes late in the second period. Not exactly a shocker that he went on to seventeen successful NHL seasons and was a popular assistant coach for the Minnesota Wilds until 2010 when he resigned to spend more time with his family.
• Mark Johnson and Dave Silk had great chemistry whizzing down the ice together, and their raised fists after Silky scores are too adorable to be believed. I love seeing hockey players rejoice when someone on their line scores. Silky was such a clutch performer, and that’s why, after the first game against Sweden, he was basically promoted to the first line to play with Johnson and McClanahan. (Not that Herb was really rigid about deploying his lines. He liked to mix up his combinations, but as much as he had a “first” line during the Olympics, Silky was on it.)
• The American pile-up hug after Silky scores is precious. That’s what the 2013 Devils should do every time they win a face-off to get some much needed chemistry flowing.
• The slow motion replay shows the beauty of Mark’s assist. What a playmaker. He makes everything look so simple and smooth.
• The Canadian broadcaster does a good job reminding the audience that the US needed to get at least a point (meaning a tie) in order to place themselves in a solid position for the medal round. Just a little hint about the importance of Bill Baker’s tying goal for the ultimate success of the 1980 US Hockey Team.
• Mark Johnson is just all over the ice in the third period. Amazing that he never got tired even with all the ice time Herb gave him. What a gem.
• Awesome to see Mark battling along the boards. He may be small, but he is fearless. A little tiger.
• Morrow just inspires so much faith with how he stays deep to protect his goal. He doesn’t do anything flashy, but he gets the puck and moves it up to Neal this time.
• Ramsey does a nice job clearing his end, too.
• Pav is fascinating to watch. He speeds up the ice and creates so many opportunities, and he doesn’t give up on his plays. He keeps going along the boards if he has to.
• Bill Baker was quite an asset in this game. He got in a lot of action in terms of passes and shots from center ice, but he also could skate back quickly to touch the puck so an icing could be called against the other team.
• Mark Wells got in a nice shot. Glad to see him in on the action.
• Wells gets some more excitement with a little scuffle along the boards against a Swede.
• The Americans are turning up the heat, and the Swedes try to cool it by icing the puck. American fans boo this blatant delaying tactic, and we see, for perhaps the third time, the camera panning in on the same random American fan with a flag. Is he the only American fan in the arena or what?
• Dave Christian does some smooth stick work behind the net before clearing the puck from his zone. Not bad at all for a forward turned defenseman.
• Rob McClanahan skates the puck down the ice very nicely, and I won’t think about the pain this probably caused his leg. (Too late, of course, I already thought about it.)
• Rob does a good job passing the puck down the ice to Mark, who fires a beautiful shot that hits the post. Too bad, but this is all just set-up for Bill’s epic goal.
• Rizzo gets a solid shot on goal even if no point comes of it. Just casually observing that he did other stiff besides score the game-winner against the Soviets. Contrary to popular opinion, he wasn’t Captain Deadweight.
• The Americans fall down a whole heck of a lot. Rizzo slips by the boards but gets in a pass while he is on his knees.
• The Soviet ref seems surprisingly unbiased (perhaps he was banished to Siberia after the Olympics), calling a minor penalty for tripping against Sweden with around five minutes left in the third period. Time to see if the US can convert the power play into a goal.
• It’s like Mark Johnson and Dave Christian were playing some sort of puck ping-pong with the way they kept passing it back and forth to one another. Mark was getting I so many shots here. Why did none make it in the net? So excruciating to watch, let me tell you.
• Ramsey is awesome to watch along the boards, and he gets in quite a few slapshots from the blue line. What a dynamic defenseman.
• The Canadian commentator just can’t get Rizzo’s last name right. It’s a box to the ears every time he butchers it. What brought this mispronunciation phenomenon to my attention? Rizzo had a scuffle along the boards with a Swede, so the Canadian broadcaster thought it was a great time to mangle Rizzo’s surname almost beyond auditory recognition.
• The gloves on neither player come off in this altercation but both Rizzo and the Swede get roughing penalties because they trade some punches. Interesting to see what will develop from these penalties.
• Okay, after the camera zooms in on Rizzo doing hockey player things (guzzling water and spitting) in the penalty box, the camera pans over to the American bench, where we get a shot of Robbie McClanahan standing. The backstory behind this is that his leg was injured in the first period, and it hurt him too much to sit down, so he stood up the whole time between shifts. What a tough little soldier. He deserves all the hugs in the world, and I’m going to go through a box of Kleenex before the third period is over. God help me and the rainforest I’m destroying, but just watch that scene in Miracle where Herb goads Mac into playing against the Swedes and you’ll begin to understand the power of my emotions at this moment.
• Bob Suter passes the puck up the ice to the Coneheads, and they get a nice shot on goal. Cool to see Herb going with his unpredictable shock troopers in this situation.
• Sweet to hear the Canadian commentator reminiscing on Buzz’s performance in the 1976 Winter Olympics. The broadcaster apparently remembered a big goal Buzz scored but didn’t feel like elaborating on the details.
• Ramsey got in a good shot when that puck was passed back to him on the face-off. He was quite the offensive defenseman, actually.
• Some nice passing between the Coneheads, but no real scoring opportunities come of it at this time.
• Baker has wonderful stickhandling abilities. Such excellent control of the puck when it is in his possession. I am in awe. Color me impressed.
• Oh gosh, the Canadian broadcaster is so terribly misinformed when he says that Herb Brooks was a part of that 1960 gold medal hockey team. Herb, of course, was the last guy cut from that team, but I guess when life gives you awkward turtles you have to make awkward turtle soup.
• At least the Canadian commentator is right about Dave Christian being the son of one of the 1960 gold medalists. It’s good that there is some truth in fluff.
• Silky got in a nice shot on goal, and the Canadian broadcaster cannot pronounce Verchota. (Did Canada not have any Italians back in 1980?) Maybe he should just go with Phil instead.
• Hilarious shot of Bill Baker just bouncing the puck around on his stick after the whistle was blown on an icing call. Geez, I love these Minnesota boys. How could Herb bear to be mean to them when they are all so adorable?
• The camera moves over to the US bench again, and we see Jack O’Callahan, who had to sit out the game because of a knee injury, on the bench in bright red suspenders. Perhaps he was the one who advised Herb to wear those hideous 70’s style pants to the Soviet game.
• Another shot of Robbie McClanahan limping along behind the bench is breaking my poor heart.
• It’s that same flag-waving fan. Is there nobody else in the audience the camera can find?
• Great glove save by Jimmy. The Canadian commentator loves it, and so do I.
• Pav flew down the ice and got in a wonderful shot. Pity it didn’t find the back of the net.
• Sweden gets a holding penalty. Let’s see what the US makes of this power play opportunity and ignore the riot on the Swedish bench.
• Wow, Ramsey travels from behind his own net to practically go end-to-end with the puck. Who put rockets on his skates?
• Bad luck with those slapshots, Christian, but one day something will come of them in a game against the Soviets.
• Morrow gets called for cross-checking (according to international standards), so we’ll have a power play for Sweden. Ramsey, Baker, and Schneider are all on the penalty kill. They are all skating so quickly and smoothly, and they have a forecheck going. Amazing. Some NHL teams can’t penalty kill like this.
• Morrow is back. Thank God that penalty kill is over. Penalty kills for my side are too intense for me even when I know the outcome.
• Neal is so adorable and focused as he prepares to take his face-off. The camera zooms in on his teddy bear face, and I can’t handle it.
• Great job breaking free of the Swedish forecheck, Christian. You stickhandled so well and went basically end-to-end. Bravo.
• Jim is on the bench, and Herb is pacing. Time for the US to go with six attackers to try to tie the game.
• What a shot, Bill! Way to tie up the game. You changed the whole team’s momentum going into the Czech game, and I’m so proud of you.
• Mark Johnson’s celebratory run after Bill scores is priceless.
• The Miracle boys are so cute as they pile into a hug to rejoice over Bill’s tying goal. Every second I love them more.
• OC celebrating in his ridiculous suspenders is quality entertainment.
• The game is over, and it’s time for some manly helmet pats for the American boys. I love hockey expressions of affection.

Game against Czechoslovakia:

• The Americans are very aggressive from the opening face-off, putting pressure on the Czechs. This is great to see.
• Bill Baker, you are ripping my heart here. You used your body to block that shot, and it hit you right in the chin. I hate to watch you crumble on the ice. My poor baby. If I could go back in time, I would hug you but not chuck you under the chin. The commentator is right, you are the hero of the game against Sweden, and you totally earned that cheer from the crowd when you got up.
• The Canadian broadcaster can’t say Broten’s name right either, but I’ll give him a pass here because Broten isn’t pronounced how it’s spelled.
• Bill Baker is back and playing as tough as ever. What a quality athlete.
• Some nice passing from Mark to Robbie but Robbie’s shot goes wide. Too bad. They’ll have to try again and stop building up my hopes just to dash them. Footage of these games is not easy on my ticker.
• Morrow is very dependable at clearing his own zone. I’m never nervous when he is controlling the puck.
• It would be nice if the Canadian commentator decided on one incorrect way of saying Broten’s name, because this mispronouncing it differently every time gig isn’t working and is more infuriating than one consistent wrong pronounciation would be. Broten does well with the face-off, though.
• Broten has a beautiful pass, and Rizzo has an awesome goal. See, contrary to popular belief, Rizzo has more than one goal in the Olympics. Great work from the American captain here, jumpstarting the US onslaught on the Czechs after the Czechs get the first point of the game.
• A flawless pass from Pav to Buzz ends in a goal, and my heart is filled with sunshine and rainbows. Way to be, guys.
• A whole lot of collisions going on here as the Czechs fold under the US barrage. Strobel gets knocked into the boards, and Ramsey is practically able to skate to the Czech goal before he is knocked down.
• How was that trip on Christoff not called? What a terrible ref. Was he napping to recover from a time change or what?
• That was close, Jimmy! So glad you caught the puck.
• Wow, Rammer way to stay on top of your player even when he is pushing you with his stick. That’s called sacrificing for your team.
• The Czechs scored, and Verchota is in the penalty box for cross-checking. This is tense.
• Christoff almost got a shorthanded goal. This is nail-biting.
• Bill, you are so noble, leaping down to block the puck again with your body. What a hero.
• Verchota is free, and the US killed the very effective Czech power play. So proud of the boys.
• Geez, the Czechs just let Johnson, McClanahan, Baker, and Strobel set up a passing clinic in front of the Czech net. Can’t believe nobody scored.
• Rizzo is right. Delibrately knocking the puck out of play into the audience is a two minute penalty for delaying the game. Whatever they paid this ref was too much.
• Nice, Ramsey. Way to level that Czech.
• Buzz scores again off another Pav pass, and the American bench clears for a group hug. This is pure awesome.
• Pav is an amazing playmaker. He’ll give up a chance at a good shot to set up a great one for a line mate.
• Baker sends a Czech player onto their bench, and I find it oddly amusing.
• Lovely goal off a backhand by Mark Johnson with assists from Mac and Rizzo.
• Dave Christian scores while practically falling into the Czech goalie and net. This is an American rout of the Czechs. It’s incredible.
• Buzz scores another. He really demolishes the Czechs in this game.
• In the process of falling splat on his face, Rob McClanahan fires a shot and scores. Amazing. I don’t know how he managed to hit the puck, nonetheless get it in the net, but what a play and a great pass from Johnson, too. This ends in an adorable team hug, of course.
• What an atrocious ref. Not calling that totally unnecessary check to Mark Johnson who was nowhere near the puck. What a bogus call, and Mark curled up in pain is making me hunt for Kleenex again.
• Suter definitely wants Czech blood after the cheapshot on Mark Johnson. Suter is great for having his teammate’s back like that.
• Ah, the immortal Herb Brooks threat to shove a Koho down number 3’s throat. Vintage Herb on the warpath.
• Beautiful mob hug of Jim Craig to end the rout of the Czechs. The Miracle boys are such perfect babies. I love them all.