It's a bit strange having such a strong emotional attachment to something that took place a quarter of a century before I was even born. However, as I sit here reminiscing on the 1980 U.S. olympic hockey team, almost twenty years after first learning of its story, I can't help but be overcome with feelings of joy, nostalgia and yes, belief. Today is the 43rd anniversary of the Miracle On Ice, one of the most remarkable stories in sport history. One that after all these years, continues to truly stand the test of time.
It's hard to pinpoint exactly where my interest in the game of hockey really began, as it's something that has been a part of my life for longer than I've even known myself. My core memories are full of the smell of popcorn and sounds of early 2000s' MSG broadcasts, watching games with my parents. A Rangers fandom-turned-obsession was inherited to me from them but in a way, this same story is pretty prevalent to their early interest in the sport as well. Throughout my life, my Dad has retold the stories of how he skipped detention to watch the qualifying round of these olympics and remembers watching the gold medal game on his tiny little black and white TV. The same can be said for my Mom, minus the detentions, who spent the game watching with her family in a similar fashion. Though for me, I wouldn't become aware of this magical story until I was about eight years old when Disney came out with a movie to help retell the story to a new generation.
When talking about where my days as a hockey fan begin, my Mom will tell you how two year old me spent the summer of '98 watching the Detroit Red Wings win their second Stanley Cup in a row but understandably, my memory on that isn't the best. What I do remember a little more clearly is being mesmerized in that movie theater as I watched "Miracle" for the first of what definitely became hundreds, if not thousands of rewatches. People hate watching the movie with me because I can't help myself from quoting half of the script when in reality, I'm actually holding back from quoting the entire thing. The early/mid 2000s' was right around when DVD's became big and let me tell you, once my Dad came home from work with that copy of Miracle on DVD, it never left the DVD player.
If you were to use that disc today, I'm pretty sure the entire first scene skips because of how many times I've watched it. I would have that movie playing any chance I got. I would play hockey along with it, I'd watch it when I was sick, I'd watch it before a big game once my parents were finally able to let me play the sport myself, I was rarely not watching it. The Miracle On Ice was such a huge part of my passion for the sport growing up as a kid. I would pretend I was playing as each and every one of the players, I would pretend I was Herb Brooks, I would create the entire team on my NHL 2004 video game, any possible way I could imagine the team, I was doing it. It got to the point where the movie wasn't enough. I was researching the team, figuring out line combinations, looking up stats, memorizing player names and their histories, all the things that people who are obsessed or work for the sport do. Hell, I even started to memorize the entire Russian team's roster.
If you were to go to my parent's house today, you would still find in the basement hockey tape that in its own miracle, is still stuck to the concrete walls with each players last name written on it. That same basement where I used to play hockey, pretending I was them, reenacting not just the gold medal game, but that entire olympic tournament. Among the countless pieces of hockey memorabilia hanging in my childhood room is a picture of the celebration on a plague with that famous quote from Al Michaels, surrounded by the medal round scores and a Jim Craig signature. Another story my Dad loves to tell is how he panicked when seven year old me frantically raised his hand in the locker room, volunteering to play goalie when I first started to learn how to play hockey. Jim Craig was without question the inspiration behind that decision. I don't remember exactly which Christmas or birthday it was when my parents got that signed plague for me but every time I look at it, I can't help but smile and appreciate it as one of my many treasures. We never had much money, so the fact that they were able to get that meant so much and still does.
In middle school, I was still obsessed. I remember having to do an English project where we basically had to speak out all the grammar aspects of a dialogue and making two of my classmates learn the script of Miracle so we can do that for the project, playing knee hockey in front of the class. In eighth grade, our big project was our first major research paper so for months, I watched every video I could find, read every article out there on this magic team and went on for 10 pages about why it was the greatest moment in sport history. In high school, my friends and I would watch the movie the night before tryouts. Hell at that point I had like three different DVD's relative to the story. In college, my best friend and I would make all our friends watch the movie as just like it is for him, a huge part of who we are both as people and as hockey players.
I can go on and on about this story's prevalence in my life, but with each passing year, it seems to become more and more special. Just like Herb Brooks told his team, I too was born to be a hockey player. From the time I was seven right until my senior year of college, I ate, slept, and breathed the sport. Every time I set foot on a sheet of ice it was like everything made sense. While unfortunately, I haven't made the NHL or become a professional coach, general manager or anything along those lines, hockey is and always has been such an important part of my life. Fanatic, die-hard, none of these words seem fitting enough to articulate my passion for the sport as well as for the New York Rangers. Watching games with my parents and going to games with my Dad are among my favorite things to do in this life and while the Rangers are the main part of it, Herb Brooks and that group of twenty somethings that made up the 1980 team will always be an equally significant part of my love for the support and the person I have become today.
Herb Brooks passed in 2003 and as time goes on, some of the players are beginning to join him on the frozen ponds of hockey heaven. However, their impact and memories will go on forever through so many fans like myself that have been captivated and inspired by their story. In the heart of such a special moment in time, Al Michaels asked us all that hallowed question. "Do You Believe In Miracles?" Because of this team, I will always answer that question with a passionate yes, no matter the context. Brooks was a dreamer, the kind of guy who would walk the road to the left when everyone else was going right. His dream was to win that gold medal and he made it his lifelong goal. Against all odds, he didn't pick the best players, but the right ones and led them to become a team, giving us all a story for the ages. A story that not only, rejuvenated a country that at the time had lost its confidence, but one that forever taught us all to be dreamers and of course, to always, believe.
Chris Feldman
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