Brian Leetch was but a boy for 1980's miraculous moment.
He was 12, playing for a Connecticut youth hockey team at a tournament in Massachusetts.
"We were all together in a hotel room. We watched the game," says Leetch, now a New York Rangers defenseman who captained the United States men's Olympic hockey team at Calgary in 1988, played at Nagano in '98 and will play at Salt Lake in the 2002 Winter Games that opened Friday.
"I remember throwing pillows around," Leetch recalls. "At the time, we were as excited to be in a hotel room at that age as we were to be watching the game. It wasn't until each year passed that we realized what an accomplishment it was."
Today — 22 years after a team of USA college kids stunned the world, and themselves, by winning a gold medal in Lake Placid — lending perspective to just what an accomplishment it was is nearly impossible.
Sports Illustrated tried, dubbing it the most notable, successful American sporting venture of the 20th century.
If that's the case, Herb Brooks says, so be it.
"I don't really know how to measure it," said Brooks, who coached the miracle and returns to these Games as coach of the U.S. men. "But if they feel it was that unique, we're very thrilled and humbled and proud by it."
What happened in 1980 was as much about super powers as super hockey.
Back then, it was the Soviet Union fighting in Afghanistan. Americans were held hostage in Iran, where 52 remained in captivity for 444 consecutive days. The domestic economy was in shambles under President Jimmy Carter.
With that backdrop Brooks took his boys (average age, 22) to Lake Placid, where U.S. expectations weren't exactly high.
"The mindset of the team, and the goals of the team, were to try to put the jersey on, represent your country and really experience the Olympics the way most athletes do," '80 Olympian Mark Johnson says now. "If everything went well, try to get ourselves in the medal round, and somehow maybe slip into a bronze medal — or maybe, if things went real well, get a silver medal."
Actually beat the far-superior Soviets, and take gold?
Fuhrgettaboutit.
"The Soviet Union," Brooks said, "was arguably the greatest team in the world at the time. . . . We were just happy to be there."
It showed, too, when the seventh-seeded Americans rallied to tie Sweden 2-2 in their tournament opener. For them, then, the stalemate was as good as gold. Later, they would come to realize just how much a goal with 27 seconds to go in the third period of that game — scored by a man who grew up to become an oral surgeon — served as a catalyst to the real thing.
"We had some big goals scored throughout the tournament," defenseman Ken Morrow said. "Billy Baker's was probably the biggest."
Something else lifted the Americans against the Swedes, though.
It actually was a severe muscle cramp sustained by Rob McClanahan, who limped away and later shed equipment between periods. He was finished. Or so he figured. Brooks, who by then was downright-hated by some of his players, entered the dressing room and went nuts. McClanahan was a quitter, suggested Brooks, who, in a bonding strategy, had tested his team with a barrage of psychological ploys during the six months and 60 games leading to the Olympics.
Eventually, the two were separated. McClanahan put on his uniform and returned for a couple painful shifts. That incident, on top of everything else Brooks had done, brought the team together — for a game, for a tourney, forever.
"I pulled and pulled until I thought they were real strong, like a piece of string," Brooks said. "You know, you can't push a string. But you can pull it. And then, when it gets petrified, then I pushed it.
"I had to get them out of (their) comfort zone and bring them here," he added, raising his hand, "and I kept notching the high-water mark, and I didn't let them slide down. They wanted to go back where they didn't have to deal with the sacrifices and the stresses and the anxieties and paying the extra price. And I was just the type of person that — I don't know how to say this publicly, but — they might say that I was just a bastard."
But a successful one.
The Americans rolled in their next four games.
A 7-3 win over Czechoslovakia, the only country that besides the Soviets expected to contend. Norway, check. Romania, check. West Germany, check. Next: the despised Soviets, who had struck gold in four straight Games prior to Lake Placid.
Feb. 22, 1980. It was a Friday night.
Not since the Americans won in 1960 on home soil at Squaw Valley had Olympic hockey domination been claimed by anyone except those playing for hammer and sickle. But, by now, the boys of '80 already had captured a nation's imagination.
"Just the buildup to it," Johnson says when asked what he remembers most. "You know, all the e-mails — well, not the e-mails — the fan mail and the telegrams we were receiving from all over the world," he says, slipping between eras in technology.
The one that most succinctly summed how so many Americans felt, sent by a woman from Texas: "Beat those Commie bastards."
Much easier said than done.
"We were so used to seeing the Soviets turn it on whenever they wanted to score goals," said Morrow, who was simply in awe. "Within a matter of a couple of minutes, they could score three or four goals and put a game out of reach."
This, though, would be different.
As witnessed by millions watching a tape-delayed TV broadcast — ABC knew the result, but refused to inform its viewers, instead letting them watch it unfold for themselves — the Soviets could be beaten.
Tickets to the game topped out at $67.20, face value. Outside the arena, they were scalped for up to three times that much. Inside, the show was well worth whatever the price of admission.
After the Americans got down 1-0, Buzz Schneider skated down the left wing and tied it with a slapshot that beat Vladislav Tretiak, one of the greatest goalies in hockey history. After Johnson made it 2-2 with a rebound that got past Tretiak with one second to go in the opening period, Soviet coach Viktor Tikhonov benched his storied netminder.
Big blunder.
"Mark Johnson's goal, which tied it up, obviously was a big boost," Morrow said. "And then, obviously, having them switch goalies after that gave us a boost mentally."
The Soviets led 3-2 after two periods, but Johnson tied it again, tapping in a deflection for his second goal of the game. U.S. captain Mike Eruzione used a wacky off-the-boards pass from Mark Pavelich, and a screen, to beat Vladimir Myshkin, making it 4-3 with half a period to go. The Americans, behind Jim Craig's goaltending, held on from there.
"We were fortunate to put ourselves in a position to get to the last 10 minutes, where we had the lead," Johnson said. "And then it becomes a 10-minute game instead of a 60-minute game. And then you put yourself in a position where, hey, you have a chance to win."
ABC announcer Al Michaels began his chilling call with 3 seconds still on the clock.
"Do You Believe . . . in Miracles? Yes."
That was all he said for several seconds, until this: "No words necessary. Just pictures."
On the ice, the stunned Americans hugged, jumped and piled up. Sports Illustrated captured the scene, and made it its cover shot. Later, in the locker room, the kids broke into a shaky rendition of "God Bless America."
Back outside, fans gathered in disbelief. Fireworks erupted, actually because of a ski-race medals ceremony that coincidentally ended when the hockey game did. Before long, as lore has it, a U.S. Navy ship stationed in the Atlantic signaled a Soviet sub. The code: "4-3."
But Brooks didn't go on the ice to celebrate. He pumped his fist, then disappeared down a tunnel. The Americans still had one game to go.
"They had a lot of pressure on us in the last couple of minutes of the game, and (we were) just kind of hanging on, actually, towards the end of the game, to win," American defenseman Bob Suter said. "The celebration — it was like we had won the tournament already."
Brooks knew better.
Sunday morning, Feb. 24. 11 a.m. Eastern time, 9 in the Mountain region.
The Americans, their memory of Baker's goal against the Swedes a blur that only would come into focus later, faced Finland. Lose this one, and the win over the Soviets would lose luster. Lose this one, and the U.S. would lose all hopes for a medal.
Fret not.
Down 2-1, USA came back yet again. Phil Verchota's goal tied it. McClanahan, healthy now, got the game-winner. Johnson's insurance goal made it 4-2, and another celebration had begun.
Craig draped himself in the flag, and TV cameras caught him desperately searching the stands for his Dad. Eruzione summoned his teammates to the medals podium. The impossible dream had come true.
"I don't think — I know — none of our players were thinking about the gold medal," Johnson said. "That just sort of developed, and happened. So, when it finally did happen, I think you saw the reaction on the ice: We didn't know how to react."
Added Brooks: "We weren't oblivious to what was around, but we were just so focused on the task at hand that we didn't really have time to do anything. We were sort of in that, quote-unquote, zone, you know? And we couldn't believe what happened, really."
A couple of weekends ago in Los Angeles, the gang got together again. It was the first time all 20 have been together since they went to the White House the day after winning gold. Even now, what they did is tough to fathom.
"We had no idea the whole country was watching," Eruzione said. "We were just playing. It wasn't until after the games were over did we realize the impact."
"I never get tired," Craig said, "of hearing people tell me how much the victory meant to them."
"I think it's a bigger deal now, actually, then it was back then," Suter said. "Back then, it was the excitement of the moment. But, over time, you really appreciate it, and found out what it means to everybody else. . . . Besides what it did for hockey, it just kind of united the country."
It did, at a time the country really needed uniting.
"I think given the David-and-Goliath type scenario, and the fact that it was unique because of the sociological and economic climates of the times, it all combined to be this fabulous upset," U.S. forward Dave Silk said. "I think that, plus the fact it just won't happen again — because of the Iron Curtain coming down, and 'The Great Red Menace' is no more. I just think that, for a lot of reasons, it became a spectacle that spoke not only about sports, but also about banding together and having the determination to pull off upsets."
Twenty-two years later, even today's American-born NHL stars are overwhelmed by the Miracle on Ice.
Some of today's pros were not even alive in 1980. Some, like pillow-throwing Leetch, were not even in their teens. But so many have respect for what this team did that it shouldn't have.
"We've been lucky enough over the years to meet quite a few of them," Leetch said. "They are always just wishing us luck. We're looking at them like, 'I can't believe you guys pulled that off."'