Do you remember what you were doing 32 years ago tonight? Unless you were having a baby or turning 21 or hosting a big party for George Washington's 248th birthday, that's probably a stupid question. But let's see if we can jog your memory.
Feb. 22, 1980, was when the American hockey team beat the Soviet Union in the Winter Olympics in Lake Placid, N.Y. Even for casual sports fans, that was truly a night to remember. In fact, Sports Illustrated later named that game the Top Sports Moment of the 20th Century. A hockey game. Played by amateurs.
Many of you may recall the story surrounding that event, about how the big, bad Russians were the world's greatest hockey team and the U.S. squad was a bunch of college kids who had played together for only a few months. The Russians had won every Olympics hockey gold medal since 1964, having outscored their opponents 175—44.
The seventh-seeded Americans were tremendous underdogs, and although they were impressing fans by playing well up to that point, only the most hard-core optimists gave them much of a chance against the slick and powerful Soviets. In an exhibition game played a few weeks earlier, the Russians dominated the American team in a staggering 10-3 victory.
Some people might say — now as well as then — "So what? It's just a hockey game," but in the historical context of that time, it was much more. American self-respect was at a low point. 1980 was only a few messy years removed from Watergate and Vietnam.
The economy was in horrible shape. We had widespread gas shortages. 52 Americans were being held hostage in Iran and the Soviets had just invaded Afghanistan. Thirty-two years ago, many of us still had unsettling memories of Cold War saber-rattling and bomb shelters and Nikita Khrushchev saying, "We will bury you!" Americans were tired of being taunted.
The hockey game was played on a Friday evening, but for some reason it wasn't on TV in most parts of the country. Apparently there was no national radio broadcast, either. I was driving across Indiana that night, with my right hand twirling the car's radio dial hoping to find any news about the game. I eventually stumbled across one station which was providing updates as news came in from Lake Placid every few minutes.
At that point, the Americans were down 2-1, but then tied it at the end of the second period. The Soviets retook the lead, but once again the U.S. knotted the score at 3-3 in the middle of the third period. A short time later, the radio announcer excitedly broke the news that the Americans had gone ahead, 4-3, with 10 minutes left in the game. Seriously? Could it actually happen?
Each subsequent, tense update on the radio had the same score, with time winding down . . . way too slowly for me. Finally the screaming announcement came, deliriously: It's over! We won!
I instinctively started honking my horn. The celebration — any celebration — was on. This was a stunning victory moment for all of us. At the Massachusetts home of team captain Mike Eruzione (who scored the winning goal), dozens of fans gathered on his lawn and sang the national anthem. There were many stories about strangers spontaneously hugging when they heard the news. It wasn't V-J Day in Times Square, but a cathartic emotional release nonetheless. One reporter in Lake Placid wrote that he saw New York state troopers crying. What a night.
A lot of people who know about that famous game may not remember that it was only the semi-final round: the Americans still had to beat a good Finland team on the following Sunday to win the Olympic gold medal. It was kind of like that incredible sixth game of the World Series last year: the late-inning rallies and David Freese's dramatic home run would have been a lot less historic if the Cardinals hadn't won the next night.
Like Tony LaRussa, Olympics coach Herb Brooks probably feared a post-euphoria letdown for his team after beating the Russians. When he addressed his players before the final game, he supposedly said something to the effect of, "If you lose now, you'll carry it to your graves."
Fortunately, the Americans still had gas in their tank, and they beat the Finns to complete the "Miracle on ice."
Now a generation later, in a post-perestroika era with Gorbachev having torn down that wall and Russians playing in the NHL, it's hard for many people to grasp the intensity of that competition and the significance of its moment in our psyches. But for the rest of us, it sure is fun to remember. God bless America.
Steve Unger has been professionally writing for 30-plus years to help companies sell stuff. His Journal columns are a labor of love to salute the people, places and charm of St. Louis. If you'd like to share a memory of St. Louis or just drop him a line, he can be reached at stevethewordguy@aol.com.
