A Miracle On Ice

The Miracle (1)

Today was the day. The 22nd February 1980. The USA would play against the Soviet Union.

In front of the US locker room, everyone who had helped piece this team together was assembled.

"Hey, Craig.", Walter called out to the assistant coach as he passed them.

"Walter.", Craig nodded.

"Great, great job.", Walter praised.

Craig Patrick nodded: "Thanks. Sure is, sure is."

"Any chance we can wish the boys luck?", Bob Fleming asked.

"I'm sorry, Bob. You know Herb. Not a good time right now.", Craig had to disappoint: "After the game, all right?"

"Craig, hold up.", they tried again.

"I can't. Herb doesn't want any distractions.", he stayed strong.

Walter tried to help him out: "It's understandable."

Then Craig went into the locker rooms.

"We just wanted to wish them luck.", Lou Nanne stated.

Inside of the locker room Doc was examining OC's knee when Craig interrupted them: "You ready to go?"

OC's head shot up with a bright smile on it: "You serious? Am I playing?"

Craig returned the smile, nudging the boy: "Suit up."

The whole team was dressed in their gear and sitting in their stalls. Nobody was saying anything and the only sound you could hear was Mac's stick tape. Everyone was doing their own thing to calm their nerves, when Herb entered.

On his way to the middle he patted OC on the shoulder.

"Great moments...", Herb started: "...are born from great opportunity. That's what you have here tonight, boys. That's what you've earned here tonight. One game."

Everyone's looks were frozen on Herb: "If we played them ten times, they might win nine. But not this game. Not tonight."

"Tonight we skate with them. Tonight we stay with them. And we shut them down we can. Tonight we are the greatest hockey team in the world.", he stated.

"You were born to be hockey players. Every one of you. And you were born to be here tonight.", Herb continued pouring his heart out.

The room had never been this silent before. Everyone was aware of how important this moment would be in all of their lives.

Herb had always known: "This is your time. Their time is done. It's over. I'm sick and tired of hearing what a great team the Soviets have. Screw them. This is your time!", he got louder.

"Now, go out there and take it!", he exited the locker room.

The team glanced around the room, meeting eyes. They all knew they had to take it and they were ready for it.

Everybody grabbed their sticks and helmets and headed out the locker room. On their way out they all tapped the wall with all their telegrams on it. It had become kind of a ritual.

Then they all passed the reporters and TV people who were cheering them on and walked up to the team entrance.

"Hold up here a second, guys. We're just wait for the okay.", a security guy stopped them.

"We're all set.", someone said over the walkie talkie: "All right. Go ahead and send them in."

"Okay. It's time.", the security guy said.

Rizzo lined the team up to wish each of them luck before stepping onto the ice: "Come on, Jimmy. Come on, Buzzy. Let's hustle. Here we go. Come on, Bakes. Come on, Brots, Dave. Let's go, Strobel.", he went through them.