Do you believe in miracles?

I am a bit too young to remember 1980. To me, the United States hockey upset of the Soviet Union at Lake Placid is just a TV clip and an Al Michaels phrase, repeated on nostalgic sports shows year after year. I have witnessed many great moments in sports, but never has a team made me chant "USA!" and filled me with patriotic fever. Never, that was, until I entered Madison Square Garden earlier this month for a World Cup of Hockey game between the USA and the hockey power formerly known as the USSR.

The win over Canada

As my three friends (including one comrade) and I climbed the escalators to our seats, the atmosphere was enthralling. After a brief sighting of anxious Islander coach Mike Milbury in the will-call line, we arrived just in time for the American anthem and the initial surge of electricity that went through the partisan crowd, igniting the first of many "USA!" chants. The U.S. scored on the Russians early and often, and the once-vocal Russian minority had their attempted cheers drowned out by the lovely cries of "Russia sucks!" and even an occasional "Chernobyl!" In addition to the U.S. domination on the ice and in the stands, other highlights of the night were the booing of the Macarena (definitely not a hockey thing) and checking out the many colorful Russian jerseys running around the stadium. The night was so fun, I didn't even mind the fact that our train back to New Haven was originally on fire or that I paid $5.25 for a beer (American, of course).

Once I, like most people, got a taste of the play of the tourney itself, I was hooked. Crowds were boisterous not only in New York, but in every other site as well. In Philadelphia, Flyers Eric Lindros, Eric Desjardins, and Rob Brind'Amour were booed like Frank Brickowski in Chicago. Canada indulged in the patriotic fever and was the site of strong anti-American feelings, with Canadian-born but American passport-bearing Brett Hull as the Canuck version of Benedict Arnold. An Ottawa crowd even went so far as to, oh no, embarrass Don Cherry by cheering on the once-despised Russians against the U.S. in a semifinal.

This intensity carried over to the players as well. When you see Mark Messier hacking away at fellow Ranger Brian Leetch, you realize that this is not simply a bunch of big-name players going through the all-star game motions. In addition, most of the rosters were steeped with enough talent that even casual hockey fans could recognize the third lines of each team. The combination of this talent level and the passion for victory helped produce hockey that was even more exciting and entertaining than the usual thrills that emerge annually from the NHL playoffs.

Of course, the big thrill for any USA fan was the play of the red, white, and blue. Having rolled through the preliminaries, the U.S. matched up with the proud Canadians in the three-game final. The U.S. had beaten Canada in the preliminaries, but everyone expected the higher stakes of the final to present the ultimate challenge. Despite a dramatic U.S. goal with six seconds left in regulation to tie the opener in Philly, the Canadians gained the upper hand when Steve Yzerman scored in overtime, sending Canada home for the remaining two games, needing to win just one for the title. Yet the U.S., 0-7-1 against Canada in previous Canada Cup competitions, were unlike many of their previous ancestors. They managed to continue the hard, physical, and disciplined play that they had displayed throughout the tournament as they won game two (where even the gentlemanly Pat LaFontaine threw some vicous elbows) and rallied from behind to capture game three.

The U.S. seldom showed signs of panic, even when they entered the final minutes of the decisive contest down 2-1. With the pressure on and eight minutes remaining, Canada uncharacteristically started to defensively dump the puck. The U.S. continued to get the clutch plays when they were most needed, whether it was a Joel Otto faceoff win or Brett Hull's amazing tip-in with under four minutes left to tie the game. Meanwhile, the Canadians could not finish on their own key plays, as demonstrated by Claude Lemieux's third period breakaway whiff and Wayne Gretzky's narrow failure to tip in a great Messier pass and tie the game in the final minute. But the U.S. continued to shine when, soon after Hull's goal, Tony Amonte followed on a shaky rebound off Curtis Joseph, a score which proved to be the game-winner.

The U.S. also had one other advantage, goalie Mike Richter, the deserving winner of the MVP motorcycle. Aside from the Yzerman overtime goal, Richter was a rock in every game. He constantly outplayed CuJo, who started off the tourney very hot but could not maintain the momentum. His shakiness in the last minutes of the 5-2 final raised questions about whether the Canadians made the right choice in not playing more of Martin Brodeur early in the tournament, rather than the veteran who spent most of last year in the minor leagues.

There is nothing better in sports to watch than a close hockey game with something on the line, a belief validated by what I saw of the World Cup. I only wish that more of my fellow Americans would watch hockey and enjoy the excitement and happiness that I felt last week.

And as for those Canadians who couldn't stand to lose the game to their obnoxious neighbor, they should take heed that it is just for 1996 that American hockey is king, and that being the home country of the fastest 4x100 relay team in the world is still something to be proud of.