Ozzie, built like a bear, literally came roaring out of the Washington Hall freshmen dorm at Ohio University.
“We beat the Russians! We beat the (expletive) Russians!” he screamed with a guttural roar, arms above his head as he sprinted toward us across the East Green.
That’s how I learned of the Miracle on Ice on Feb. 22, 1980 — 40 years ago today — the day Team USA knocked off the unbeatable Soviet Union ice hockey team, 4-3, in the medal round of the Winter Olympics in Lake Placid, N.Y.
It was a game the USA could not win against an opponent who could not lose.
Sports upsets pop up here and there, i.e. Buster Douglas beating Mike Tyson or Joe Namath and the Jets beating the Baltimore Colts in the Super Bowl, but this was something that simply … could … not … happen.
This was a high school football team beating the 1970s Pittsburgh Steelers. This was a grade-school basketball team beating the John Wooden UCLA Bruins. This was Angola beating the Dream Team in Olympic basketball.
This was American college hockey players against full-grown Soviet men who routinely beat NHL All-Star teams and Stanley Cup champions. Just before the Olympics began, the Soviets drilled Team USA, 10-3, in an exhibition.
This was, well, the likes of which I had never seen before or will ever see again.
Sports Illustrated dubbed it the greatest sports moment of the 20th Century. And it was a moment few saw live, save for 8,500 fans who packed the ice arena, chanting “USA! USA!” the moment captain Mike Eruzione and his fresh-faced, college-aged teammates skated onto the ice.
By today’s media standards, the game started at 5 p.m. and was unbelievably not seen on live TV. ABC inquired about moving the game to 8 p.m., but the Soviet hockey federation didn’t agree.
This was the height of the Cold War. The U.S. had already announced it would boycott the upcoming Summer Games in Moscow after the Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan.
ABC President Roone Arledge thought about showing the game live at 5 p.m., but decided against a live broadcast that would air at 2 p.m. on the West Coast when no one in California would be home to see it.
Team USA was going to lose, so a tape-delay in prime time would suffice, Arledge and others determined.
My college friend, Ozzie, was from Toledo, home of Eruzione. Ozzie was also a fan of Ken Morrow, the defenseman from Bowling Green State University. Most of us at OU at the time knew little else of this team, though Ozzie kept us updated as the Olympics progressed.
We learned some of the other names. Jim Craig. Buzz Schneider. Dave Silk. Dave Christian. Mark Pavelich. And a college coach named Herb Brooks who led this team and the program with an iron fist.
A last-second 2-2 tie against Sweden in the first game. A shocking 7-3 win against Czechoslovakia in the second. Relatively easy wins against Norway, Romania and West Germany.
4-0-1 and a spot against the Soviet Union in the first medal-round game.
Most of my friends and I were outside the dorm at 5 p.m., planning on what we wanted to do on a typical college weekend in Athens in 1980, i.e. which of the 25-plus uptown bars did we intend to visit. None of us planned to watch the game that night.
That changed the second Ozzie came screaming out of the dorm with the news. In a heartbeat, things changed. We were not overly political, but we knew the United States was struggling at home and on the world stage.
We were coming off President Nixon’s resignation, the Vietnam War, four years of horrible economic news under President Jimmy Carter, a time in which we learned of “stagflation,” crippling inflation combined with outrageous jobless rates. Americans at the U.S. embassy were being held hostage in Iran. Energy crisis had become a common topic.
When Ozzie ran to us shouting, and we realized, what had happened, we were suddenly patriots. We began jumping and chanting “USA! USA!” There were hugs. High fives. Maybe even a few tears.
In a moment, something had changed. In us. And across the country. Call it pride. Call it patriotism. Call it an overreaction to a simple hockey game. Call it what you want. But something had changed.
We went uptown — to buy beer and race back to the TV lounge. We packed the room and roared during the taped replay.
There was still another match to play against Finland on Sunday to clinch the Gold medal. Team USA trailed 2-1 after two periods, but rallied to win 4-2.
That last game was anti-climatic, though we did watch it live on TV. We had beaten the Soviets 40 years ago today.
And I can still hear Ozzie the Bear roaring the news.
