"DO YOU BELIEVE IN MIRACLES?...YES!" those words still ring in the recent history of our country. David met Goliath and kicked his ass again, on a hockey rink in Lake Placid, New York in 1980. But now the Moses of that time lies dead in a ravine in Minnesota. Herb Brooks lost his life and this is his story.

1980 was a tough year for the U.S. Iran took over our embassy and took our citizens hostage. President Carter tried a feeble attempt to rescue them that failed miserably in the Iran desert. The Russians invaded Afghanistan, so President Carter refused to let our athletes attend the summer Olympics in Moscow. But the winter Olympics were scheduled for Lake Placid, New York and the Russians were coming. They had annihilated our Olympic hockey team 10-3 the week before in an exhibition game at Madison Square Garden and this time David wasn't even armed with a rock coming into the final games.

Herb Brooks was the head coach at the University of Minnesota when he was chosen to lead the 1980 Olympic hockey team. The team would consist of amateur college players, thus observing the one law of the Olympic games: NO PROFESSIONALS. Of course, the rest of the world didn't always adhere to this rule. The Russian team consisted of seasoned professional hockey players who would quit playing a few months before the games and join the Olympic team to insure Russia the gold medal. They had played together for years, were the best hockey team in the world and usually dominated the winter games.

But Herb Brooks was a one-of-a-kind hockey coach. It wasn't just the fact that he brought the Minnesota team to a national title, it was how he did it. His work ethic was unlike anyone else's at the time and when he picked up the reins of the U. S. team, he knew what he would have to do to beat any of the European teams; he would have to drive his team to an extreme hatred of losing.

At the core of the team was the goalie and for that job, Brooks chose Jim Craig, who was the best college goalie who had played for him. He also chose Mike Eruzione to lead the team as the captain. Craig and Eruzione really didn't like each other, but they knew how to play together and the U.S. team kicked ass in the exhibition games. That is, until they came up against a Norwegian team that kicked their asses and put the upcoming games into perspective. A week later, they got a real wake-up call when they played the Russians at Madison Square Garden just a few days before the Olympic games were to begin and they got hammered by the Soviet professionals by a score of 10-3. It was the first time they realized they were playing against real hockey players and not an amateur team.

The Russian team was an average 24 years old, the U.S. team averaged 20 years old. The Russians averaged twenty pounds heavier than the Americans, too. They had played what in Russia was the equivalent of a professional team, in that the government paid for everything and they lived well in their country. They were household names in Russia, every kid had their pictures on their walls like we'd have Brett Farve or Joe Montana. Their games were shown over national television and the players were celebrities everywhere they went on the European continent.

But the Americans still had a pretty good team. They won five games in a row as did the Russians and the team from Finland. The final game would pit the winner of the American-Russian match against the Finnish team. The Fins were a great team and the world was ready for the faceoff between the Russians and the Fins as soon as the Russians could dispense with the gritty little American team.

As the game opened, the Russians scored on Jim Craig almost at will. One-nothing, two-nothing, three-nothing, but then Herb had a conference with the team. What was said was merely this: "If you lose today you'll carry it with you the rest of your lives. If you get shut out, you'll never be able to show your faces again." And with that the U.S team scored three unanswered goals to tie the game.

At the close of the second period with a tied score, the American captain, Mike Eruzione, slapped a shot on goal that managed to see its way between two defenders and the crouched-down Russian goalie who never saw the puck. The score was now 4-3 in favor of the US and that was all we needed. Even Al Michaels said at the beginning of the period, "It would take a miracle to keep the Russians from scoring." This was repeated as shot after shot was caught or deflected by Jim Craig, the US goalie.

The minutes turned to seconds. There was a sick look on the faces of the Russian players as they began to realize the Americans weren't giving an inch. With only a minute left, the Russians were still too proud to pull their goalie to become the sixth player. If they couldn't tie the game, another goal by the Americans would mean nothing and yet, there he stood in the goal hoping the other five Russians would somehow pull off the miracle the US team managed to do and score just one more time.

The seconds ticked off..7..6...5...4...3..."DO YOU BELIEVE IN MIRACLES?" screamed Al Michaels 2....1...."YES!!!" was Al's final word and the American public finally had something to cheer about in 1980, something and someone to be proud of in that year of shame and humiliation. For a brief moment in time we all came together as Americans to cheer our side on. Maybe it wouldn't last long, maybe we'd all forget in no time, but for the moment, the pride of a nation of winners, the underdogs that manage to come back, was ours.

It would come to last for years and years as an example. The 1980 Olympic Hockey team would resonate in almost every corner of our society, whenever we needed to point a finger towards American determination and eternal optimism. We, as a nation, supported not just the losers but finally got to wrap the American flag around a couple of winners.

Unfortunately, the end came for Herb Brooks in a Minnesota cornfield, where he met the Great Referee who just said, "Its the Big Penalty Box for you Herb." Like a few American heroes who make their mark on time, Herb Brooks' "15 minutes of fame" lasted the rest of his life. But many like him will be vaguely remembered for their behind the scenes heroism, the moment revered by all those who remember the moment forever; the heroes forgotten so quickly.

Ken Pearlman