I was supposed to see Red Army early last week. The plans were on the calendar, the friends were recruited, the excitement started to build and then…turns out, it’s not in DC theaters yet. Maybe the disappointment is partially due to the fact that I’m feeling a slight pull to New York lately- it came out there sometime around October- but after watching the trailer a thousand times, the only part of New York I was looking to was Lake Placid.
In pre-Kurt-Russell-as-Herb-Brooks days, there wasn’t a lot of inspiration for a preteen girl being dragged along to yet another hockey tournament for her little sister. It was another set of cold rinks, some boring team dinners, homework in the car rewarded with another cup of watery hot chocolate. (Ave- we’re more kindred spirits than you thought.) But every once in a while, there was something to appreciate, and at some point in the early 2000s, that was Lake Placid.
Jordo remembers it less fondly I’m sure- she had the flu- but I found it to be the loveliest place. Nothing against the Staten Island Rangers’ hockey rink, but there’s something a little more exciting about the rinks at Lake Placid. I’ve come to realize that it’s probably a little like Nassau Coliseum– you know you’re not seeing it in its prime (and to be honest, in their primes, they weren’t exactly beautiful), but there’s at least a little bit of magic from better days stuck in the walls and the floorboards and the air and everywhere around you.
You get to believe in miracles.
I’m not alone in being drawn to feel-good sports stories: it’s nice to see the underdog win and with no hand-eye coordination, it’s nothing I’ll ever be a part of firsthand. I’m inherently really competitive, but with no athletic outlet for that, it bleeds into parts of my life where other people might not feel it at all. I can point to my successes as a result of this as much as it just plain drives me crazy. This blog is a perfect case in point: I’m squeezing at least a book into every week of an entire year. Sure, it’s about intellectual growth and pursuit of a passion, but I’d be lying to say it isn’t also about proving that I can do it. So maybe reading about competition is helpful in channeling some of that feeling…most of the time.
And then, overwhelmingly, there’s the feeling of accomplishing something that once felt insurmountable. When you look at the statistics, the predictions, the history- it’s legitimately impossible that these guys won out there. It’s a Miracle clip, because the actual one doesn’t exist as far as I can tell, but Herb Brooks’s speech could sub in any other situation in order to show that sometimes the little guy defies the odds. Worth a watch. (Sidebar: why isn’t Miracle streaming on Netflix?)
The book itself is fine- I didn’t know much more than the Miracle details, and this really serves to verify a lot of them. At the end of the day, it’s a pretty factual account- straightforward, sometimes a lot to follow. That said, there’s a whole lot more to learn than sports history here, too. Maybe I should have waited until the end of the month- after 15 years on the ice, Jordo plays her last regular season game the day before the 35th anniversary of this game- but for someone looking to get some sense of victory over a larger threat (whatever that enemy looks like), it couldn’t have been a more perfectly timed choice.
You’ll like this if: come on, we all know the story. If you’re into an underdog story- especially if you love America and hate the Soviets- this is your book.
Happy reading!
carlyreads 