Less than two minutes into overtime of the men’s gold-medal hockey game at the Milano Cortina Olympics, between the U.S.A. and Canada, the American Jack Hughes—a fresh gap in his teeth, his mouth still bloody from a high stick in the third period—lunged and poked the puck around a Canadian defender. The ice, which had seemed crowded with players colliding at incredible speeds during regulation, suddenly opened up—Olympic hockey uses a three-on-three format during overtime instead of the ordinary five-on-five. The Canadian Nathan MacKinnon had an angle on the puck, but there was an air of caution about him as he skated toward it. Perhaps fatigue was setting in. MacKinnon had been all over the rink all game, which was as fast, and as physical, and as highly skilled, surely, as any hockey competition in history. He’d had his own chances to score; halfway through the third period, he’d even missed an open net. So it had gone for Canada all day. Perhaps MacKinnon was haunted, seeing ghosts. Or perhaps it was the sight of three real, live Americans streaking into the attacking zone.
MacKinnon glided toward the puck—and toward Zach Werenski, who’d beaten him there. Then the Canadian hesitated, ever so slightly. That was all it took. Werenski was able to fight him off, turn back, and get off a sharp pass across the ice to Hughes, who was flying up the left side. Hughes was ready for it. He shot and scored, a goal that gave the U.S. its first gold in men’s hockey since 1980, when a bunch of college kids beat the mighty Soviets on their way to the final.
There is now, as there was then, a political context that seemed to inform every hard hit, every ringing chant for Canada or for the U.S.A. Donald Trump, after all, has made no secret of his contempt for Canadians or his disregard of their sovereignty. And the Canadians have made hockey, the country’s national sport, a kind of referendum on their strong identity. “You can’t take our country—and you can’t take our game,” wrote the Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau after the Canadians’ overtime win over the U.S. for the 4 Nations Face-Off trophy last year—one of the wildest, most highly charged sporting events I’ve ever seen. But the thrilling reality is that these U.S. and Canada teams were well matched in most measures, and together put on a display of unbelievable speed and skill. The competitive intensity between them had less to do with some narrative of freedom versus tyranny based on the two nations’ differences and more to do with their familiarity. The U.S. and Canadian players face each other all year long, crisscrossing the border. Some of them are teammates, and might even refer to one another as family. They know each other’s weaknesses and tendencies. They respect each other, sometimes grudgingly. But it was obvious from the determination on both sides that they understood friendships don’t define rivalries. “There’s hatred there,” the quick-to-brawl American forward Brady Tkachuk said before the game. “I mean, they’ve been the top dog. They’ve been the best for the last bunch of years, and, for us, we want to be in that position, be the best. So it’s going to be a game where I think a lot of guys could say, This is the biggest game that they’ve ever played in.”
And after Hughes’s golden goal, that’s the way it seemed. Blue gloves and helmets flew into the air, and the players poured onto the ice in jubilation. “It was just euphoria,” Charlie McAvoy said. “I can’t even explain what I was feeling, just pure joy.” The Canadians, meanwhile, are left with silver medals and regrets over missed opportunities. Because for most of the game, right up until the moment that Hughes kicked the puck out of the corner to begin Team U.S.A.’s winning attack, Canada had the clear edge in every respect—except goaltending. The Canadians outshot the Americans 42–28. Hughes’s goal will be the single moment from this game that is long remembered, but it was Connor Hellebuyck’s performance that made it possible. Hellebuyck stood up in traffic, stuffed Connor McDavid (the best player in the world) on a breakaway, and somehow managed to reach back and use his paddle to deflect what should have been a tap-in by Devon Toews near the start of the third. Hellebuyck, with forty-one saves, is the game’s true hero.
