THE GREATEST GAME IN THE WORLD

Jim Tamburino
Feb 25
4 min read

By Jim Tamburino

We’ve seen a lot of hockey games in our time. We’ve watched the replays of the greatest ever played. The grainy ones, the legendary ones. The ones our parents swore we had to understand to understand this.

And today… Today needed to be one of them. Maybe the one.

The anticipation started before sunrise. Wide awake at 5 a.m. Eastern time. Like Christmas morning when you’re ten years old and you swear you heard something downstairs.

But I’m forty-four. And it’s three hours before puck drop.

I wake up. Look at the phone. 4:59 A.M. I rise out of bed with ease. Although a bit under the weather, the anticipation of what’s ahead somehow relieves that. Check on the kids, brush my teeth, fix a hot pot of coffee. Get ready to check in on the rink and staff. The normal routine. And then pace. Two hours and fifty minutes until puck drop. Just under two hours until the pre-game shows.

It’s been quite the buildup. The rivalry that doesn’t need promotion. The quiet hope through the entire Olympic tournament that it would end the only way it truly could…

U.S.A. vs. Canada.

The storylines wrote themselves. Brothers. Hughes. Tkachuk. Sharing a sweater. Sharing a dream. Representing something bigger than blood.

And then the news. My favorite athlete, #87, couldn’t dress for Canada. Is this the last time we see him on this stage? Do we close his legacy with a “what if”?

When the kids woke up, I had to do some heavy convincing for my oldest, Lilah, 4, to reserve the TV in the den. It took a bit, but I think she even somehow understood the magnitude of something special happening this morning. Soon enough, she was all in on the team wearing the white jerseys. So was I.

From puck drop, there was no feeling-out process. Just impact. Bodies. Will. Back and forth chances, and pressure. And nerves. Then…

Boldy.

Splitting two of the best defensemen in the world. Makar & Toews.

1–0, U.S.A.

Open nets. Game-changing chances. Moments that should have been destiny… Somehow staying out of the American net.

Connor Hellebuyck. They say, “He’s never won a big one. ”They say a lot of things, until someone proves them wrong.

The intensity never dipped.

Canada’s 5-on-3 powerplay? Killed. A four-minute U.S. power play? Shortened. Survived.

A tie game that felt heavily tilted north of the border heading to overtime.

Three-on-three. Maybe you don’t love it at this stage. I certainly don’t either. It shouldn’t end this way. But it doesn’t ask for permission. It just delivers drama.

Breakaways. Empty nets. A goalie stick paddle and desperation saves. And then…

Another golden goal.

From the pre-game show to the final horn, I couldn’t sit down. I stood inches from that TV in our den. Like, if I leaned closer, I could will it forward.

And then the post-game photos.

Brothers wrapped in American flags. Players seeking out family members in the seats. NHL rivals who spend 82 games + playoffs despising each other. Now embracing like family. Like brothers.

Johnny Gaudreau’s children on the ice for the team photos. Holding his jersey. His family watching from the seats. That’s when I finally sat.

And like most I’m sure, I teared up. And I cried.

It’s hard to explain the emotions that ran through me, and still are, just from watching from afar on a TV in our home. I’ll be honest. There’s no strong personal attachment to the team. Of course, there’s pride for your country and your country’s team. But, win or lose, I’m waking up at 5am three hours before puck drop to see a great hockey game, regardless of which way it goes. But sitting there, watching the players celebrate. The coaching staff. The fans and family members in the arena seats. On top of one of the greatest hockey games we will ever witness. And a game that could have easily went the other way. All of it collectively and ultimately led to another magical, and historical, hockey day.

And somehow, it lands forty-six years to the day since the 1980 ‘Miracle on Ice’. History doesn’t repeat itself. But sometimes… it sure does rhyme.

What this does for USA Hockey. From frozen ponds and local facilities to packed arenas. From grassroots programs to national stages. You can’t measure it in medals.

It’s measured in driveway nets.

In alarm clocks set for 5 a.m.

In kids who will fall in love with the game today.

It was a near-perfect display of hockey at its highest level. For the entire world to witness.

And it’s a reminder that sport, at its best, brings people together.

Pride.

Accomplishment.

Team.

Brotherhood.

Sisterhood.

Family.

United.