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Miracle in Lake Placid
From Memoir Moments by Mary Kuykendall
While all of us were thrilled to “work” on the downhill race, we had a competition of our own going. When the U.S. hockey team, mostly made up of college players, beat Finland and went on to face the professional Russian team, the national press went wild. So did our Capital District gang at our usual evening celebrations at the lakeside cottage bar. Tickets simply were not available for the game. Stories about those having tickets able to sell them for 100 times their value prevailed. After a few rounds of ale, some suggested we have a contest to see who could finagle their way into the actual hockey game rather than watch it on Canadian TV at the Holiday Inn.
So the next evening, we trundled off to the hockey rink in downtown Lake Placid for the “miracle” event. A huge crowd was already there. It looked impossible to even get near the door to plead our case. It turned out that Bill Kornrumpf would be my closest competitor in gaining entry. Because his blue suit was clearly labeled “maintenance,” he cleverly spotted the Zamboni used to smooth choppy ice in the arena. He decided his best chance was to follow it into the arena, hoping it didn’t break down and he was called upon to repair it.
I was still feeling sick after catching what I thought must be all the foreign flus available at the international event which attracted twenty-two nations. I saw a medic at the first aid station and went over noting I was not feeling well. She took my temperature which was about 104 and said, “Come with me.” We went inside the arena to the first aid facility. She gave me some Tylenol and had me lie down on a gurney. Then she left to get a sneak peek at the game now starting. I quickly jumped up and donned a doctor’s smock, went through the door the nurse had taken, and soon found myself in the arena.
The noise was overwhelming and the huge crowd was on their feet yelling. Some shoving was occurring, so I decided I had better get rid of the medical outfit in case someone needed help. I dumped it in a trashcan. My blue suit sleeve identified me as a “controller” but did not say downhill.
The next thing I knew, a hockey volunteer grabbed my arm and said, “Thank goodness someone called for crowd control. Get over to Aisle 3 and clear it. People are taking each other’s seats there and others are in the aisle to get the best view of the action.” So naturally I did as I was told. I pointed to my identification as I asked people to move out of the aisle. Then I sat down in it to make sure it stayed clear.
I am sorry to say that at the time I did not know there were just three periods to the game, not four as in football. Moreover, I was not familiar with hockey plays. I was astounded to see the players battling it out even when they were not in play. Having done some ice skating myself, I was really impressed with the agility of the players. But I was confused when they seemed to go out of their way to bash each other up against the arena wall even after a score was made. Unlike football, there didn’t seem to be penalties. Instead, the sound of clashing hockey sticks–sometimes into each other– just brought cheers.
When the U.S. team made a score, I wondered if I might lose my hearing. I was clearly in the U.S. cheering section and it seemed no one would sit down. They were constantly on their feet yelling, even when there was no action during the period change. It was during such times I would look at the Russian team members, clearly puzzled about the roar despite no action. Today, when I look back on what they now call “The Miracle on Ice,” I have decided this was a case where the fans won the game. Their unrelenting, incredible support for the U.S. team had not only rallied our college athletes but had disarmed the confused professional Russians.
But most of all, I could see the ABC camera across from me. I occasionally waved hoping my friends would see me. They were at the Holiday Inn watching TV. I had also been relieved to see that when the Zamboni came into the arena during a period break, it did not contain Bill Kornrumpf.
When I left the arena, the roar of the crowd was still in my ears and I had forgotten about my temperature. Now I think about how orderly the celebrating crowd was compared to some fans today. A group had assembled and in their glee they surrounded a police car and lifted it into the air; the policemen helped them do it.
I was quite pleased to be the winner of the Hockey Game Crash and took much pleasure in the free ales at the cottage.
