In Sportsnet magazine’s latest digital issue, The 25 Greatest NHL Games of All Time (it’s free!), five of our insiders recall the greatest hockey game they’ve ever witnessed. Here, Chris Johnston remembers the men’s Olympic gold-medal game in 2010.
The game started at noon local time. I’d met my boss for breakfast and got to the rink around 8:30 a.m. I took a cab there, and driving through the streets of Vancouver was insane. Every bar was lined up out the door. I just could not believe all the people in the streets, everyone in Canada jerseys. I’ve never seen anything like it, any Cup final I’ve been to—just this really expectant feeling.
Through the Olympics the city had this really tense feeling, like it was ready to burst—but nothing like that morning. There was so much build-up for that game for, really, years. From the moment Vancouver got the Olympics, there was more focus on that Team Canada than ever before. They wobbled a bit early in the tournament, losing to the U.S. and sneaking a shootout win over Switzerland. You weren’t sure they were going to win it all. Everyone was a little scared in a weird way. I was tense the whole day, even with no stake in the outcome, just because of that feeling. Even years later, while I forget what I did yesterday, I can still conjure up that feeling; it felt like you were in the middle of the most important thing going on in the world at that moment. There’s a lot of tension in that—so much is on the line, and you can’t control it. People wanted it to be worth it.
I got to the rink and there was a lot of security. The media entrance was under an overpass, and I just remember tons of people, a crush of humanity. After getting in I walked around the concourse; it looked like everyone brought a flag. It was quieter than you would expect, but it filled up early—I’m sure some people managed to buy from scalpers, but it was the kind of ticket that, once Canada made it, anyone who had one was gonna use it.
The cool part about the Olympics for journalists is we get to sit in the stands. Being in press boxes, sometimes you’re a little removed from the action, but I was in the sixth or seventh row—it felt like we were more a part of it. I took a picture of the opening faceoff, just because I was sitting so close. For me, I was like, “I can’t believe I’m here.” I’m sure I wasn’t alone in that.
We’ve ranked the 25 Greatest
NHL Games Ever Played. Get the free, digital-only edition of Sportsnet magazine on your iOS or Android device right now.
That game was so fast, right from the start. It was a real benefit to the game that it was on a smaller ice surface. It was pretty clear early on that no one wanted to make a mistake—there was just no hockey bullshit at all. No one wanted to take a penalty. It was just hard, fast, quick shifts, and that drew you in.
The atmosphere got more exuberant because the game was great, and then Canada scored, and scored again; and at 2–0 I think the crowd relaxed. People had been nervous about Roberto Luongo, but he was pretty sharp early on. Everything appeared to be going the right way, and I think that’s why people loosened up. It started getting loud—it was really loud.
After the U.S. scored, my recollection of it was, it was a blow, but the atmosphere didn’t turn as nervous as it had been pre-game. I think people felt reasonably confident. And Canada played well after that—they didn’t go into a shell. Crosby had a breakaway with three or four minutes left, and missed. Then it got a little bit nerve-racking. For at least the last minute, with Canada ahead 2–1, everyone was on their feet cheering. It felt like you were counting down to the gold medal. Like, “Oh, this is what was supposed to happen and now they’re gonna grind it out here and the game will end.”
And then, with 25 seconds left, Zach Parise scored. After that it was as anxious as it had been before—times a million. And silent. Totally silent. It’s like everyone went quiet and had a moment with their thoughts: “Uh-oh. Maybe we’ve miscalculated here.” It felt like a dreadfully long time when they resurfaced the ice before overtime. I know Mike Babcock went in the dressing room and said, “Who’s gonna be our hero?” He could have given that speech to the building. It seemed like the whole weight of the world was on everyone’s shoulders. Honestly, I remember feeling sick to my stomach at intermission.
It got loud again when overtime started. The U.S. had one decent chance, but Canada didn’t really flirt with danger. Somehow, with everything that was hanging over them, they were able to push it aside and perform. The goal came out of nowhere. He scored it from a position on the ice I’ve never seen goals come from. We could definitely hear Crosby say, “Iggy! Iggy!”calling for the pass. It was clear, the urgency in his voice, that he saw an opportunity.
It felt like there was a delay—like, a third of a second—from when the puck went in to the building exploding. There was almost the briefest moment of disbelief, like “Crosby? Did that really just happen?” If it was a movie, it would have been too perfect. And then it was on—it was crazy. People were throwing things and going bananas, more than for a Stanley Cup win. Someone from the crowd threw their Canadian flag over the glass. It was on a ridiculously long flag pole, and I remember Crosby skating around with it.
It was just pure relief for everybody, and especially the players. The best part was just in those few minutes after the goal because everyone could finally relax again, knowing that for four more years, we weren’t going to be questioned as the best hockey nation.
How do you write about Sidney Crosby scoring that goal—what can anyone say? In the media zone Joe Thornton said, “Thank God he was born in Canada.” That kinda summed it up. I had a long chat with Steve Yzerman, and his reaction then was so understated and so muted. It was just relief. He recounted all the ways it could have gone wrong, and how he was glad they decided to go with skill and speed with the team.
We left the rink, and just as we were walking out the fireworks were going off for the closing ceremonies at BC Place around the corner. The streets were bananas. During the Games, the journalists drank at a bar called Library Square because they would let us skip the line and they gave us our own little area. So we went in there, and the first thing I saw—this is probably three hours after the end of the game—is a young woman dancing on a table topless with a Canadian flag. It was just like, “Oh my God. I can’t handle this party.” I’d been at the game and following the team professionally—I wasn’t on the same trajectory as the rest of the country. That moment demonstrated that. I was still experiencing relief and everyone else was well into the celebration.
The Olympics is a level above any other tournament; it’s just a different animal. The players feel it, too. It’s not as hard to win as the Stanley Cup, which is more of a grind, but all the best players are there. I couldn’t keep up watching that game. I couldn’t process it properly because it was just moving so quickly. There were no bad players, no players making dumb decisions, because the stakes were so high. It was hockey in the way it’s really meant to be played.
I think the athletes fed off each other. A lot of the players said they felt like a part of the bigger Team Canada because they were in the Olympic Village, and when someone came home with a gold medal, everyone came out and celebrated. I think they felt, in a weird way, like they had to hold up their end of the bargain.
I was there when they won in Sochi, too, and I knew a lot of those players and had a couple of beers with them. Rick Nash said the one nice thing about Sochi, which was so different, was there they felt like they won it for themselves, but in Vancouver, they felt like they won it for everybody else. I’ve never experienced anything like that before, and I doubt the players have either. —As told to Shannon Proudfoot
Illustration by Jacqui Oakley