Miracle on Ice

Miracle on Ice Weird anniversary today. In 1980, Jane was working the front desk at the Lodge (for $7 an hour) and was pregnant with Brendan. During her shift, she noticed that she was spotting some blood. Concerned, she called her doctor (Dr. Thorngate). Of course, she couldn’t get through to the doctor, so she described her symptoms to the nurse. “Oh. It looks like you are having a miscarriage. Save the tissue and bring it with you to your next appointment.” Jane lost it…to the point where her friends at the desk called me to please come and get her. Valentine and I drove down to the Lodge and literally had to carry Jane out to the car. She was hysterical. With good reason. Meanwhile I called good old Peter Dintiman, our brand new doctor buddy in Colorado. “That is bullshit. Get her out of there. Tell her to just take it easy. Don’t run or jump around. Bring her here and I’ll talk to her. Oh, and get another OB-Gyn!” So I did. I got a rental car, packed up Jane and our ski equipment and we drove to Telluride. As one does during a miscarriage. It’s a great drive we have done a hundred times: through the Mohave, across northern Arizona, then through Navajo country and Canyon de Chelly and the Four Corners tofinish in the San Juan mountains. It started to snow when we left Cortez, and quickly became a blizzard. We were racing to get to Telluride before the roads closed, and I was driving faster and faster. Being stuck in the San Juan’s for days was not part of the plan. By the time we hit Rico, it as a full fledged blizzard with hardly any visibility. We knew Rico…the snowiest town in the lower 48 states! Rico also had a girls softball team in the local league who often played in Telluride. The Rico team was sponsored by a bank robbing gang, the Rico Freako’s. When they came to our town they’d post up in our bar, complete with automatic weapons, lines chopped out on the juke box, etc. A fun bunch from a fun town. Rico, unbeknownst to me had a big, wide country main street..wide enough for a team of horses to do a u-turn with a big ore wagon. Therefore, when they plowed they piled up the snow in the middle of the street, creating two lanes. I came barreling into town with no viz and no clue at 40 mph and hit the big snow pile like Sherman hit Atlanta. The rent-a-car rolled a time or two as it crashed through the barrier, but somehow finished right side up on the top of the heap. This was great fun for the locals in the bars. When they found out we knew the Freako’s, they rallied, and in no time we were pulled back onto the flat with just some slight stonewashing and a newly 10 wired muffler. Don’t run or jump around, right? We barely made it into town. Peter was, for once in his too short life, a kind, calming influence. His verdict: if the baby survived the car crash, Jane was good to go. To go skiing that is! “Just take it easy. No moguls!” So we did. The storm kept on burying the town and slopes in feet of powder, so it was an ethereal experience…smooth, silent, drifting in a cloud of snow. The US hockey team was playing Russia in the gold medal final at the Olympics in Lake Placid. In the era before cell phones and internet, the lift attendants were all listening to the match on transistor radios and had chalk boards at the bottom of each lift with the progress. To add to the frisson, the great Ken Dryden, my fraternity brother from Cornell was the color commentator. Russia1-0 after nine minutes. We score after 17 minutes! Russia takes the lead again. With time running out, our guy shoots from the blue line…and we sink the rebound! 2-2! The Russian coach is so pissed he benches his #1 goal keeper, Tretiak. Second period, Russia scores, we don’t. Russia 3, US 2. Fuck. Then, we score twice in the final period. Our goalie stops 32 shots from the frantic Russians, and the US holds on! It’s hard to describe the joy in that (then) tiny mountain town. The Miracle on Ice for everybody in town and the country, along with our own private miracle:Brendan was born exactly seven months later. Dr. Vogelpohl presiding, by the way! And, Doctor Peter is Brendan’s godfather. Of course.