Another Miracle on Ice?

So it has come down to USA and Canada in the hockey final in the Vancouver Winter Olympics! This is the dream match everyone (in North America at least) was hoping for. That the young Team USA beat Canada 5-3 in their pool match last Sunday is a distant memory. That loss actually gives Team Canada the advantage because the players are motivated to avenge their earlier defeat in front of a delirious home crowd. They have, well, a score to settle.

Certainly in the individual talent department, the Canadians leave their US counterparts in the dust. But one of the major lessons in team sports is that a less-talented team with more cohesion often beats the team with superior talent but less cohesion.

Canada has probably overcome the lack of cohesion by thrashing the mighty Russians and beating Slovakia, although their superstar Sidney Crosby is yet to show his magic. The question is: Can Team USA pull it off again? Because if they do, it will be another Miracle On Ice. It may not have the fire of the 1980 Lake Placid Miracle against the Red Machine in the subtext of the Cold War. Still, it will be big.

The two teams will undoubtedly play their hearts out and fans will talk about it for years to come. My head says Canada will win but my heart is with Team USA. That I am an American has nothing to do with it. It's just that I have a weakness for miracles. And lately there have been far too few miracles to grace our lives. Go USA!

Gold Goes to the Best Figure Skater

Even before he stepped onto the ice, Russia's defending Olympic champion let it be known through his swagger that the gold was his. The rest of the world could compete for the silver. Evgeni Plushenko was that confident.

At least one skater didn't think so. America's Evan Lysacek was confident of his artistry and athletic excellence as well and decided that, instead of verbal jousting with Evgeni, he will let his skates do the talking. And did they ever!

In the short program, Lysacek fell behind Plushenko by a huge margin. Just kidding. It was by a mere 0.55 points, the perfect place for Lysacek to be, since the pressure intensified on Plushenko to deliver.

Then came the long program two nights later. All year long, Plushenko had been chattering about how his quadruple jump would separate him from the boys. The quad would dazzle the judges and beget him the gold for sure.

Lysacek refused Plushenko's bait. There was enough fire and ice in his routine to render the quad irrelevant. He chose not to play by Plushenko's rule. And, as Robert Frost would say, that made all the difference.

Lysacek was flawless in execution. He was imaginative and daring. The poetry just flowed from him and viewers knew they were watching someone special. Plushenko was not as smooth. At times he even seemed to be going through the motions. His did score more with his quad toe loop–triple toe loop combination but all three of Lysacek's spin sequences were rated level 4 - the highest level of difficulty. Only two of Plushenko’s were level 4. Over all three spins, Lysacek outscored Plushenko by 1.26 points. When Plushenko fell 0.9 points farther behind in his step sequences, Lysacek’s overall margin of victory increased to a whopping (relatively speaking) 1.31.

The audience in the Pacific Coliseum agreed with the judges and roared their approval. Not so the prima donna Plushenko. At the award ceremony he was boorish. Clearly he felt that the judges were not perceptive or wise or smart enough to crown him the king.

"I was positive that I won," he said at the post-event press conference. He continued: "But I suppose Evan needs the medal more than I do. Maybe it's because I already have one. I have to share with you -- two silver and one Olympic gold -- that's not too bad."

What a sore and ungracious loser! Perhaps when the Vancouver Winter Olympics comes to be remembered more for Lysacek's stellar performance than any other athlete's, Plushenko will accept reality and redeem himself with some expression of humility.

America has found a winner in Lysacek on and off the ice. We can expect another gold from him in the 2014 Games in Sochi, Russia. I wonder if Plushenko will be in the audience.

Opening Ceremony of the Vancouver Winter Olympics

The opening ceremony of the 2010 Vancouver Winter Olympics was majestic and moving. It was so because Canada chose to be herself, instead of trying to emulate or outdo other opening ceremonies, particularly Beijing’s 2008 show-of-shows.

For me, the opening ceremony evoked memories of the two years I spent in Halifax, Nova Scotia, in the early ‘70s. I had gone to Canada from the newly-independent nation of Bangladesh to study at Dalhousie University on a scholarship. Those were two of the happiest years of my life. So I was particularly thrilled when Sarah McLachlan, Halifax’s own, sang in her lovely lyrical voice words that summed up the Olympic spirit: “When you wake up everyday/Please don’t throw your dreams away.”

Donald Sutherland’s recitation of prose and poetry by Canada’s famous writers provided just the right touch to the story of that vast and varied land. On the stage, aboriginal Canadians (First Nations, Inuit and Métis) and actors enacted how the country was settled, from the Maritime Provinces all the way west to cosmopolitan Vancouver.

Delegations from 82 nations made their colorful entries into the indoor arena. The death of a Georgian luge athlete at a practice run cast a pall of gloom over the ceremony but the Olympic spirit demanded that the show go on. The Georgian delegation received a standing ovation. It was courageous and poignant at the same time.

The most touching moment came for me when eight of Canada’s legends drawn from various fields carried a huge Olympic flag. It included Sutherland, of course, but also Anne Murray. In Halifax, the first Western singer I came to admire was Nova Scotia’s Anne Murray. Her songs (Songbird, Danny’s song) were all the rage in Canada at the time and I listened to them an endless number of times. She had passed the torch to singers like Sarah McLachlan, a continuity memorably captured in the pageantry.

The most thrilling moment for me was when the camera zoomed in on the hockey legend Bobby Orr. He was the reason I became an ardent ice hockey, and Boston Bruins, fan. When I moved to Philadelphia from Halifax to pursue a doctorate degree at Temple University, Orr remained my favorite player. I was probably the only fan in Philadelphia rooting for the Bruins when the Flyers played the team in 1974 in the Stanley Cup finals. When Booby Clarke and the Flyers won the Stanley Cup, I was devastated because I knew how much Orr wanted to win.

Well, after more than three decades, here was Orr, one of the legendary eight, and suddenly I became aware of the passage of time more vividly than ever before in my life. Orr was white-haired. He had put on weight. I am sure his reflexes had slowed. What did I expect? This is what time does to each of us.

It was at this point that the Vancouver Winter Olympics became profoundly human for me. The mishap with the Olympic cauldron only made it more so. Of all the Olympic opening ceremonies – summer and winter – this was the most poignant, intimate, evocative and inspiring that I have ever seen. Thank you, O Canada, and win tons of gold!