A/N: Argh! 92? I'm dying, I'm dying...I'm dead X-l
Saturniia: Just for you I changed the last chapter from rollerblades to the cow tipping incident :-)
Jimmy was sitting in the goal out on the ice with his mask up, breathing deeply in preparation for the third period. Herb called all the boys in before the face off, to the echoing chant of "USA!"
We call them cool
Those hearts that have no scars to show
The ones that never do let go
And risk the tables being turned.
"Listen to them," Herb urged them all. "That's what you've done—we can beat these guys. We've come from behind in every game so far and we can do it again."
"Herb, get your boys out on the ice," the ref ordered.
"Wait a minute, wait a minute," Nikki urged jumping over the boards.
"Nikki you can't do that," Coach ordered her.
"Come on, come here, huddle up. We used to do this before dance competitions." She pulled the boys into a big huddle and started jumping up and down. Lola was jumping up and down on the bench excited the crowd as Nikki and the boys were screaming "USA! USA! USA!" at the top of their lungs.
We call them fools
Who have to dance within the flame
Who chance the sorrow and the shame
That always comes with getting burned.
But you've got to be tough when consumed by desire
'Cause it's not enough just to stand outside the fire
"Louder," Nikki ordered. "Who do you play for?"
"USA!" Was the euonymus answer before the boys skated out to their positions on the ice.
Johnson was facing off with Mikhailov. Mark looked the big scary Russian dead in the eye and gave it to him straight right there: "I am going to kick your butt." Kick his but he did, Johnson won the face off and sent the puck out to Ramsey.
We call them strong
Those who can face this world alone
Who seem to get by on their own
Those who will never take the fall.
Ramsey passed back to him, and he took the first shot, but it was deflected by Myshkin. The goalie sent the puck out to Kasatonov, who passed to Kharlamov, who passed to Mikhailov, who shot on the USA goal.
"Thatta way Jimmy," Mark Johnson called enthusiastically.
We call them weak
Who are unable to resist
The slightest chance love might exist
And for that forsake it all.
They're so hell-bent on giving; walking a wire
Convinced it's not living if you stand outside the fire.
Jimmy successfully deflected that shot and three more before the puck went out to Christian. Kasatonov was penalized for slashing, which gave the US a two minute power play. Herb sent the Coneheads out.
"There we go Buzzy," Rizzo encouraged.
Standing outside the fire
Standing outside the fire
Life is not tried, it is merely survived
If you're standing outside the fire.
OC had the puck sent it up to Bah inside the Soviet blue line. Bah sent it to Rammer, who passed over to Buzz. Buzzy took a shot that was blocked by Myshkin. Bylialetdinov cleared the zone. Johnson picked up the puck in the neutral zone and passed over to OC.
OC took a shot that was saved by Myshkin. The Soviets, wrapped the puck around the boards to clear the defense zone.
"16 second! 16 seconds," Jimmy called out onto the ice. Noting the time left for the penalty.
There's this love that is burning
Deep in my soul
Constantly yearning to get out of control
Wanting to fly higher and higher
I can't abide
Standing outside the fire.
"Johnson go!" Herb ordered. Johnson jumped over the boards and went streaking down the ice. Silky was heading down the center of the ice with the puck.
"Silky, Silky, I'm with you," he called over to his teammate. Silk passed over to him before being sandwiched by two burly Russians. Johnson was headed up the center with the puck, found a shot...and scored.
Standing outside the fire
Standing outside the fire
Life is not tried, it is merely survived
If you're standing outside the fire.
The boys were going nuts; the game was tied at three with about 15 minutes left in the third period. They were actually doing it. They were actually out skating the Soviet team, this late in the game it was amazing, and obviously cause for celebration, however:
"It's just one goal," Coach Brooks reminded them solemnly as the boys came back to the bench, but Nikki couldn't suppress a laugh looking over and seeing how incredibly irked the Russian coach was...(A/N: I'm sorry, but for the life of me, I couldn't figure out how to spell his name,)
'And is he stroking his eyebrow...' she pondered shamelessly to herself. 'Okay now that was just a little creepy. Mmm Hmm, scary, scary man.'
This time the face of was controlled by the Russians, in seconds Kasatonov went in for a shot, it went wide. Makarov picked up the rebound for a second shot, that Jimmy caught in his glove. Bah came around the net with it.
"Rizzo go," Coach sent Rizzo out on the ice as Bah passed over to Buzzy. Buzzy sent it up to Pav.
"Pav, Pav," Rizzo called for the puck. Pav sent the puck over, and Rizzo took a shot at the goal...and scored.
One word: chaos. They were ahead. Nikki stood with her hand pressed over her mouth in compete shock, before she started screaming. Rizzo was running up the boards triumphantly, when the rest of the team sort of took him out.
Coming back to the bench the boys were still hyped up, and let loose random: Woo Hoo's and so forth.
"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!" Nikki declared exuberantly, jumping up on Rizzo, sending them both flying into the Plexiglas. "We're winning! I love you," she planted a big wet kiss on his face, overdramatically. Quite frankly Herb didn't care what she did right now, as long as the score stayed where it was.
"Hey how come I didn't get a kiss?" Buzzy moaned in complaint.
"I'm sorry, Buzzy," she cooed mischievously, coming up beside him. "Let me fix that." She grabbed his chin and licked his face.
"Hey," he started, wiping his face frantically. "Gross. I'm already all soaked is sweat, you had to lick me too?" She nodded. Buzzy looked craftily over to Johnson. "He scored twice," he said pointing accusingly.
"Oh he did, did he," Nikki went on, eyeing him.
"Coach!" Mark yelled hurriedly.
"Shut up," Herb ordered indignantly watching the game progress.
Petrov passed to Maltseve, he took a shot, Jimmy made the save with his stick.
"Atta boy Jimmy," the team encouraged, banging on the boards. Kasatov took a second shot that went wide of the goal. There came another shot from Petrov that Jimmy knocked away. The rebound went out to Mac who cleared it.
"Short shifts," Brooks yelled down the line of players. "Thirty to forty seconds. Doc, watch the time." Nikki could feel her stomach doing flip flops as Jimmy made a sliding save. If they didn't get the puck out of there soon she was going to be sick.
"Switch," Coach ordered.
"Get it out," Mac called over to the defense as Morrow finally managed to clear it. Nikki looked up at the clock. Five minutes, and Mikhailov was plowing up the center, and took a powerful slap shot. Jimmy knocked it away.
Lola whooped in appreciation. "There we go Jimmy, atta way!" She called enthusiastically. Nikki gave her a proud smile.
Rammer passed over to Pav, who was checked into the boards. Kharlamov picked it up and passed to Petrov who drove straight up to the goal, but that was stopped by Jimmy.
"Play your game," Brooks encouraged. "Play your game."
It was a loose puck, Buzzy was fighting for it with Krutov at the point. He kicked it loose to Mac.
"Chip it out," Coach Patrick yelled. Mac took it out to the neutral zone, as Coach called for another switch. Now Mac was scrambling for it, and Rammer got a huge hit. Nikki looked up at a clock reading 2:17. This would end in glory or devastation; there was no middle ground for things like this.
Kharlamov sent a pass over to Petrov. Petrov tried a shot, but Jimmy made the save. The rebound went out to Maltseve, and then came another save. Goony, scary, Russian coach (once again he shall not be named,) was shouting out onto the ice, but nothing was happening.
"They're not pulling Myshkin," Coach Pat noticed.
"They don't know what to do," Herb laughed. Even now they were driving the goal hard, every time Jimmy would go to make a spectacular save, both Nikki and Lola found themselves catching their breath in their throat.
Time was still winding down, now the Russian team was on their feet, shouting out to the ice, finally loosing that "take no prisoners" composure they were so famous for up until now, a minute and eighteen seconds left in the game.
More shots were fired, but Jimmy was...well...he was just plain on fire at this point, and no one was more proud than his father cheering him on up in the stands. Eleven seconds to go and the countdown began.
"Ten, Nine—" Nikki swallowed hard, trying to calm her pounding heart.
"Eight, Seven—" She reached out and felt a hand take hers.
"Six, Five—" She looked over to find that she and Lola had reached for each other at the same time.
"Four, Three—" Nikki closed her eyes and said a silent prayer: 'Please God. Let the team hang in there for...'
"Two—" Now the buzzed sounded in her ear, the most welcome sound in the world. The scoreboard read USSR 3 USA 4.
The crowd erupted in ecstatic cheers. The team stormed the ice to share in the excitement. Coach Patrick was out there and wound up giving Mark Johnson a big hug and swinging the hockey player around off his feet.
Team USSR looked on in utter astonishment. They had lost, that didn't happen, it just didn't happen. It was an unspoken rule that Soviet teams, Soviet athletes did not lose. It was like one of the signs of the apocalypse...or a miracle.
The coach slipped out quietly as random civilians stormed through security and made their way out to the ice. Photographers were everywhere.
Lola rushed out to the ice and into Jack's arms, where she was content to stay for the majority of the celebration. Nikki on the other hand was running around handing out hugs and kisses and shouts of ecstasy.
She came up to Jimmy, who had a flag draped over his shoulders, and found him with this blonde girl pointing up to his father in the stands.
"Jimmy," she started cautiously. "Who is this?"
"This is...um," he started, "My girlfriend, Lindy." 'Oh God, please, if there is a God,' Jimmy pleaded silently. 'Let Nikki not be horny today. Not in front of my girlfriend.'
"Hi I'm Nikki," she started chipperly, shaking the girl's hand. "Nice to meet you, have you seen Rizzo?" Jimmy pointed in a total state of shock. 'Thank You!'
Nikki found Rizzo at the other end of the ice, sort of sunk back in the corner with a few of the other guys, and wrapped her arms around him. As he rocked her back and forth easily, she rested her head on his chest.
"You did it," she said beaming proudly.
"Not with out you," he answered.
"Don't be so cliché," she warned. "It doesn't become you at all."
Herb's POV:
Two days later the miracle was made complete. My boys defeated Finland to win the gold medal, coming from behind once again. As I watched them out there, celebrating on the ice, I realized that Patti had been right. It was a lot more than a hockey game. Not only for those who watched it, but for those who played in it.
I've often been asked in the years since Lake Placid what was the best moment for me. Well, it was here - the sight of 20 young men of such differing backgrounds now standing as one. Young men willing to sacrifice so much of themselves all for an unknown. I still have a picture in my head, of Nikki rushing up to the platform after them, and Rizzo lifting her off her feet. She kissed him there, in front of everyone. That really cleared up a lot of things for me.
A few years later, the U.S. began using professional athletes at the Games - Dream Teams. I always found that term ironic because now that we have Dream Teams, we seldom ever get to dream. But on one weekend, as America and the world watched, a group of remarkable young men gave the nation what it needed most - a chance, for one night, not only to dream, but a chance, once again, to believe.
Is that it? Is it over. I think not...I was going to add a charity ball type thing onto the end as a lead in for number two. Is that okay with everyone. Now be a good reader and hit the little blue button.