Author's note: I must admit that I have a penchant for the same idea that other writers have conveyed so far: Herb Brook's daughter tags along with the U.S. team and falls in love with one of the players. How else would you incorporate romance into this movie fanfic! Okay, so there have been other creative romantic entanglements in other fics. However, this whole fanfic is more focused on the strained father-daughter relationship, and is also an introspective examination of their characters as the journey progresses. Plenty of drama, and yes…there will some romance.
PROLOGUE
The bleak rain-soaked images of St. Paul slowly came into focus as Jo Evans awoke from her slumber. The weather indeed was not particularly encouraging or appealing to her semi-conscious state. The temptation to drift back into sleep, however, was tempered by the loud monotonous hum of the engine on pavement.
"Slept well, huh?" asked the cab driver. He chuckled as his sleepy passenger only replied with an unintelligible moan.
"Look like you needed it," he commented good-naturedly. "Don't blame you though. Cabs seats are usually more comfortable than plane seats."
"How long have I been out?" Jo asked as she stifled a yawn and struggled to sit up.
"About forty-five minutes. Just in time too. The U ought to be around the corner twenty minutes from here."
Jo blinked confusedly. "The U?"
"University of Minnesota," he clarified. "Best damn hockey team in my mind."
The cab driver examined his passenger more closely through the overhead mirror. "You must be out-of-state, huh?" he surmised. "A New-Englander, judging from your accent."
"New York born and raised," Jo replied and grinned.
The cab driver laughed. "Anywhere's fine with me. It might be best to keep it to yourself though if you're from Massachusetts. Well, if you're from Boston really."
"Any particular reason?"
"There's many, actually, but it mainly comes down to hockey," he explained. "Minnesota's been rivals with Boston University's Terriers for a long time. Course, it got pretty ugly in 76' national playoffs, with all the broken bones and egos you can imagine. The U managed to win in the end, but that coach of theirs though – the driver whistled – really something, that man. Some of his players still call him 'Satan of Ice.'"
"You don't say," said Jo dryly. She stretched momentarily before adding, "Makes him sound real personal, doesn't it?"
The driver only shrugged. "Just what I heard," he defended lightly. "I don't personally know the man. Then again, maybe it doesn't make much of a difference to many. Or at least not with three championship titles under his belt. Maybe those who know him more personally might give different opinions."
Jo offered no reply as he made his last statement a little too casually. Her rigid posture and avoiding eyes, however, provided him enough cues of some familiarity with the man (bitter familiarity, on more careful observation). The uncomfortable silence that followed did more than enough to dissuade him from pursuing the matter. The driver shrugged and quickly returned his eyes from the overhead mirror to the road.
"It's gonna be a hell of a time for that U.S. team he's coaching," he continued. "Best of luck to him in dealing with those damn Soviets. Well, … if his team ever makes it that far."
"Our professional players could barely skate by the third period a few months ago, and he wants to have these college kids face the Reds head on," the driver shook his head incredulously.
"Really something, that coach," he repeated, with some hint of admiration.
Jo smiled tautly. "You have no idea," she muttered and slouched back.