A nation on the edge of their seats. A series tied with one game to go.
Team Canada knew now that Canadians were behind them. The strong negativity, expressed profoundly in Vancouver, had melted like ice in a spring thaw, and the players no longer felt that they could play only for themselves because they hadn’t lived up to early expectations.
They knew from the telegrams and post cards and support reaching them in Moscow from sea to shining sea, that we were proud of them and were readying to watch and cheer from where we could. Televisions in schools and offices were being set up and plugged in, the final game would be seen through store windows and in living rooms, restaurants and bars, from Tofino to St. John’s.
For me in Sudbury, it became one last time to trade shifts with a fellow bartender, and I was alone and ready, hoping that my pathetic little black and white televison would hold up for one more day.
And while two nations prepared, there was one huge piece of unfinished business – who would be the two referees to work this historic game? No one could agree.