And as great as he was a coach, he wasn’t a very good student. He had a philosophy of the game that wouldn’t change, under any circumstances. He wouldn’t take the time to talk to players.

What followed was four years of stormy, frenetic, loving friendship that reflected, I suspect, two personalities so similar there was little chance of success. “Coach Brooks.” They all came up and called him “Coach Brooks”. Not Magnificent Mario, not Batman, but rather “Coach Brooks”. Sitting in a lounge, our group was deluged with fans asking for autographs of just one person. It was Michael Keaton, fresh off of shooting Batman. The magnitude of the Miracle on Ice came into full scope for me, one night after a Pittsburgh-Los Angeles game at the Great Western Forum.įollowing the game, Herb and I had the opportunity to share a beverage with Paul Steigerwald, Mario Lemieux and a friend of No. In my world, that meant Herb was the player, and I was the coach. He was the announcer, I was the producer. I had met Herb a few times through the 1980s, but we began working working together in ’89. Or should I say proudly, my friend Herb Brooks. And he will always have doors opened for him in the United States.Īs will Herb Brooks. Mike Eruzione, was, is, and will always be a hockey hero. America’s answer to Henderson’s goal in the 1972 Summit Series. Eruzione is forever etched as the man who scored the biggest goal in U.S. “John, this is Boston, I scored the goal against the Soviets….and I’m Mike Eruzione!” “Mike, what the hell are you doing in my room?” Checking in to my hotel, and getting to my room, I opened the door, only to be greeted by Eruzione sitting in the corner chair watching TV. We hired Eruzione, a Boston boy, as a broadcaster to work on the game, in the booth with Dan Kelly. A game was to be played in Boston, at the Garden. Not long after the Olympics, I was producing NHL games for our American partner, USA Network. Two in particular: the captain and the coach.

I also reflected on the people I met and knew on that team. I couldn’t help reflect today on the game, and then the game against Finland on Sunday that gave the Americans the gold medal. I was in Winnipeg, preparing to produce a Jets-Maple Leafs game on Saturday night. It was seen live in Canada, and tape delayed in the United States. It was that victory on that Friday night in little Lake Placid that changed so much.

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