Canada's Game: Women's Edition

On a golden relay those fortunate to have seen Olympic curling history marched en masse to the next arena over in high spirits for a similar performance from their hockey compatriots.

The building was alive as the centuries old rivalry continued, both on the ice and in the stands. Every time a faction would start a cheer the opposing contingent would attempt to drown it out. Flags waved, hands clapped, voices were screamed hoarse. Undisciplined play from the defending Olympic champions put them behind the 8 ball, to mix sport references, but their goaltender kept them in it time and again. The smaller but vocal American fan group had the first celebration and after the second, due to more power play trouble, the sizable Canadians were noticeably quieted. Not silenced, but nervousness had sunk in.  You could see it on the tense faces of those donning red and white during the second intermission, while the red, white, and blue were respectfully hopeful.

The third saw a strong effort from the Canadian squad go unrewarded time and again and I worried that it would begin to get inside their heads, which at 2-0 would mean game over. Short outbursts from the crowd were not nearly as spirited as earlier in the game - it's tough to holler with your stomach in a knot. From my seat I annoyed most of the Russians near me with my incessant encouragement. Finally with under 4 minutes remaining there was the breakthrough goal. There's life in these ladies yet!

With the goaltender out early I tracked the potentially controversial game-ending goal (outta the way ref!) and knew it would hit the post allowing Canada another opportunity. That's all they would need as the sea of maple leaves lost it, leaping up and down and rejoicing. Such an epic comeback but it wasn't over yet.

Reserved optimism held as people now believed that it was possible and one way or another it would be over soon. An overtime penalty kill is horrifying to watch so there was a huge sigh as it lasted merely five seconds, even if it was more of a light tap than a slash. Finally on the power play the puck was fired to the back of the net and all kinds of pent up excitement unleashed. Pure elation! The storybook script had a fairy tale ending and our ragged voices whooped some more as the golden medals were hung around the very deserving necks.