Happy Birthday, Boris!

I have said for many years that since the demise of the Soviet Union, the Olympics, particularly the Winter Games, have just… well… sucked. Whether I had any political or economic disagreement with them, the truth was that the Eastern Bloc, and especially the Russians had incredible Ice Hockey teams. Absolutely incredible.

For a hockey purist, they were amazing to watch. For a jingoistic nationalist, they were fun to beat. When they refused to come out of the locker room to finish the game against the Flyers, I was ecstatic.

And embarrassed. The only way we could beat them was to pound them with our biggest Broad Street bullies. We – the west – had no answer for them in a pure hockey game. Our Canadian born players might be bigger, stronger and meaner, but we did not have the game skills that the Red Army team had.

The Russian leader, Boris Mikhailov, was the best – maybe – of all of them. He certainly was their leader. Odd-looking and smooth as silk with the puck, he led the weave to win after win and Gold after Gold.

Until that night in 1980. When somebody finally understood that the way to beat the Russians was to out Russian them. I know he gets a lot of credit for the win, but I don’t think that Herb Brooks gets enough credit (I know, I know) for what he really did – teach American players to play hockey, not pound and grind.

The ultimate moment of that game wasn’t the Eruzione goal or even the celebration after it. It was the TV shot of Boris Mikhailov standing on the ice, chin on hands on top of his stick, watching the celebration with a look on his face that seemed both surprised and pleased. Surprised that they had finally lost, but kind of pleased that it was a team that played hockey the way it is meant to be played. I think that he knows how much influence he and his teammates had in that seminal change.

Some members of that team would go on to a career in the NHL. That game helped open that bit of detent. A few years later, American fans would cheer Russian players skating for their home teams. Boris was never one of them.

He served his country and in the end, he stayed in the game he loves, coaching and passing on his skills and tradition to his son, who got the chance to play in North America.

The legacy of the Cold War is vast and still being processed. The legacy of Boris Mikhailov is seen every night now, in the amazing skills and play of NHL and Worldwide players.

Happy Birthday to one of the greatest of all time, Boris Mikhailov!