The date is Feb. 15, 1998. The day before, Team USA had shocked Team Canada in the round-robin finale at the Nagano Winter Olympics by scoring six consecutive goals to close out a 7-4 statement win. But instead of enjoying the spoils of victory, Sandra Whyte (Saugus, Mass.) was enveloped in controversy.
Some trash-talking with Team Canada’s Danielle Goyette in the handshake line had mushroomed into an accusation that Whyte had spoken disparaging remarks about Goyette’s father, who had passed away shortly before The Games.
Despite a collapse on this ice, Team Canada had the Americans on the defensive in the days leading up to their gold-medal showdown.
Coincidentally, Team USA had just flown in team psychologist Peter Haberl to prep the team before the upcoming gold-medal game two days later. Haberl would find himself tending to a crisis immediately upon his arrival in Japan.
By the time Haberl boarded his train to Nagano, Team Canada’s incendiary comments had fanned the flames into a four-alarm blaze, threatening to turn all of Team USA’s hard-earned confidence and concentration into ashes. Sandra Whyte was receiving a barrage of hate mail and death threats at the normally cozy Surf Shack internet cafe. With just two days until the gold-medal game, Whyte needed her head adjusted, ASAP. Enter Peter Haberl.
“He walked into the Village cafeteria, where the team was having breakfast,” said USA Hockey Executive Director Dave Ogrean. “They didn’t know he was coming. It was mayhem: hugging, tears, joy, all this stuff.”
Whyte was not in the cafeteria, however, choosing to snack in her dorm room while seeking refuge. Haberl was briefed as soon as he was shuttled into the Athlete’s Village. “It was really nice to see the joy that they experienced seeing my face,” said Haberl. “It felt really good.”
Haberl’s enthusiasm was tempered after meeting with Ben Smith. The psychologist had crucial work in front of him: Whyte would be meeting the press after that morning’s practice, one that had the makings of a feeding frenzy. Every reporter from New York to Vancouver would be getting a crack at her, seeking to extend the life of this sensational story of trash-talking gone sideways. Whyte needed her head in a good place if she were to survive the ordeal.
“Ben took me up into one of the rooms,” said Haberl, “and I got to meet Sandra there.” Whyte’s eyes were red-rimmed, but they brightened at the sight of Haberl. “Oh my God, he was sent here just for me!” said Whyte, recalling her immediate reaction that morning in the Athletes Village. “I remember being really upset, and sort of being in tears about it. I can’t imagine who else I would have allowed in…I was really grateful.”
Whyte did not have time just then for a session with Peter, she had a practice and a press conference to contend with. But she was incredibly relieved to see her confidante. They agreed to visit between practice and presser, but that window would be very tight. Although Whyte would be facing the music alone, she was buoyed by the knowledge that Haberl was there to pick up the pieces if she cracked.
The media throng at Big Hat that morning paralleled one typical of the Stanley Cup Finals. Anticipation of the USA-Canada women’s gold medal game had reached fever pitch, capturing the imagination of both hockey nations. Since the American and Canadian men’s teams were both underachieving, this women’s showdown was reaching blockbuster status. Add a raging controversy, and L’ Affaire de Goyette vaulted women’s hockey above the men on the media food chain. Even non-hockey writers crowded into the mixed zone hoping to gather quotes from Whyte, the unlikeliest lightning rod imaginable.
Once Team USA wrapped up practice, Smith walked into the mixed zone to say his piece. Equipment manger Bob Webster and a team assistant swapped credentials to get Haberl into Big Hat, allowing him to connect with Whyte. They didn’t have time to speak in any meaningful way, but Haberl’s mere presence provided Whyte with an emotional safe harbor. After Smith completed his thoughts, it was time for the main act. Whyte looked at the mass of reporters, and exhaled.
“It was a big group of media, so I have no idea who was asking questions,” said Whyte, who faced all varieties of the same question: How had her trash-talking in the handshake line erupted into an international incident? On the defensive, she denied the accusation of disparaging Goyette’s deceased father, but admitted to trash-talking in response to a late-game slash from Goyette. Then the Harvard grad proceeded to question the interrogators.
“This is ridiculous, would you be asking a man these same questions?” asked Whyte. For the normally shy Whyte to chastise a media scrum of this size was as likely as Wayne Gretzky streaking naked across the ice. “I don’t say that because we think like men, or want to be men, but it is the sport of hockey. Am I saying women should do that [trash-talk]? No. Do women do that? Yes.”
Her theme, that there shouldn’t be a double-standard for trash-talking, no matter how unseemly, was indisputable.
Then she was asked why anyone would accuse her of such a remark to Goyette, and the Ivy Leaguer with the Boston accent managed to flip the script, suggesting that the Goyette accusation was “a psychological tactic” from the other side. Now all the newspapers in Toronto, French Canada and Boston had new material with which to tee up the gold-medal showdown.
Haberl was proud of his subject. He would meet with Whyte after having lunch with roommates Gretchen Ulion and Sarah Tueting. Haberl had spent the last two seasons working with Whyte on occasion, forging a relationship ideal for the task at hand. “It helps to have a connection, a sense of trust,” said Haberl, who diagnosed the scenario as “intentional chaos” sewn by Team Canada.
“Basically, there was a strategy to get inside a player’s head,” said Haberl. “In my territory as a sports psychologist, maybe we can diffuse that, allow that player to not get trapped in that setup.”
There were no Team USA players more level-headed than Whyte, but she clearly needed Haberl’s guidance after a full day of absorbing the wrath of Canada’s online hockey trolls. “I didn’t spend hours and hours talking to him, we just sat down and had a conversation,” Whyte said. “He just told me to put everything in perspective, to see what was really happening.”
Haberl mentioned more extreme examples to drive home the point, comparing her misfortune to a neighbor dying of cancer. “It was just one of those moments. I needed to have a readjustment, and focus on what we were there to do as a team.”
After the meeting, Whyte made a point of bypassing the now toxic Surf Shack. She had more than a day to process her conversation with Haberl, and was already feeling a great weight lifting. The gold-medal game would be the last competitive contest of Whyte’s remarkable career. Few could have possibly imagined what kind of farewell act was in store from this willowy introvert.
Excerpted from “A Miracle of Their Own: A team, a stunning gold medal and newfound dreams for American girls” by Keith Gave and Tim Rappleye, available now on Amazon.
