PYEONGCHANG, South Korea — "You should write your article about this," Ted Bourgeois said, as we waited (an excruciatingly long time) for our dinner in a freshly opened Gangneung restaurant.
A mix of families had gathered there for a large dinner after the second game of the tournament. The Butlers were there, sitting with the Gilroys. Many of the wives shared another table with the McCarthy family. Ted, and his brother Tim, might not have qualified as family by dictionary standards, but, to the Butlers, they might as well be. The two grew up in Marlboro, Mass., and had always been close to the Butler family. Both played for Bobby’s father, John, and, when Bobby was named to the U.S. men’s Olympic team, both decided they couldn’t miss this once-in-a-lifetime event. So, here they were sharing a table with the various families by the east coast … of South Korea.
The dinner would have been a happy occasion, regardless, but following the first win by the U.S. in the tournament, the mood was definitely far lighter. In the tournament opener, the Americans had dropped a tough one to Slovenia, that nation’s first-ever win over the United States. The U.S. had controlled play for the first 40 minutes, staking themselves a 2-0 lead, before giving it back in the third. In overtime, Jan Mursak buried a nice cross-ice pass to complete the comeback.
So, the U.S. went into its game against Slovakia, whose men’s team had beaten the U.S. twice in the past year, craving a win, as much for confidence’s sake as for the sake of standings. Having just beaten Russia, Slovakia had made it known that it didn’t intend to be a pushover this tournament. The families settled in for another nailbiter.
It would be just that. The game also would affirm Coach Tony Granato’s assertions. Prior to the tournament, Granato emphasized how important special teams would be. He also insisted that the college players on the roster were not just for show. That became more evident with both Ryan Donato and Troy Terry on the top power-play unit. Chris Bourque was positioned as the quarterback of the American power play. One would not have been criticized if you confused him with his father, Ray. His masterful handling of the blue line helped set up both of the U.S. goals in the game. Both of those goals were scored by Donato, the Harvard star and Scituate, Mass., native.
A former Olympian himself, Ryan’s father, Ted (Dedham, Mass.), said the main piece of advice he gave his son was to be ready for a step up. "I just tried to impress upon him that it was a grown man’s tournament," the elder Donato said. "I just wanted to make sure that he was understanding, even though he had a chance to play in the world junior tournament, that this was, you know, a couple levels up."
Ryan seemed to have taken that advice. Many Bruins fans said he had looked NHL ready in training camp, and he validated that by looking as much a man as any in this Olympic tournament. He was, by consensus, the best American in the tournament, and, one could argue, one of the best players, period, these Winter Games. He might not have brought the extra edge of Beanpot rival Jordan Greenway of Boston University, but Donato looked every bit a power forward driving to the net and using his solid frame to his advantage.
With the doping scandal background tacked on to the typical fervor of American/Russian hockey, the U.S. team’s last opening-round game would be played in front of a raucous crowd. The media kept trying to overplay comparisons to the "Miracle on Ice." That might be a stretch of equitability, but, certainly, the Russians were a favorite. They proved why. The Americans did often look overmatched against the "Red Mach-ine," as Russian fans often chanted throughout the tournament. It was as humbling as the first loss, and set the Americans up for a rematch against the Slovakians in the play-in round of the playoffs.
Naturally, the nerves of the family members and the tension on the ice were only going to increase. As Bobby Butler’s brother, JR, had noted earlier in the tournament, "I haven’t been this nervous about a hockey game since Bobby played in the Calder (Cup)." Undoubtedly, it was a shared sentiment. The U.S. team had struggled to score thus far in the tournament (just four goals in the three games), and, after a scoreless first, it seemed it might, again, keep its fans and families on the edge of their seats. But Donato opened the second with his third straight goal against Slovakia, and the floodgates finally opened for the U.S. Mark Arcobello (Yale) potted his first goal of the tournament. Brian O’Neill (Yale) and Broc Little (Yale) initiated a pretty play finished by Garrett Roe, just as if the two had never left New Haven. Donato would close the scoring to give the U.S. supporters a brief spell of relaxation and send the U.S. on to face the western half of the former Czechoslovakia.
It was a shame the game took place in a sparsely populated arena, for it was one of the most exciting of the tournament. As in the game before, Donato opened the scoring. The goal helped him surpass his father’s Olympic total, not that dad minded. "I couldn’t be more excited that he scored more goals than me in the Olympics, to be honest with you," Coach Donato admitted.
That Ted was actually able to attend that game was "a blessing," he acknowledged. Unfortunately, the Czechs would get the next two before the Americans tied it, shorthanded in the second, on a goal generated by the strong penalty killing of O’Neill. The score would stay that way through overtime.
The one perk to the loosely packed arena was it allowed for plenty of pacing. The Butler family, for one, found it difficult to sit, even the youngest brother, Alec, who still made the trip despite breaking his ankle just hours before his transglobal flight. As they tried to guess who would be getting the chances to shoot, they were glad to see Bourque open the session for the Americans. Canadian coach Marc Crawford often has been criticized for tabbing Chris’ father, Ray, in the 1998 Olympic shootout (as if one could make a bad pick with that team), but few would question sending Chris out. With his smooth hands, one certainly had to feel good about his chances. Donato as the second pick was pretty much a no-brainer. Arcobello followed, while the last of that line, Terry, who gained infamy with his shootout antics in the 2017 world juniors, took the fourth slot. None of the four were able to beat the scarily composed Pavel Francouz.
Thus, it all came down to Butler. Alec had the feeling he would see his older brother get a shot. He had noticed Bobby kind of fidgeting on the bench, and figured it must have been because the coach had included him in the lineup. With 21 goals in the AHL, Butler certainly knows how to finish, and now he had the chance to give the U.S. another breath of life.
The fate of this Olympic team came down to a moment most hockey players would dream of. The puck on your stick with a chance to be a hero. Granted, any goal would only have added another round to the shootout, but it still would have been remembered, if the U.S. had come away with the win. The shootout has more or less become accepted in the NHL regular season. It can grab you an extra point in the standings, but losing there will still net you a point. In the elimination round of the Olympics, it’s a whole other animal.
After he missed, Butler glided all the way down the ice. All the way to his own net. He raised his stick for a second, looking prepared to batter his crossbar, but he somehow found the restraint to refrain. He joined his teammates, four of whom had met a similarly frustrating fate, and lined up to shake the hands of the opposition. A step away from giving themselves a chance at a medal, the Americans skated off, soon to start making their ways back to whatever corner of the world they now call home.
Before they did, though, they got a sort of homecoming. The families gathered on the concourse where the players could come up to greet them. Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, wives, children and even just friends applauded as each one made their way through the doors. They are loved ones who, in many cases, hadn’t seen their beloved, in person, for months. They are loved ones who maybe hadn’t seen their beloved play hockey, in person, for years. It’s an easy fact to forget. Gilroy’s mom reflected a bit on it, noting how she used to be among the cadre huddling around a warm coffee in the freezing rinks. For most of these players, the postgame regimen no longer includes awaiting families or friends. They are often thousands of miles and many time zones away. The players probably file past a few eager fans, some of whom probably possess broken English, at best, and onto a bus. Rarely are there kisses or hugs awaiting them.
As they mingled with their families, you could see how valuable that presence was. Some players were able to laugh, their loved ones trying their best to boost their spirits. Naturally, some fought back the frowns and tears, others succumbed to them. Yet, without a doubt, the fact that they were surrounded by the ones they love in one of the most crushing moments of their hockey careers was a source of unexplainable comfort.
I asked Ted if the trip was still worth it. After all, he just flew halfway around the world, and, unfortunately, it ended two games earlier than he had hoped. Without hesitation he said yes.
It can be easy to be cynical about the Olympics. It also can be easy to be cynical about the corny themes of sacrifice, elation, devastation, etc. Commentators often want to talk about how it brings the world together, but, more importantly, it brings families together.
Less than a week after watching his son shine on a major stage, Ted Donato was back to demanding excellence out of him as the Harvard Crimson took on Brown and Yale. On the opposite bench, in that second tilt, Keith Allain (Worcester, Mass.) now had to find a way to stop a player who had just been nearly unstoppable for him in Korea (and he did). Those two, as well as all the other members of that team, will forever be united by two weeks.
Whether they cross paths on a KHL rink or an AHL rink, on a golf course, or even watching their kids one day playing on the same team, as the nearly anonymous Ray Bourque and Ted Donato did, they will always have that connection. Their family is a little bigger. It might not be a medal, but that’s still one heck of a prize.
