He Deserves a Tin Medal

They sometimes refer to tough hockey players as “goons.” Well, America’s Olympic hockey players aren’t goons. They are tough. They use muscle and hustle to make up for what they are lacking in skill. Goons are big, dumb oafs who don’t know any better. That’s not our Olympians.

It’s their coach who is the goon.

His name is Dave Peterson and, once again, as in 1988, there must be some way we can pull for the United States without pulling for this pompous jackass.

Come back, 1980 Coach Herb Brooks, wherever you are.

The shame of Monday night’s 3-3 tie with Sweden for the undefeated U.S. hockey team was not in squandering a three-goal lead in the third period. On the contrary, the Americans gave it everything they had, from the puddle of blood left by Greg Brown’s skull to the sweat that cascaded behind Ray LeBlanc’s mask as this adroit little goaltender turned aside shot after shot.

No, the shame of this game was the boorish behavior of Peterson, Mr. Diplomacy himself, who might be the one man on seven continents who could provoke Sweden into a war.

Not only did Peterson refuse to shake the hand of the Swedish coach, Conny Evensson, after the game--Evensson said no coach has ever snubbed him that way--but he compounded the insult 10 minutes later when Sweden assistant coach Curt Lundmark offered his hand in front of a room full of onlookers.

“I think it is horrible,” Lundmark said. “I think it is very bad for the sport. Very, very bad for the sport.”

Lundmark also said Peterson shouted insults at the Sweden bench between periods of the game that he preferred not to repeat, saying: “I do not think you can translate all of them.” When asked if they were curses, Lundmark replied: “You ask good questions.”

Several witnesses also saw Peterson pursue one of the game’s officials, linesman Jay Carman from Canada, into the tunnel leading toward the dressing rooms after the game, yelling: “How can you be so . . . and still be working?”

There are sports lovers in the world, particularly in America, who like their coaches fiery and feisty. Bobby Knight, the Indiana basketball coach, certainly has been known to go ballistic now and then, and often go too far.

But Peterson, I know Bobby Knight, and let me tell you, are no Bobby Knight.

No expertise he happens to have when it comes to coaching hockey--and we are not talking Toe Blake here, believe me--entitles him to come to the Olympic Games and act this way. You don’t see coaches from other countries doing this sort of thing. What is it that always makes us the sourpusses of international sports?

“This isn’t war, guys,” Lundmark said, shaking his head. “This isn’t war.”

He took a deep breath.

“But almost, yes?”

Peterson’s team has been playing so well. Yes, some Americans got a bit carried away with the first week of action here, dragging out that played-out “miracle” thing from 1980 again, simply because Team USA defeated four consecutive opponents. The fact that at least three of these opponents were expected to lose to the United States apparently meant very little.

But OK. A little optimism is a healthy thing. So we got a little excited, so what? It was difficult not to be impressed with Peterson’s players, even if they weren’t exactly ice-dancers out there. Some of these characters, Clark Donatelli and Scott Lachance and Moe Mantha, for example, never met an opponent they couldn’t sucker punch or spear.

But they were doing what worked for them, and even the Swedes admired their effort and defense, if not their stickhandling, Lundmark saying: “They can even win this tournament.”

And then there was LeBlanc. He was turning into the new Jim Craig, gloving everything that came his way, just as Craig did a dozen years ago at Lake Placid, N.Y.

LeBlanc is a little New Englander and lifer minor leaguer with a carefree attitude and one of the great surnames ever given a goalie.

“What’s so good about it?” he countered. “LeBlanc. The white?”

Stop being so literal, Ray, boy. All those shutouts. LeBlank ? Get it?

“Oh,” he said, brightening, as if never having even considered this before. “Oh, yeah!”

LeBlanc played splendidly here Monday. The tie wasn’t his fault. He and his teammates had one poor period of hockey against an excellent team. They accepted this by shaking the hands of their worthy adversaries and patting them on the helmets and backs.

Where, you ask, was their coach?

You ask good questions.