U.S. Hockey Outburst Is Having to Say You’re Sorry

The first taxicab I hailed in Nagano was spotless inside and out. The driver wore a white shirt, a tie and white gloves, which I later learned was the Japanese standard of dress for people in his profession. With only the slightest pause to pinpoint my destination, caused by the language barrier, he guided me several miles from the area of Zenkoji temple to the Olympic press center swiftly and comfortably.

Then he apologized. “I’m sorry,” the man said, “I don’t speak more English.” This was a revelation to me, the passenger who had yet to master a complete sentence in Japanese. It also was the first of many occasions in which a native offered (often unnecessary) atonement for doing his or her job and doing it well.

If there’s one English word that was universal among the organizers and volunteers at the Winter Games last month, it was “sorry.” “Sorry, you wait please,” an attendant at a media bus stop would say. Or, “Sorry to make you wait,” even if boarding was instantaneous. Whatever the hour or whatever the demands of the international press corps, the Japanese invariably were concerned, solicitous and quick to apologize even when everything went according to schedule.

How ironic then that the U.S. Olympic Committee had to wait three weeks to hear the phrase from the men’s hockey team after a few louts trashed rooms in the Olympic Village. The first expression of remorse came in a letter from captain Chris Chelios addressed to Japanese Olympic officials. “Certain conduct by a few members of our team was inexcusable,” the Chicago Blackhawks defenseman wrote. “I want to take this opportunity to apologize to the people of Japan, the Japanese Olympic Committee, the USOC and to all hockey fans throughout the world.”

The letter was released to the public one day after the USOC backed off threats of suspending players from future Olympics and demands for the names of the guilty parties if only the team would express contrition as well as offer restitution. “The important thing,” USOC executive director Dick Schultz said in a teleconference call on Thursday, “is that the people responsible, or the team as a whole, come forward, make the appropriate apologies and get this behind everybody.”

Chelios also sent a check in the amount of $3,000 to cover the damages, satisfying one of the USOC requests. The captain, who has denied taking part in the destruction, signed the letter on behalf of the team. It was in the aftermath of the Americans’ third loss in four games and their early elimination that some furniture was broken and hurled into a courtyard below a suite of rooms occupied by U.S. hockey players. By the time the full extent of the damage was assessed, the players were being spirited out of the country.

Exhibiting better teamwork than they displayed at any point during the tournament, they adopted a united front against ensuing criticism. They would give up no one and suffer the consequences as a group. The controversy, they insisted, was blown way out of proportion.

Certainly, the monetary amount involved wasn’t substantial, not for a group of millionaires. But the offense, particularly in the eyes of the hosts who pride themselves on respect for others and respect for property, was considerable. Japanese citizens with colds are expected to wear surgical masks in public in order not to spread their germs. There is no graffiti to speak of and misplaced items, no matter how valuable, are returned as a matter of course. They couldn’t fathom why a collection of famous and wealthy athletes would act in such a manner.

Nor was this an example of the hockey culture at work. No team in the competition was under greater pressure to win than Canada, which finally was getting the chance to regain Olympic prestige with its best players. But the Canadians lost to the Czech Republic one round after the eventual champions ousted the U.S. and they did so in the alien and capricious environment of a shootout.

They were sufficiently demoralized to lose the bronze-medal game to Finland the following afternoon, yet they stayed to the end, even participating in the Closing Ceremony. No vandalism was reported in their quarters. And on the day after the flame was extinguished, Eric Lindros, Patrick Roy and Wayne Gretzky wandered around Narita Airport in their team jackets and caps shopping for souvenirs and signing autographs.

It was enough to make anyone wonder about the makeup of Team USA, its maturity and its leaders. This was virtually the same club that had upset Canada in the finals of the first World Cup of Hockey 17 months earlier. What it apparently lacked was motivation.

With no tryouts or anything resembling a sacrifice on their part, the U.S. players treated their participation in the Olympics as an extended road trip. There was little sense that theirs was a privilege, not a right, and that they were representing something bigger than the Rangers, Islanders, Flyers, etc. In Nagano, as the result of what Chelios called “bitter frustration at our own level of play,” they embarrassed not only themselves but their sport and their country.

Despite the fallout and results that were disappointing in North America, the NHL is planning another Olympic shutdown in 2002 when the Games will be staged in Salt Lake City at times more favorable to U.S. television audiences. Hopefully, officials at USA Hockey will learn from the experience in Asia and choose players who are more than mercenaries, players to whom the Olympic experience holds real meaning.

The fact that they will be at home is no guarantee of good behavior. In Utah, at least, they won’t be at a loss to articulate their regrets. Perhaps the problem in Japan was that the Americans’ true feelings were lost in translation, that they couldn’t bring themselves to apologize by saying “gomennasai” even with an assist from Berlitz.