Media Savvy
True Blue To The End
By Mike Prisuta

He died, inexplicably, without ever having been recognized by the Hockey Hall of Fame. But there would be no such oversight when Herb Brooks was laid to rest.

A military flyover in the missing man formation saw to that.

Brooks deserved nothing less, for he was much more than "America's Coach."

Brooks was an American hero in the truest sense of the word, for his life was defined by what he believed as much as what he achieved.

The Penguins mourn his passing because they've lost a coach, a scout, a family member and a friend.

The hockey world mourns because it has lost an icon whose fame and reputation had long ago spread to every corner of the globe where the sport is important.

But aside from surviving family, it is the game itself that suffers the most.

There's never been one like him.

Sadly, those that aspire to be are almost as rare.

"The game is played on ice," Herbie reminded those in attendance at the Igloo Club when he replaced Kevin Constantine behind the Penguins' bench. "It isn't played on grass or dirt, on black top or hardwood."

The point was that hockey is a game of speed and reaction, one that should be played with passion and instinct, rather than by the numbers.

Brooks coached it as such, and in doing so coached players much more than he did situations, relied much more on motivation than matchups.

Brooks abhorred what he referred to as "book coaches," ones that had to "call timeout and run to the library to figure out what to do."

The late Bob Johnson, with his devotion to practice drills and his tireless study of the way others played the game, was such a coach. And coaching by the book worked wonders for Badger Bob, all the way from the University of Wisconsin to the Stanley Cup.

Still, that was a method that never appealed to Herbie in the least.

Brooks studied international styles as well, but only to incorporate what he deemed applicable as a complement to the American way of doing things that Herbie favored, the philosophy to which Herbie swore.

"Sophisticated pond hockey," he used to call it.

Sadly, Herbie's style is largely lacking in today's game. Nowadays coaches are trying to build a better trap rather than develop superior players and competitors.

Although Brooks did that well enough to win three national champions at the University of Minnesota (the Gophers had never won one before, and hadn't since Brooks left prior to capturing the 2001-02 and 2002-03 titles), his defining achievement will always be the "Miracle On Ice" gold medal at the 1980 Winter Olympics. But even that is misunderstood in retrospect, much as its main architect often was over the years.

The "miracle" was not that an unproven collection of American kids managed to defeat the Russian Red Army. For it was revealed in time that there was an impressive array of talent filling out the USA sweaters, skill much greater than the Americans had been given credit for prior to the Games. And it also became apparent over the years that Russia's ice dynasty was on the downside and ripe for a fall.

No, the miracle was Brooks convincing a collection of anonymous collegians that they were capable of besting what was unquestionably perceived at the time to be the greatest team in the world.

This was Brooks' stop-at-nothing mentality at its finest.

This was his love of the game and his passion for instilling it in others at its core.

Brooks made Minnesota a powerhouse with undersized teams that out-skated all comers, and then jumped at the chance to start a program from scratch at St. Cloud State.

He was cut from the 1960 USA Olympic Team, the final cut on what would be our country's first gold medal winner. Undaunted, Brooks came back to skate for America in 1964 and 1968.

He coached Team USA to immortality in 1980, and then tried to do the same for France and a subsequent collection of American professionals.

He failed to win a Stanley Cup for Craig Patrick and the New York Rangers, but that didn't stop Brooks from trying again with the New Jersey Devils, the Minnesota North Stars and the Penguins.

To the end, Herbie was true to his principles. He decried the dump-and-chase disease that long ago infected the NHL as "stupid Canadian hockey" during what turned out to be his last appearance on an international stage, the 2002 Winter Olympics. And he never stopped promoting America's place in the game.

Brooks and Team USA came up just short of gold in Salt Lake City, but the Americans' performance and presence was no less inspiring.

Herbie saw to that.

He never believed in limits, never stopped competing and never lost faith in the human spirit.

That spirit soars in his memory, even as the heart aches in the realization that he's gone.

Mike Prisuta is a columnist for the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review and the sports director of WDVE-FM.