Herb Brooks Articles & Resources

"That's the kind of man he was," says Ken Morrow, a defenseman on the 1980 team. "Things like that go unnoticed. He didn't want to take the glory for the victory. He wanted the team to have it. That's what kind of coach he was and that's what kind of man he was."

His selflessness, his dedication, his hockey genius, his passion: These were the kinds of things people remembered about Brooks at his memorial service in August. His death days earlier had left the hockey world stunned. Some 2,500 family members, friends, and former players crammed into the Cathedral of St. Paul in Minnesota's state capital to pay their final respects. There were former players from the 1980 team, from his time as coach at the University of Minnesota, and from the four teams--the New York Rangers, New Jersey Devils, Minnesota North Stars, and Pittsburgh Penguins--he coached in the NHL. Many people sniffled and sobbed, others were stone-faced and speechless. They all listened as the words of the eulogies painted a perfect picture of the Miracle Man.

"It's clear to all of us here, he was a special man," said Mike Eruzione, captain of the 1980 team. "He had a passion to coach, a passion to teach. It was hard for him to show his emotions. He's like your dad. You love your dad, but sometimes you don't like your dad because he makes you do things you don't want to do. We've lost a great man."

"I'm sure he was the greatest coach ever," said Bill Butters, who played for Brooks at the University of Minnesota. "But he was a father figure, a man of integrity, a man of character, and a man of passion."

"Most miracles are dreams made manifest," said Rev. John Malone of Assumption Catholic Church in St. Paul. "Herbie had a dream. The players had a dream. If we could all dream ... and do our best, we could make this a better world. It's within our reach; it's within God's reach."

Brooks' lifelong dream was to put American hockey on the international map. The last player cut from the team that struck Olympic gold at Squaw Valley in 1960, Brooks set out to learn all he could about hockey. To that end, he pored over game film, analyzed systems, and even studied how some of the European dub teams were playing. Influenced by what he saw in places such as Sweden. he began to see smaller, skilled players as alternative to the traditional knuckle-dragging North American-style player. By the time it cane to pick his players for the Lake Placid Games, he bypassed all the Philadelphia Flyers-style, lumbering, up-and-down-the-wing players for guys who could skate, shoot, pass, and play interchangeably in any situation. Then, in another hockey homage to Europe, he put these players in motion.

The left wing would end up at center, the center would end up at right wing, and a defenseman would come up and join the rush on the left wing. This was part hockey, part ice ballet, and all revolutionary. After the Soviets fell, the Finns didn't have a prayer in the gold medal game against the Americans and the wave of destiny they were riding.

Only Herb Brooks could turn hockey into salvation for a country beaten down by the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, the Iranian Hostage Crisis, and double-digit inflation. When Eruzione called the rest of the . team onto the medal podium, it was as if he was symbolically calling the whole nation to come up and stand tall with him. Brooks, the mentor and mastermind, was instantly elevated to icon status.

"He visualized our success in 1980 probably 20 years earlier. He was the first believer," says Jack O'Callahan, a defenseman on the 1980 team. "He chose 20 guys who wanted to believe. 20 guys that had open hearts and open minds and were led around by a guy who was a real dreamer. He was the catalyst. What he did reverberated around the world time after time after time. It led to a tremendous change in the NHL You're talking about a league that was controlled by tightfisted Canadians. Now, here comes this college coach who sticks a flag in the ground and says, 'I'm ready to take you on and you're in for it.'"

The Rangers brought Brooks in a year or so later, and he brought his system with him. Dubbed "the European System" by sportswriters who didn't know what to call it, Brooks' plan was so unique to the NHL as former Ranger winger Steve Vickers put it, "that other teams didn't know how to defense it. They had no idea what we were up to."

Especially the Flyers, whom Brooks eliminated two straight springs thanks to players such as Rejio Ruotsalainen and Mikko Leinonen. Flyers coach Bob MacCammon, so frustrated by these five-foot-nothing knee-biters, called the Rangers "a bunch of Smurfs."

"That infuriated Herb," says John Halligan, the vice president of communications and business manager for the Rangers during most of Brooks' four seasons in New York, who now works for the NHL. "He hated being called that. But that's the kind of coach he was. He stuck up lot his players." He was also a master motivator. His stately Scotty Bowman exterior belied an "Iron" Mike Keenan fire raging inside. He could smash a stick over a crossbar with the best of them. Or he could be more subtle. He'd pass on little nuggets of knowledge and wisdom on to his players. They became known as Brooksisms. They'd walk into the locker room and find "Good enough isn't good enough" scrawled on the chalkboard.

"He knew what made players tick," says Neal Broten, center for the 1980 team. "He knew which buttons to push for each player, and with 20 players, that can be quite a job. He knew if he got on you, you would go out and play harder to try to spite that son of a gun. He was a master psychologist." Morrow, speaking mere hours after Brooks' minivan rolled over at a highway intersection north of the Twin Cities, remembered the speech Brooks gave the team before its game with the Soviet Union. The words still give him goose bumps.

"He said something like 'You were born to be a player. You were meant to be here. This time is yours,'" Morrow says. "To say that to a wide-eyed group of college kids was power stuff. It was a tremendous speech delivered at the right time. It was the best one I ever heard."

In recent years, he's worked in the Pens' front office and coached the American team to an Olympic silver.

"I was in Salt Lake City in 2002 when he coached the American team," O'Callahan says. "You had guys coming out of the woodwork to play for him. Chris Chelios and Tony Amonte and Brett Hull and John Leclair. It's a pain in the neck to go play in the Olympics in the middle of a season, but to a man, they all wanted to play for Herb. When you have an opportunity to play in the Olympics in the United States for Herb Brooks, that's a chance of a lifetime. I was out there and there was a sense of respect from the players. It was tangible. Herbie had a presence about him."

As elegant as the eulogies were, the greatest tribute paid to Brooks came after the service. As the pallbearers carried him down the church steps, they passed under a canopy of 33 raised hockey sticks held by former players and friends.

"He's going to be missed," Morrow says. "We'll miss him every day."