The Greatest Game I Ever Saw Is a Game You Never Heard Of

Up until Nov. 2, 2016, the greatest sporting event I ever saw in person was a long-forgotten 1973 hockey game.

Now it’s a tie.

The Cubs ending 108 years of solitude in Game 7 of the World Series? That’s so momentous. How many teams have been around long enough to even have a chance to do that?

And the way it unfolded was pretty good, too. Early lead. Big lead. Blown lead. Extra innings. Rain delay. Joy.

I also will say this: The Indians fans around us in the upper deck were as gracious as could be. After a tense game where each side wanted to win so badly, they turned to us and offered heartfelt congratulations. Cleveland is at the top of my class meter.

But what happened in Boston Garden on March 16, 1973, was so improbable, so dramatic, so important that it’s right there in my memory bank.

Coming back from a 4-0 deficit halfway through a national semi-final hockey game? That doesn’t happen.

We all loved The Miracle on Ice. The defeat of the Russians in the 1980 Olympics moved a nation. But that was on a little TV. Wisconsin's miracle on ice was right before our eyes in the hallowed Boston Garden.

Put it this way: When my friend David was studying for finals the next year, he was found passed out in a pile of law books. On the still-turning record player, was ``Good Evening, Hockey Fans!’’ an LP made to commemorate the Badgers’ 1973 championship season.

But let me begin at the beginning.

At Wisconsin in the early ‘70s, hockey was the big sport. Football was a great way to spend a Saturday afternoon. And basketball was a great way to see the stars from other Big Ten teams up-close.

But if you wanted to win, hockey was the way to go. And people did want to win. Hockey tickets were precious, obtained through a lottery for either Friday or Saturday season tickets. And then, there was lining up early for the best of the unreserved student seats.

Wisconsin had been to the Hockey Final Four—the term ``Frozen Four’’ was not used at that point—twice in the previous three years. It had not won a game. But we were hopeful this was a team of destiny.

``Boston! Boston! Boston!’’ That was the lead of the column written by Glenn Miller, the sports editor at the Wisconsin State Journal, when Wisconsin secured its Final Four berth. Say what you want. It made the point. I worked for Glenn on the State Journal sports desk. When I told him I wanted the weekend off to go to Boston, he understood.

And so, my friends David, Bob and I found a guy looking for riders and piled into the Littlest Toyota for the longest drive. (This was back in the day when Detroit looked down its nose at Toyota and Datsun, and considered Honda a motorcycle.)

Just 17 or 18 hours later, we were stretching our legs on the Freedom Trail. I wasn’t writing sports then for the beloved Daily Cardinal student newspaper. But I did contribute a column about hitting every bar on the Freedom Trail.

When we slept, we slept on couches of friends at Boston University. And then went to Boston Garden for the first semi-final: Denver vs. Boston College.

In those simpler times, there were only two major college leagues: The WCHA in the West, the ECAC in the East. The top two teams from each conference tournament went to the Final Four.

Denver, the Western champion, defeated B.C., the Eastern runnerup, by a whopping 10-4. The game got out of hand quickly. The only detail I remember is that a frustrated B.C. fan started blowing a whistle to signify offsides and distract Denver. It didn’t work—for him or his team. A security detail located the whistle-blower and escorted him out.

Boston Garden was special. It was smaller and dingier than the pristine, cathedral-like Chicago Stadium. But the Garden was livelier: It felt very homey and historic. And it had a transportation hub with an arcade featuring our favorite pinball machine, Dimension. Bob and I took it down. Dimension was the greatest pinball machine ever made. It still is. I have one in my home office and still find it fascinating. But that’s a story for another day.

The next night came the anticipated moment: Eastern champion Cornell vs. Western runnerup Wisconsin. The Badgers had finished third in the regular season, but had edged second-place Notre Dame in the post-season tournament for a Final Four berth.

I don’t remember much of the first half of that game. We were probably saying, ``Well, the clam chowder at Durgin-Park was terrific.’’ I looked it up. The Badgers were trailing 4-0 with eight minutes left in the second period. With 7:57 left, Norm Cherrey scored to make it 4-1. Another goal late in the second meant Wisconsin was only down 4-2 going into the third period.

When Cornell scored in the opening minute of the third period, though, the Badgers trailed by a bleak 5-2. But they kept grinding. With five seconds left, Dean Talafous, Wisconsin’s best player, tied the game 5-5. I found this grainy highlights video from the 40-year reunion of the team.

Talafous added the game-winner 9½ minutes into overtime. And suddenly, the bars on the Freedom Trail and the Durgin-Park clam chowder were not the highlights of our trip.

The greatest comeback I had ever seen was the highlight. And it remains that way to this day.

Somewhere during that weekend in Boston, we were in a bar that had a yellow Rolls Royce parked outfront. Elroy ``Crazy Legs’’ Hirsch, who was the Wisconsin AD at the time, came into the bar, plunked down some cash and said, ``Drinks for everyone wearing red.’’

The Wisconsin coach was Bob Johnson, who became known as Badger Bob after he left Madison. To us, he was The Hawk; everybody was a Badger in Madison. Only a few years before he arrived, Wisconsin was an aspiring hockey independent that played at a tiny community rink.

Hawk Johnson was so enthusiastic. He tragically died of brain cancer in 1991. He was just 60. His trademark phrase, ``It’s a great day for hockey!’’ keeps his memory alive.

When he was coaching the Pittsburgh Penguins in 1990-91, I caught up with him at a pre-game meal at the Chicago Stadium and got him reminiscing about that 1973 team,

At that point, he had won three NCAA national championships, led the Calgary Flames to a Stanley Cup final and coached the 1976 U.S. Olympic team. He was in the middle of a season in which he would coach the Mario-Lemieux-led Pittsburgh Penguins to the Stanley Cup.

When I asked him the greatest game he had ever coached, he hesitated. But after a pause, he launched into the play-by-play of the final seconds of regulation of that game against Cornell.

I don’t remember the words to that play-by-play. I imagine they went something like this: ``Faceoff to the right of the Cornell goalie. Badgers win the draw. Pass. Pass. Pass. Talafous scores!''

I wonder if they were on that long-lost album, ``Good Evening Hockey Fans.’’ That was the legendary phrase of Phil Mendel, the PA announcer at the Dane County Coliseum, where the Badgers played. I never met Mr. Mendel. But he was a pharmacist, like my dad. And he had a slightly nasal voice, like another beloved hockey PA announcer, the Blackhawks’ Harvey Wittenberg.

The night after the miracle against Cornell, the Badgers fulfilled their destiny with a 4-2 win over Denver for their first national championship. They had trailed 2-1 early in the second period, but that hardly seems worth mentioning.

A comeback from a 4-0 deficit in hockey? For all the marbles? The memory of that still haunts and inspires.

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If you like sports history with an extra bit of drama, please consider my 1908 Cubs novel, The Run Don’t Count. Available at Amazon.com. Excerpts and other information at facebook/therundontcount