When the United States and Canada met for the Paralympic sled hockey gold medal game this past Sunday in Italy, the moment was already historic.
For the first time in the same Olympics, all three international hockey championships — the Olympic Paralympic tournament, the Olympic women’s tournament, and the Olympic men’s tournament — featured a U.S. vs. Canada gold medal matchup. By the end of it all, the Americans had swept up on the sport’s biggest international stage.
Three gold medals; one intense rivalry.
As a Canuck myself, I’ve gotta’ admit, it stings a little. After all, what else are we known for down here but hockey excellence?
Saying “Eh?” a lot?
On the Paralympic side of that historic sweep, American Jack Wallace scored a hat trick as the United States defeated Canada 6-2, securing the U.S. sled hockey team’s fifth consecutive Paralympic gold medal and Wallace’s third.
During the medal ceremony, once the gold medal hung around his neck, Wallace raised it high so everyone could see it, but especially for his father, who responded by holding up three fingers for three gold medals, and maybe also for the three goals his son contributed to the effort.
Now, Wallace’s contributions definitely weren’t so dramatic as those by Megan Keller and Jack Hughes, who each delivered gold-clinching overtime scores in their respective championship games against the Canadians. But they were no less important.
He scored once in each period, masterfully controlled the puck, and created space for his teammates throughout the game.
Afterward, U.S. Paralympics head coach David Hoff pointed out that Canada’s defense had focused heavily on U.S. star Declan Farmer, who entered the game on a scoring streak. He said that attention opened opportunities for someone else to take control.
Enter Wallace. For those of us who have spent much of our lives around hockey, it was impossible not to appreciate his effort.
I played the sport as a goaltender for about 40 years, starting in local, southern Ontario youth leagues, then returning to action in my late-20s in pickup games and what hockey players jokingly call “beer leagues.”
Anyone who has played gets to understand the rhythm of the game, appreciate the scrape and crunch of sharp skates digging into the ice, the crack of a stick blade meeting the puck, a burst of acceleration chasing down an opponent, and the instinct to keep going even when your lungs are burning.
Then, in April 2016, my own relationship with the sport changed. An injury suffered at a professionally sanctioned drag race (I was taking photos, not competing) ultimately led to the amputation of my lower left leg.
It’s the kind of dramatic life shift you just don’t anticipate.
Hockey players spend decades thinking about the next shift, next game, or next season, not the possibility that the game might suddenly become something you can’t physically play anymore.
That’s probably one reason why watching the U.S. sled hockey team resonated so strongly with me.
Athletes like Wallace and his gold-medal-winning teammates serve as reminders that the love of the game doesn’t disappear with disability.
Wallace himself lost part of his right leg at age 10, the result of a boating accident. He said he discovered sled hockey through a camp for young people with limb loss and quickly realized it offered almost the same speed and intensity of traditional hockey.
Watching highlights of the Paralympics gold medal game, it was clear to me that nothing about the competition felt diminished.
Sled hockey is fast and physical. Players propel themselves across the ice using metal picks attached to shortened hockey sticks, battling for position, and firing shots that would look familiar in any professional arena, never mind the sometimes molasses pace of beer league!
It remains hockey — pure and simple.
When Wallace completed his hat trick, his teammates erupted the way all hockey players do — sticks raised high overhead, then tapping the ice, followed by a crowd of congratulations that migrates to an equally stoked bench on the sidelines.
For athletes living with disabilities, those moments carry an added weight. They prove the story doesn’t have to end when life changes direction. They show passion for a sport — any sport or activity, really — can adapt, evolve, and even flourish in ways many people never imagine.