It hurts...
- Isabelle Morin
- Feb 20
- 3 min read
Updated: Feb 23
I woke up happy this morning, but not whole. It felt as if a piece of my heart had been left behind in that arena. As if true happiness was impossible, because yesterday I watched a team come so close to a gold medal they could almost taste it… and yet it slipped away. Yesterday, I felt half an arena shift from expecting an American domination to suddenly believing, truly believing, that a miracle was possible. Three minutes before the end, some people were probably already reaching for their phones, ready to capture those final seconds when the women in red and white would complete their own “miracle on ice.”
You know how it ended. With two and a half minutes left, the Americans pulled their goalie. I barely had time to turn to Dave and say, “Oh no, it’s too early,” before it happened. The American women scored a beautiful goal, and it was the beginning of the end.
You know the rest: we lost 2–1 in overtime. And for the first time in my life, I cried over a sporting event. Truly cried. I don’t know what it is—how a “game” becomes part of you, how a loss can feel like a bruise on your own body. I don’t even play hockey! I don’t know if it’s my one‑degree‑of‑separation from Marie‑Philip that makes it hit harder, or simply the fact of being there, witnessing it live. Whatever it is, I’m grateful for it. How lucky am I to feel so deeply.
Dave and I were fortunate enough to be the voice of Canadians after the game, in the arena that night on CBC Radio’s As It Happens. When the segment host asked me if it was worth being there in person despite the loss, I almost said “Are you kidding me?” Being there was surreal. Imagine two nations, who aren’t exactly on the best terms right now, sitting side by side, united by sport. Both wanting their team to win so badly, yet completely understanding the emotions of the fans on the other side. Dave and I were sandwiched between two American couples, and all around us there was nothing but respect. I yelled “No, no, no!” every time an American player approached our net. The woman beside me did the same when a Canadian got close to theirs. And everyone loved it, because this game mattered to both of us. After the final goal, countless Canadians congratulated American fans, and the Americans kept saying, “I’m so sorry…”
Marie‑Philip, if you ever read this, be proud! You fought with everything you had. That game reminded me of the World Series final when the Blue Jays led the whole game but lost at the end. My favourite headline afterward was: “It’s the first time I’ve seen the losing team win.” Yes, MPP—you won. You won our hearts. forever! You made women’s hockey real in the hearts of men, and goodness knows we need them if this sport is going to flourish. If anyone doubts the impact you’ve had, I’ll remind them of that same World Series: when Vladimir Guerrero walked into his last game wearing your jersey, that’s when we knew that you had won at life (Long live the PWHL and Women’s Hockey everywhere in the world)
Merci, Marie‑Philip.
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