Jeff Lund

Many of my friends ask me what it feels like to sit on press row during the basketball games. I tell them that the view is pretty good. They laugh at me and ask how I keep my composure and stay calm, especially during games like the come-from-behind victory over UCLA last month.

I explain that just because I can't jump up and down and rush the court doesn't mean I am not excited, and they accept that as a worthy answer.

This week in particular, I gave a bit more thought to what it would be like to be at other games, when being professional would have been a bit more difficult.

What would I have done if I was sitting courtside when Miles Simon put up 30 points and Arizona was crowned national champions? Would tapping my foot and chewing on my lip release enough energy? I think not.

What if I was at the Super Bowl this year, covering the Patriots?

Think of all of the great sporting events over the past years. I try and imagine myself working, not cheering as something jaw-dropping unfolded before my eyes.

Some have more sentimental value than others, because watching two teams you don't really care about is far different from observing one you have a connection with.

Then the Olympics started. I sat in front of my TV and watched a special on the U.S. Hockey team's "Miracle on Ice" in Lake Placid during the 1980 Winter Games.

During the early '80s, the Cold War was on the mind of every American. Russian forces paraded their military power down streets of Russian cities, as Americans nervously bit their nails hoping a war that seemed imminent would not break out.

It was a low time for the United States, and when the Americans took on Russia in the medal round at the 1980 Games, it looked again like America would be humbled, and an already beaten American morale would suffer another blow.

With American flags scattered throughout the crowd around the rink in Lake Placid, the Americans did something nothing short of a miracle. Russia was by far the best hockey team in the world and the United States was just a bunch of kids. But when the buzzer sounded, and Al Michaels counted down the final seconds and then uttered those famous words, "Commantary: Do you believe in miracles?" the USA had won.

Not just on the ice.

All of the United States were just that. United behind the American flag that was raised after the gold-medal game against Finland, the United States had its miracle and had something to believe in.

The mighty Russians had been beaten, and the United States continued on to win the gold medal.

There was hope.

Twenty-two years later, the states are united again at the Winter Olympics on American soil.

When the tattered World Trade Center flag was carried out during the open ceremonies, I was silent.

The flag of my country, torn by the terrorism of Sept. 11, gave all of the United States hope, not just hope for the most gold medals, but for hope in the future.

Just like when things seemed like they couldn't get any worse in 1980, the Olympics directed a country unsure of itself.

Being that I was not born yet when the United States brought down the mighty Russians, I cannot say what it would have felt like to be there.

But watching the replay on TV, my heart swelled and I smiled.

I gave a little laugh when I realized I would have probably been the first one running out on the ice to congratulate my heroes - because that's what they are.

Heroes.

I will see plenty of good games or matches from now until I die; I only hope I am there for one with the magnitude of that fateful night in Lake Placid - preferably as a fan.