Milano Cortina Olympics: men's hockey semifinal, USA-Slovakia (20-02-2026)

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My last day at the Olympics begins in the afternoon: I visit the splendid exhibition ‘L'Italia sulla neve’ (Italy on Snow), dedicated to posters and illustrations of winter sports from the first half of the twentieth century (mostly), then the houses of Brazil, Switzerland and Korea. I also stop by the Fan Zone, where I watch Lollobrigida's race. I decide not to go to a store, as the queue is too long. 

As I go around, I linger and start to worry that I won't make it in time for the start: when I take the underground, around 8:25 PM (the start is at 9:10 PM), I see few people who seem to be heading to the game, a sign that most are already there. At Rogoredo, some people get off, mostly Americans, but after a shuttle leaves right in front of me, only a few of us are left waiting for the next one, which waits a bit to fill up before departing. On the shuttle, there are also some Slovaks in traditional costume. When I reach the gate, I open my ticket on the app and notice with some sadness that it’s the last one. There is no line, but the security check is very thorough; they make me empty my pockets completely (usually they say to empty them, but they don’t actually require you to take everything out) and move things around in my backpack (though only in one pocket, anyway).

In the end, picking up the pace a bit (my knee has improved), I get to my seat about five minutes before the start. I see a lot of empty seats: in the next few minutes some will fill up, but many will remain; just in the row in front of me, there are six consecutive empty seats. This is another case where they went overboard with prices: in fact, this was the event I paid the most for, 480 euros for a category B seat (by the way, I never understood which were category A seats in this arena). In the upper deck, where the category C seats are, you don’t see any empty spots except in the corner section, where I’ve seen quite a few in every game. I’m curious to see what will happen for the closing ceremony, where prices were even more outrageous (category C was 950 euros, and as I write, they are still available). Among those present, besides Americans and Slovaks, there are a good number of Canadians, then Swiss, Swedes, and Finns (always intended as people wearing the jerseys of their respective national teams—I can’t guarantee they were really from those countries). Many Americans are wearing jerseys dedicated to the “miracle on ice” of 1980: number 80 with the name “Miracle” or the star of that time, Mike Eruzione. There’s even someone with a jersey hoping for the annexation of Canada: number 51 with “Canada” written on it (that too should probably count as “political content”). Next to me, there’s an American in ordinary clothes and three Italians.

The game begins: from my side, the USA are attacking. The teams have the same colors—white, red, and blue—of course, arranged differently, but in the faster plays, they can be hard to tell apart. The initial phase is confused, with lots of turnovers from both sides. The first chant comes from the Slovak fans; the Americans respond only after a while. Just over four minutes in, during a line change with both teams incomplete, the Americans gain possession at the start of the offensive third and score with a cross-shot. It’s a tense game: the checks don’t seem as hard as in Canada–Czechia, but in the two minutes after the goal, there are two hints of scuffles, one in front of each goal. Both sides keep attacking, but only the USA are truly threatening (though it could be because I’m closer to their attacks). With 40 seconds left in the period, after a few seconds of power play, they go up 2–0. At the end of the first period, the shot tally, 13–10 for the USA, makes it look like an even match, but it hasn’t really been.

During the first intermission, I try to charge my phone, but all the charging stations are taken. At least I don’t have my underground ticket on my phone anymore, so if it dies, the only consequence is I won’t be able to use it. I get back with a few minutes to spare before play resumes. The second period starts much like the first: both sides attack, but the USA are more dangerous, until, just after the halfway point, they score two goals in 19 seconds—first on a solo run, then by stealing the puck right in front of the net. Slovakia changes goalies, and the outgoing one doesn’t take it well: now I realize that the player I saw sitting off by himself, away from the bench, was the backup goalie. The game becomes more and more one-sided, and you wonder how Slovakia made it this far. In the final minutes, the score becomes 5–0.

The second intermission is a repeat of the first: I try in vain to charge my phone. Near the end, I find a free outlet (an actual outlet, not a charging station), but there’s too little time before the game resumes. I return with just over a minute left. In the third period, the game becomes more balanced: the Slovaks score, the loudspeaker plays a Slavic song (I can’t say if it was actually Slovak), and the fans dance. They come close to 5–2 several times but then concede another goal. Three minutes later, they score to make it 6–2, and the fans celebrate as if they had at least tied the game. With two to three minutes left, the arena starts to empty out: I stay, because it’s still an Olympic event—and, besides, it’s my last one. Before the end, there’s a bigger brawl than the earlier ones, ending with a 10-minute penalty for each side and a two-minute penalty for an American.

Once outside, I reach the shuttle fairly quickly. There, I meet a lady from Texas and another from San Diego, and I comment on how, in the USA, hockey is popular even in warm places, while in Rome we don’t even have an ice rink.

My Olympic experience ends here, and it can’t be said it ended on a high note, with this not-so-great, one-sided game. Still, it was a wonderful experience, and I hope to be there in the French Alps.

Olimpiadi di Milano Cortina: semifinale hockey maschile, USA-Slovacchia (20-02-2026)

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La mia ultima giornata olimpica comincia nel pomeriggio: visito la splendida mostra "L'Italia sulla neve", dedicata a poster e illustrazioni di sport invernali della prima metà del novecento (per lo più), poi le case di Brasile, Svizzera e Corea. Passo anche dalla Fan Zone, dove vedo la gara della Lollobrigida. Rinuncio invece a passare da uno store, troppa coda.

Nel fare tutti questi giri mi attardo e comincio a temere di non arrivare in tempo per l'inizio: quando prendo la metro, verso le 20,25 (l'inizio è alle 21,10) vedo poca gente che sembra andare alla partita, segno che i più sono già lì. A Rogoredo qualcuno scende, soprattutto americani, ma dopo che una navetta mi parte proprio davanti siamo rimasti in pochi ad aspettare la successiva, che prima di partire aspetta un po' che si riempia. Sulla navetta si vedono anche degli slovacchi in costume tradizionale. Arrivato al cancello, apro il biglietto sull'app e noto con malinconia che è l'ultimo. Non c'è coda, ma il controllo che subisco è molto accurato, mi fa svuotare completamente le tasche (normalmente dicono di svuotarle, ma poi non pretendono che uno le svuoti completamente) e spostare la cose nello zaino (solo in una tasca, comunque).

Alla fine, accelerando un po' (il ginocchio è migliorato) arrivo al mio posto circa cinque minuti prima dell'inizio. Vedo molti vuoti: nei minuti successivi alcuni si riempiranno, ma tanti rimarranno: già nella fila davanti a me ci sono sei posti vuoti consecutivi. E' un altro di quei casi in cui hanno esagerato coi prezzi: è stato infatti l'evento che ho pagato di più, 480 euro per una categoria B (tra l'altro, non ho mai capito quali fossero i posti di categoria A in questo palazzetto). Nell'anello superiore, dove sono i posti di categoria C, di vuoti non se vedono, se non nel settore d'angolo dove ne ho visti parecchi in tutte le partite. Sono curioso di vedere cosa succederà per la cerimonia di chiusura, dove i prezzi erano ancora più spropositati (la categoria C era 950 euro, e mentre scrivo è ancora disponibile). Tra quelli che ci sono, comunque, oltre ad americani e slovacchi, un buon numero di canadesi, poi svizzeri, svedesi e finlandesi (intesi sempre come persone con le maglie delle rispettive nazionali, non posso garantire che fossero davvero tutti di quei paesi). Molti americani indossano maglie dedicate al "miracle on ice" del 1980: n. 80 con la scritta "Miracle" o quella della stella di allora, Mike Eruzione. Ce n'è anche uno con una maglia  che auspica l'annessione del Canada: n. 51 con la scritta Canada (e anche quella sarebbe da considerare "contenuto politico"). Accanto a me, un americano in borghese e tre italiani.

Si parte: dal mio lato attaccano gli USA. Le squadre hanno gli stessi colori: bianco, rosso e blu, beninteso distribuiti in modo diverso, ma nelle azioni più veloci si possono confondere. Prima fase confusa, con molti dischi persi da entrambe le parti. Il primo coro è dei tifosi slovacchi, gli americani risponderanno solo dopo un po'. Dopo poco più di 4', durante un cambio di linee, con squadre incomplete, gli americani prendono il disco all'inizio del terzo offensivo e segnano con un tiro incrociato, Partita nervosa: i contrasti di gioco non sembrano violenti come in Canada-Cechia, ma in compenso nei due minuti dopo il gol ci sono due accenni di rissa, uno sotto ciascuna porta. Si continua con attacchi da entrambe le parti, ma con solo gli USA veramente pericolosi (ma potrebbe anche dipendere dal fatto che i loro attacchi li vedo più da vicino) a 40" dalla fine, dopo pochi secondi di superiorità numerica, si portano sul 2-0. Alla fine del primo tempo, il conto dei tiri in porta, 13-10 per gli USA, danno l'aria di una partita equilibrata, ma non è stato proprio così.

Nel primo intervallo cerco di mettere in carica il telefono, ma trovo le stazioni di ricarica tutte occupate. Almeno non ho più il biglietto della metro sul telefono, quindi se mi si scarica non avrò altre conseguenze che quella di non poterlo usare, Rientro con qualche minuto di margine sulla ripresa. Si riprende sulla falsariga del primo tempo: entrambi attaccano, ma gli USA sono più pericolosi, fin quando, poco dopo la metà, non segnano due gol in 19", prima su azione personale, poi rubando il disco a pochi passi dalla porta, La Slovacchia cambia il portiere, che non la prende bene: capisco adesso che il giocatore che vedevo seduto per conto suo, separato dalla panchina, era il portiere di riserva. La partita si fa sempre più a senso unico, ci si chiede come abbiano fatto gli slovacchi ad arrivare fin qui, Nel finale arriva anche il 5-0.

Secondo intervallo che replica il primo: cerco inutilmente di caricare il telefono. Verso la fine trovo una presa libera (proprio una presa, on una stazione di ricarica) ma manca troppo poco alla ripresa. Rientro che manca poco più di un minuto. Nel terzo tempo la partita si fa più equilibrata: gli slovacchi segnano, l'altoparlante mette una canzone slava (non so dire se fosse proprio slovacca) e i tifosi ballano. Vanno anche più volte vicini al 5-2, ma poi prendono un altro gol. Tre minuti dopo segnano il 6-2 e i tifosi festeggiano come se avessero quanto meno pareggiato. A 2-3 minuti dalla fine il palazzetto comincia a svuotarsi: io resto, perché è pur sempre una prova olimpica e per di più è l'ultima. Prima della fine ci sarà una rissa più grossa delle altre, che si concluderà con una penalità di 10' per parte e una di 2' per un americano.

Una volta usciti, si arriva alla navetta abbastanza rapidamente. Lì conosco una signora del Texas e una di San Diego e commento come negli USA l'hockey sia popolare anche in posti caldi, mentre da noi a Roma non c'è un palazzo del ghiaccio.

La mia esperienza olimpica finisce qui, e non si può dire sia finita in bellezza, con questa partita non bella e senza storia. E' stata comunque una splendida esperienza e spero di esserci nelle Alpi francesi.

Milano Cortina Olympics: women's hockey final, USA-Canada (19-02-2026)

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I leave a little later than planned and start to worry, if not that I won't see the start of the match, at least that I'll arrive very close to it. Already on the underground, I see a few people wearing the shirts of the two teams. I catch the shuttle bus straight away, there's no queue at all: I meet a mixed couple, he's Canadian and she's American. When we arrive near the stadium, I begin to notice the Canadian presence: in the queue, I hear people talking about the 1976 Montreal Olympics, one woman says that her sister worked as an interpreter. When I tell the security guard that I am Italian (at first they always speak to you in English, sometimes even if you have Italian flags in view), she replies that she is the one who does not speak Italian well: I must always bear in mind that not all volunteers are Italian, so before speaking to them I always try to read the name on their badge.

When I get to the stands, it’s clear the Canadian presence is overwhelming: generally, I’d estimate at least two-thirds of the crowd are Canadians, and in my block, maybe even more. The two women sitting to my left, who were the last to take their seats, are American. As they arrived, I was about to ask the Canadian couple next to them if I could borrow one of their four flags. There aren’t many neutrals, and most seem to be supporting Canada: right behind me is a German-speaking couple cheering for Canada, and I spot a group of Swiss fans, likely remaining after their bronze medal win in the previous match. There are two people waving an EU flag. Outfits are diverse and eye-catching, but there’s also someone with a MAGA cap, which I think shouldn’t be allowed since it’s a “political content.”

I’m on the opposite side compared to previous matches, and sitting lower down (in this section, you can’t even reach the height of my old seats). I have a great view of the action on one side, a bit less so from the other; I brought binoculars, but I’ll seldom use them for fear of missing a decisive moment while lifting them to my eyes. The game kicks off, and returning to a women’s match after two men’s games, I notice not only the slower pace, but especially that the physical contact is much lighter compared to the men's matches.

This is a real contest, not a one-sided affair like those I’d seen before; after the 5-0 scoreline in the group stage, I had my doubts. The USA starts on the attack, but after a few minutes Canada responds. After 5 minutes, the U.S. take a penalty for having seven players on the ice; I watch the puck dance just a few centimetres from the goal, but the Canadians can’t capitalize. Later, there’s another penalty—first a chance for the USA, then two back-to-back for Canada. The period ends with the USA pressing and a Canadian penalty just 15 seconds from the buzzer. The score is 0-0, with shots  8-6 for the USA (they were 4-0 at first). The U.S. fans are louder; Canadians seem shy in their response.

During the first intermission, I plug in my phone to charge, meaning I have to stay outside for a while. I notice the store line isn’t long, so I decide to make one last purchase. It takes me some time to choose, and from the voices rising from the stands, I start to worry that play has resumed. There’s a cheer, and the Americans left outside rush to the railing, hoping their team scored (they had a power play). I peek in and discover Canada scored! The joy of the moment is balanced by my disappointment for missing the goal. I return to my seat, and the period has already been going for nearly two minutes. The Yanks attack furiously: I see at least two miraculous saves by Canadian goalie Ann-Renee Desbiens, plus other saves I’m not qualified to assess how difficult they really were. The Canadians also have their chances, and their fans get louder: an intense period, ending 1-0 with 27 shots on goal, almost double the first period.

intenso, finisce 1-0 e con 27 tiri in porta, quasi il doppio del primo tempo.

In the second intermission, I take a walk, mainly to watch the fans, and come back about three minutes before play resumes. The USA starts attacking, but gradually Canada gains ground and creates more chances. With 6 minutes and 30 seconds left, the USA takes a penalty, initially called as major then downgraded to two minutes after instant review (I, and probably many others, thought no penalty had been called at all): Canada squanders several opportunities both during the power play and afterward. It seems the old saying “missed goal, conceded goal” holds true in hockey as well: USA scores with a deflection (by a teammate) of a long-range shot, just two minutes from the end.

We go to overtime (for the fifth consecutive game, men’s and women’s combined), and this time I decide to stay at my seat during the break, thinking it would be shorter, but it lasts 18 minutes. They announce that overtime will be a maximum of 20 minutes (with “sudden death,” what soccer used to call “golden goal”), with teams reduced to three skaters each—a surprise for many, not just me. The game resumes: the U.S. attack more, but the Canadians come closest to scoring on a fastbreak, and almost my entire block stands when they go forward. After four minutes, though, the USA scores on a fastbreak: everyone rushes onto the ice, tossing helmets and sticks, while the Canadians retreat to their bench.

The carpets are rolled out for the awards ceremony: some people leave (naturally, mostly Canadians), but most stay. Military personnel enter with the flags, followed by the medal presenters: six in total, three from the IOC (which the Italian announcer calls also IOC, forgetting to translate the acronym) and three from the hockey federation. The Swiss bronze medalists come out last. Medals are awarded in order of jersey number, with each athlete introduced individually. From the expressions shown on the screen, it’s clear that bronze brings more joy than silver, and even the Americans don’t seem as happy as the Swiss. After their team’s medal ceremony, many Canadians leave—I head out as the U.S. anthem plays and some people sing along.

The line for the shuttle moves quickly at first, then slows near the end. Several news crews are interviewing spectators; one lady says she’s with Associated Press. Even downtown, when I stop to eat, I bump into many Canadians. And tomorrow, it’s USA vs. Slovakia in the men’s tournament.