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.

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.

Milano Cortina Olympics: men's hockey, Canada-Czechia (12-02-2026)

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 Getting off the underground, and also in the Rogoredo area, I meet spectators from the previous match, many more Swiss than French. There is practically no queue for the shuttle bus: I get on straight away and even find a seat. The queue for security checks is also quick: I see that they have confiscated several long umbrellas. I usually carry a folding one in my rucksack and have never had any problems, but this time I didn't have my rucksack with me.

You see many more Czechs than Canadians, but also Finns, Slovaks, Americans and Germans. Or better: people wearing the jerseys of their respective teams—some of whom, I later heard, were actually Italian. The most common jersey is Cosby’s, but there are also classic ones, from Gretsky to (especially) Jagr. In the stands, there are a few more Canadians than it seemed from outside, but the Czechs clearly outnumber them. You can tell by the cheering: as the Canadian team enters, they receive more boos than applause, and at least for the first two periods, whenever the Canadians try to start a chant, they are overwhelmed by the Czechs.

I’m on the same side as yesterday, just in the opposite corner and two rows higher. Around me, there are a few more Canadians than Czechs. Behind me, there’s an American and a Finn, who will talk almost the whole time, even about Italy-Sweden: they’ll say that Italy’s strength is in the coach. The match starts, and in the first period, Czechs attack from my side. The play is very, very physical (really hard hits), definitely more so than yesterday. In the 8th minute, Canada scores on a fastbreak, but the goal is disallowed for an earlier foul, which results in a penalty. The Czechs gain confidence and, after an initial Canadian dominance, the match becomes more balanced. However, with five seconds left in the period, Canada takes the lead with a shot from outside, angled into the net.

During the first intermission, I think I’ll only be out for a short while, but I step outside into the courtyard (where I even see Qatari police officers—who knows what they’re doing at the Olympics) and make the ill-fated decision to get myself a coffee, which turns out not even to be that good: the wait is long, so I return to my seat when the second period has already been going for 53 seconds (but at least there haven’t been any goals yet). Canada attacks a bit more, even though the shots on goal will remain even, and after six minutes they score a scrappy goal, which I don’t see clearly because I’m busy following the speed skating results, where just seconds later Lollobrigida would win gold. With 2 minutes 30 seconds to go in the period, the Canadian Horvat picks up the puck in his own half, goes the length of the ice and scores, yet two assists are awarded: for a layman like me, that seems odd, even though I know that in hockey, the concept of an assist is broader than in soccer or basketball.

In the second intermission, I visit the section where I’ll be watching the women’s final (and later I’ll also see a men’s semi-final, exactly one row above my seat today): I discover that it’s exactly on the opposite side. This time, though, I manage to get back well before play resumes. In the third period, Canada runs away with it: they score twice more (and I can’t even tell where the last goal went in, not even on the replay), while the Czechs are never dangerous. From 4-0 onwards, you can only hear the Canadian supporters; only in the last few minutes do the Czechs try to rally, but there are only a few of them left. With three or four minutes to go, the arena starts to empty.

It ends 5-0, but unlike the other matches I’d seen so far, the count of shots on goal is more balanced than the scoreline: 36-26, and for much of the third period it was almost even. As soon as I leave, I connect to Discovery to catch the end of the luge relay, where we win bronze. The queue for the shuttles is shorter than usual. I already have to head for Livigno for tomorrow’s snowboard cross.