It Still Stings

By Jonathan Goldbloom

The Canadian Men’s and Women’s Hockey teams came to Milan dialled in on gold — and came up short, twice, in overtime, against the Americans, despite playing on par or better throughout. And the sting sharpened with the remarks that followed from south of the 49th parallel.

It will take time. But I’d rather spend these words on the moments that made me proud to be Canadian. There were many.

Milan Cortina 2026 presented a logistical puzzle: the Games were scattered across multiple sites throughout northern Italy. Hockey, figure skating, and speed skating occupied Milan proper, but the venues were far-flung, with one rink a temporary structure inside an exhibition centre. There was an Olympic flame, but it was hard to find. There were no natural gathering points like the ones we’d known in Calgary and Vancouver, where athletes, families, and fans could find each other and share in the spirit of something larger than themselves.

Hockey Canada, Skate Canada and Speed Skating Canada decided to fill that void. In December — just two months before the Opening Ceremony — we committed to creating the Hockey Canada Ice Palazzo. What followed was a remarkable feat of execution: a team created, from scratch, exactly the kind of gathering place the Games needed. By the time the puck dropped, it had become a true hub for athletes from all three sports and the nearly one thousand family members and friends who’d made the journey to cheer them on.

The moments that I witnessed or were shared with me are vivid. Wayne Gretzky watching the women’s final on the big screen, riveted, and even signing his autograph with “Go Canada Go” on a picture of himself competing as an Olympian in 1998. Our para-hockey team crowding around to cheer the men in the gold medal game. Laurent Duvernay-Tardif taking a spin on the outdoor rink, grinning. Billie Jean King joining us to celebrate the extraordinary rise of the PWHL. And Mikaël Kingsbury — quietly, almost shyly — showing his gold medal to fans who could barely contain themselves.

But it was on the ice and in the hallways of competition where our athletes showed us what being Canadian truly means.

Our women’s hockey team postponed their opener when the Finnish squad fell ill with norovirus — choosing sportsmanship over an easy default win. Sidney Crosby and the entire Canadian men’s team left the bench and lined up in silence to honour the injured Kevin Fiala as he was carried off the ice on a stretcher. Our women chose to forego the closing ceremony to cheer on Crosby, Marchand, and the team in the gold medal game instead. And Marie-Philip Poulin — as she waited for the medal ceremony to begin — walked the line and hugged each of her teammates, one by one.

I was there when Piper Gilles and Paul Poirier took the ice for their free dance. After fifteen years skating together, three Olympics, and a road that had taken them through loss and illness and relentless belief, they delivered the skate of their lives to win bronze. I didn’t plan to stand. I was on my feet before I knew it — and so was everyone around me.

That’s what these Games do to you, if you let them. Something opens you up, and reminds you what people are capable of when they’ve devoted years of quiet faith to a single, beautiful pursuit.

We didn’t win gold on the hockey ice. But we won it everywhere else.

Our athletes are role models — not for what they won, but for how they competed, how they showed up for each other, and how they made millions of Canadians feel proud of who we are.

And as for the Americans: see you in Nice. Four years from now, we’ll be ready.

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Jonathan Goldbloom lives in Montreal and is the Chairman of the Board of Hockey Canada.