My lady and I went to see Miracle yesterday. Movies rarely move me, as most of them have about as much substance as a steaming pile of elephant dung and before yesterday I could count only three instances in twenty eight years of popular cinema viewing where I was touched emotionally:

1. The Empire Strikes Back. After battling Darth Vader in an epic Jedi light saber duel, the handless Luke Skywalker scales the flimsy scaffolding of a weather station high atop Bespin while Vader questions the brash youngster (equipped only with his bad haircut now) about his family tree. Luke learns that Vader is his father. Ridden with denial and hurt, Skywalker jumps from the scaffolding into the abyss of the gas colony.
   
2. Planet of the Apes (Original). Chuck Heston is riding down the beach on his trusty stead with hot piece of mute ass Nova clinging to his back after the apes have freed him. He comes upon an ancient sculpture and stops. He dismounts the horse, falls to his knees, grasps at the wet sand, looks up to the sky and damns all of humanity. Camera pans out to reveal the ancient sculpture is in fact the Statue of Liberty.
3. Deer Hunter. Robert DeNiro, Christopher Walken and a game of Russian roulette. "Didi Mow!"
   

Now Miracle has officially made my list. After standing on his head for the 1980 Olympic medal round and defeating a Soviet team that had won the gold medal for twenty straight years, net minder Jimmy Craig skates to center ice looking for his father in the crowd after he wins the gold medal. "Where is my Dad?!" "He is right there, Jimmy." Fuckin' A.

Labels: hockey, movies, pop culture, wife