Let's start this rambling appreciation with a simple stipulation: the Miracle on Ice can never be replicated.

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Never. Some moments are just too perfect.

We can never (hopefully) bring back the Soviet menace or the Cold War mentality that provided the backdrop to the Lake Placid stunner. We can never recreate the epic mismatch of no-name (until then) college kids upsetting the invincible Red Army professionals. We can't reinvent the pre-cable environment that allowed collective appreciation of universally shared moments.

In 30 years, no hockey game -- maybe no sporting event -- has come close to gripping the consciousness of the American audience. There are probably some who had never seen a hockey game before and haven't seen one since. As one-and-dones go, it was unbeatable.

But -- if you were somehow able to find and watch Sunday night's United States vs. Canada hockey match that took place deep in the triple digits of your cable dial -- for a few fleeting moments the adrenaline felt a little bit like 1980 all over again.

Of course, the Canadians are way too nice to be considered a stand-in for the Soviets. And our NHL stars are way too talented to be confused with Eruzione, Craig and Co. But when something hasn't happened in 50 years -- and it happens on the home ice of the nation attributed with creating the game and even honors it on currency, it stands out.

The Americans defeated Team Canada 5-3 in a classic preliminary game in Vancouver to usurp the favored road in the medal rounds. Just like 30 years ago in Lake Placid, it won't mean all that much if the Yanks don't follow through and claim the gold, but it was special nonetheless. And if they meet the Canadians again, set your DVR.

NBC might even deem it worthy enough to show on the big network. Maybe.

I clearly could never be a TV executive because I simply can't comprehend how simple American tastes must be. The whole reality TV movement lost me.

I don't like American Idol , I loathe Survivor and I only watched one episode of Dancing With the Stars while a guest at a friend's house (it was apparently not to be missed).

In my house, the only reality show to take root is The Amazing Race , a habit which caused me to missed the second period of Sunday night's hockey showdown. The Amazing Race doesn't use judges. The team that gets from Point A to Point B the fastest wins. The slowest is eliminated. I get that. It's a race. It doesn't matter what the French judge thinks about their artistic merit.

So naturally, if I were the chief executive of NBC Sports, the ice dancing would not have been the choice for the primetime network programming while the U.S.-Canada hockey game got banished to Nunavut (that would be the Canadian equivalent of Siberia for those not interested in Googling it).

One of the most anticipated events of the Olympics got relegated to MSNBC -- a network that along with Fox News has been deleted from the system so children might never stumble across such nonsense. It required considerable time and energy to resurrect it with the remote control just to watch this hockey game.

And boy was it worth it. There is perhaps nothing better in sports than the frantic pace of desperation hockey -- and this game had that vibe even if it was just a preliminary match to determine seeding.

Not since 1960 in Squaw Valley have the Americans beaten the Canadians on the Olympic stage. And while we're sweeping up medals at an alarming rate in their country, this nonmedal game is the coolest thing that's happened thus far in these Winter Games.

Every second of Sunday's game that I saw was exhilarating, but the last 10 minutes after the Americans had taken a two-goal lead were edge-of-the-sofa intense. Canada cut it to one in the waning seconds of a power play when Sidney Crosby redirected a centering pass by Ryan Miller, and the decibel level of that place could practically be felt through the TV 2,400 miles away.

For the next three minutes, Miller did what great goalies do -- he stood on his head. Perhaps my favorite term in all of sports, to stand on one's head is the ultimate compliment of a goalkeeper. It simply means the guy was practically contorting to block a seemingly endless string of shots and rebounds peppering the crease. The term dates back to 1918, when the NHL changed its rules to allow goaltenders to leave their feet to make a save. The NHL chief, Frank Calder, supposedly said goalies could "stand on their heads if they wanted to."

The call of commentator Ed Olczyk is less likely to assume a place beside "Do you believe in miracles?" -- but it was classic verbal summation of a classic game nonetheless .

After the U.S. sealed the deal in the closing minute with a slick empty-netter, Olczyk's vocabulary apparently shut down. The best he could do was spit out, "This has been tremendously tremendous!"

No miracle, but tremendously tremendous, indeed.