The Gold Beneath The Gold

​Yesterday, Jack Hughes etched his name in American hockey history. With one shot, in one moment, he became an American sports hero. But, as is often the case, so much can get made of a highlight reel moment that we fail to see the beauty in the rest of the reel.

I am still in awe of the pass that Hughes made to his teammate Zach Werenski that set up the pass Werenski would then feed back to Hughes for his Olympic glory moment. In the Hughes pass, he reached with one arm around a defender and somehow forced the puck ahead to his teammate that he couldn't possibly see. At least looking at it through my non-Olympian eyes.

In the moment, the pass doesn't look like anything heroic - but we never fully know when a great pass is about to become an assist to Olympic heroism.

And this - all of this - happened not long after Hughes sat in the penalty box wondering if he was destined to be an Olympic villain. The U.S. had been in the middle of a power play when Hughes committed a high-sticking penalty that evened things up at 4-on-4. His mistake then forced his teammates to play a man down for over a minute of relentless Canadian pressure - all while the score was tied in the final of an Olympic gold medal game.

And then there is THIS. All of this was AFTER Hughes lost several teeth while being on the receiving end of an opponent's stick to his mouth. I lose teeth in a bloody shot to my face and I'm on my way to an oral surgeon; Hughes gets up from the ice and glides toward Olympic glory.

My point is - and this is for me and maybe many of us - not Olympic heroes - because I think Olympic heroes get this - but our big 'frame it and hang it on the living room wall moments' are almost always about more than that frameable moment.

A pass is never just a pass.

Momentary moments of feeling like a villain can often be the prelude to moments of being carried around with a flag draped over our shoulders.

And blood and sweat and tears and missing teeth don't always have to signal the end of the day - sometimes they can signal that it's time to keep moving toward our big moment.

A moment is never just a moment. A moment is always an introduction to the next moment.

I was a high school sophomore sitting on a girlfriend's couch when I watched the last American gold medal hockey miracle; this all the way back in 1980. Sitting there then, how could I have possibly known that over four decades later I'd be sitting many states away - alone on my couch in my one bedroom apartment - so much in life having changed in between - watching the next American hockey gold medal miracle?

I couldn't have. That's the answer. I couldn't have known.

We never know what future moment our right now moment is contributing to. But we should always know - this moment is not the end of the story. It is a picture; the frame may be waiting for us in the future.

And we can always know this: that in reading the story of this right now moment - there is always more to the story than the gold medal moment. More that doesn't erase the gold, but often makes it all the more golden.

You'll get a lot of moments this week. Don't underestimate your power to turn them to gold.