Pioneers enjoy golden years

TURIN, Italy -- When they line up by age for some of the sports psychology stuff they do, that's when the Class of 1998 realizes how quickly eight years have passed.

''We used to be at the beginning," says Katie King. ''And now, we're at the end."

That's how it is for the Original Four, the sole survivors from the US women's hockey team that won the first Olympic gold medal in the sport at Nagano. Some of their teammates are young enough to be their nieces, if not their daughters.

''I do a lot of hockey schools in the summer and it's really weird," says defenseman Angela Ruggiero. ''The girls are 10 or 12 years old. 'I remember seeing you play,' they'll say. That's kind of humbling."

That wasn't possible for the 31-year-old Tricia Dunn-Luoma or the 30-year-old King or the 26-year-old Ruggiero or the 27-year-old Jenny Potter, who has her own 5-year-old daughter now. When they first laced up skates, their role models were male by default.

''You wanted to be in the NHL," remembers Dunn-Luoma, who was born when Bobby Orr was still playing for the Bruins. ''You wanted to be Wayne Gretzky or whoever."

Even after Title IX became law in 1972, it took a couple of decades for many colleges to add women's hockey to their programs, and there wasn't a world championship until 1990. The players on those early national teams, like Cindy Curley and Tina Cardinale and Kelly Dyer, were the pioneers, largely unknown and unsung. But when the sport was added to the Olympic Games two quadrennia ago, Dunn-Luoma and her colleagues suddenly found themselves on center stage.

''We had no idea," she says. ''We were just doing what we loved to do, and fortunately for us, we came along at the right time. It was 1998 and it was an Olympic sport and there we were, ready to go."

What happened at Nagano was a gilded fantasy. The Canadians had owned the game, winning every global title. But on one wondrous night, the Americans had their number, winning the final by a 3-1 count and going back to the athletes' village with gold medals hanging from their necks.

It wasn't until the players phoned home that they realized the magnitude of what they'd achieved.

''My mom said, 'You have no idea what's going on back here,' " Dunn-Luoma remembers. ''I said, 'What do you mean?' When you're in the middle of it, you have no idea."

When they got back to the States, the players realized that they'd become overnight icons, much as the Boys of Winter were in 1980 after beating the Soviets in Lake Placid. It wasn't just the gold medal, it was the back story, the girl next door who'd grown up rink-ratting with her big brothers, who had to play on boys teams if she could find a team at all, who was playing the game purely for the love of it.

They'd gone to Japan as forwards and defensemen and goalies. They returned as role models, as bedroom posters.

''This was the first time that young girls had something tangible," says Dunn-Luoma, a Derry, N.H., native who coauthored an instructional hockey book with King. ''I want to be Sara DeCosta. I want to be Cammi Granato. We had something they could see and latch onto and cheer for. That's what they aspired to be."

The gold medal was a booster rocket for girls' hockey programs, especially with the next Games at Salt Lake City. For the Nagano veterans, it wasn't just about winning, it was also about building the sport and leaving a legacy, just as the women's soccer team did in 1996 and 1999. It only seemed natural that all but a half-dozen of them would be back for Salt Lake.

Losing to the Canadians, 3-2, on their home ice, after they'd beaten their northern neighbors in every tuneup, was a shock. Four years came down to one game again, and this time the result went the other way.

''That's the crazy thing," muses Ruggiero, who has just written an autobiography. ''You can be 35-0 and 8-0 against Canada, show up for the final, and not win. That's the Olympics."

Watching the maple leaf flag go up, hearing, ''O, Canada!" played, accepting the silver medal -- all of it stung more than the Americans imagined it would. But was it enough of a spur to sign on for another four years, to get a shot at payback in Italy?

''I thought that might come into play, but when it came down to making the decision, it didn't matter," says Dunn-Luoma. ''It was where my heart was and where my passion still lies. I thought the gold medal mattered, but ultimately, it didn't matter."

For all of them, those who retired and those who stayed on, it was a personal choice.

''You have to respect each individual and where they are in their lives, where they are with the game and how passionate they still are about it," says Dunn-Luoma. ''Just because I'm still passionate doesn't mean that somebody else still is. You have to do it because you want to."

King couldn't imagine quitting. ''This sport is so inbred in me," says the Salem, N.H., native. ''I love going out every day to skate and compete and battle."

Ruggiero, who still had a couple of years left at Harvard, was good to go, too. ''I was the youngest on the 1998 team and in 2002 I was below the average," she says. ''So it was an easy choice for me."

Even Potter, who'd played in the Games a year after giving birth, wanted a third shot. ''The love of the game," she says. ''I will do anything to play hockey. I've always aspired to be one of the best players in the world and to be part of great teams like this and win a gold medal."

The challenge, for Potter and the rest of the postgraduates, was where to lace up. ''That's the hardest part of women's hockey right now," says Ruggiero, who last winter became the first female non-goalie to play in a US men's professional game when she suited up alongside brother Bill for the Tulsa Oilers in the Central Hockey League. ''You see players getting better and better into their mid-to-late 20s, just like the men, but the women don't have anywhere to play."

Other than the Canadian league, the best option often has been suiting up in beer leagues with the men.

''I go to as many as I can," says King, who is an assistant coach at Boston College. ''Whether it's the T's Pub guys or the Chowderheads or the Titans. Most of the time, it's pretty good hockey. You have to make sure that you can keep up that level when you come back to this team. We're competing against college kids who are on the ice all the time, so it's definitely a challenge."

It wasn't quite that way a decade ago, when coach Ben Smith was collecting candidates for the inaugural Olympic team. ''It was 'Calling All Cars,' " he remembers. ''Will someone with skates report to the Walpole rink?" This time, there were 40 candidates for the 23 spots on the training team, and 11 of them were previous Olympians.

Having a gold medal from last year's world championships guaranteed nothing, Smith said. Nor did medals from the last two Winter Games. ''It doesn't matter how many teams I've made, I have to make the team myself," Potter says. ''I have to go to that meeting and wait for my name to be called."

When the list was read, two prominent names were missing: Granato, the greatest player in American history, and Shelley Looney, who scored the winning goal against the Canadians in 1998. Their time had come, Smith said. There simply wasn't room on the roster.

''One of the things you're going to find with this sport," Smith says, ''is that it's going to get younger."

Ruggiero was 17 when she made her first team and she quickly became a fixture.

''Would I make it today? I don't know," she says. ''If the 1998 team played the 2006 team, the 2006 team would definitely win. Which is good for the sport."

More than half of this squad, including four defensemen and both goalies, are Olympic rookies, which makes Ruggiero and her fellow three-timers valuable wise women to have along.

''Just the little things," says captain Krissy Wendell. ''The experience. Knowing what to expect."

The Original Four remember how awed they were when they first turned up for a national camp, dressing next to their elders. ''I was afraid of Shelley," says King. ''I was, 'Oh my God, that's Shelley Looney.' Now, it happens with the younger kids. I say, 'You're afraid of me?' "

Sarah Parsons, the Dover native who's the team's youngest player, was 10 when she watched King and Potter and Ruggiero and Dunn-Luoma win the gold in Nagano. When she made last year's team, fresh off the Noble & Greenough varsity, the idea of sitting next to Granato in a locker room left Parsons dumbstruck.

''We were at a youth-league thing," says Smith, ''and I said, 'See that kid, Sarah? You'll be playing with her in 2014.' "