I’ve seen enough of these USA Hockey Olympic rosters to know the ending before the credits roll. Forty-four names were dropped Tuesday for what they’re calling an “orientation camp” in Plymouth. Translation: a few days in a hotel ballroom, no ice, no sticks, just endless PowerPoint slides and stale coffee. The Americans haven’t won gold since 1980, and you can see why — they think slogans on a whiteboard beat Canada’s talent.
But buried in that bloated list of NHL millionaires and overhyped stars is the one name that matters up here: Neal Pionk of Hermantown. Our guy. A small-town defenseman who was told ten different times in ten different ways he wasn’t big enough, smooth enough, shiny enough to make it. And yet there he is, on the same piece of paper as Auston Matthews and Patrick Kane. If you want a reason to care about this traveling circus, it’s him.
Because let’s be honest, the rest of this group is a rerun. The goalies? Hellebuyck, Oettinger, Swayman, Daccord — good players, sure, but history tells us one of them will turn into a brick wall against Latvia and then give up the softest goal of his career when it actually matters. We’ve seen this script.
The defense? Adam Fox, Seth Jones, the Hughes brothers, McAvoy, Werenski, even Ryan McDonagh still being trotted out like it’s a reunion tour. They’ve all got contracts longer than a Duluth winter and just as dreary. Pionk’s the exception. He’s not flashy, he’s not a brand, he’s not getting an energy drink commercial. He’s just a blue-collar guy who plays like the puck still owes him money.
The forwards? Matthews will fill the net in the prelims and vanish in the medal round. Eichel will pout when the cameras aren’t on him. Kane will milk the nostalgia tour. The Tkachuks will pound their chests and then take the world’s worst penalty at the world’s worst moment. Same as it ever was.
USA Hockey already locked in six guys months ago — Matthews, Eichel, Quinn Hughes, McAvoy and both Tkachuks — as if that’s ever been the problem. We’ve been handing roster spots to the marketing department for decades, and we’ve been going home empty for just as long. Since Lake Placid, the U.S. has lived off one miracle while racking up 40-plus years of excuses.
And yet here’s Pionk, who was never supposed to make it this far, sitting on that list. He’ll block shots, he’ll throw his body in front of pucks, he’ll play like he doesn’t care about endorsements or status or how he looks on camera. Which is more than I can say for half this roster.
So if you’re asking me, the only reason Minnesotans should bother watching this American soap opera is Pionk. Forget Matthews’ scoring titles and Kane’s farewell tour. If there’s any shot of ending 44 years of Olympic heartbreak, it’s going to come from a grinder with Hermantown roots, not the pre-ordained stars.
The rest? Just window dressing. Same old USA Hockey — all hype, all hope, and no gold.
