The tiny village was named after its tranquil little lake. My dictionary defines placid as serene, gentle, calm.

Writing last week’s column about the 1980 Olympics brought back memories that were anything but peaceful. The downtown streets were loud, crowded and fun. It doesn’t seem possible that four and a half decades have slid by since easy-going Lake Placid played host.

I was reminded of those many years as Scott Hamilton remarked about this year’s figure skating competition in Italy. When we saw his Olympic debut in Lake Placid, he was 21 years old and stood at his tallest – just shy of 5-foot-3. A childhood brain tumor had stunted his growth. In later years, three more brain tumors plus a complicated cancer challenged his life. But here he was – an Olympian and multiple World Champion dressed in a natty suit and all smiles – a gentleman not looking anywhere near his 68 years. He spent a lifetime overcoming so much and yet his adult years were devoted to giving back – to skating, to cancer research, to stricken children. Watching him again, I realized how much I’ve long admired him. This man stands tall.

Also, at this year’s Olympics is another familiar name – Eric Heiden. At the 1980 games, he won five speedskating gold medals – a winter Olympics’ first, and a record to this day. Only swimmer Michael Phelps holds more gold for a single Olympics, but that was for the summer games. I think Heiden was remembered as much for his enormous thighs as for his wins!

At Stanford medical school, he became an orthopedic surgeon serving a long, distinguished career in sports medicine.

Seeing these admirable men somehow tied me closer to their Olympic events this year. I’ve been watching the games on the television, but my memories are playing in tandem. This year, a young American speedskater is challenging Heiden’s record. And America’s heavily favored men’s figure skating champion had his worst possible day. Ilia Malinin, both U.S. and World Figure Skating champ, finished eighth.

As we watched his performance fall apart, I turned to Dear Richard and said, “He blew it.” A lifelong figure skating junkie, I’ve never seen a champion fold that badly. When the camera focused on Ilia collapsing on the coach, he moaned, “I blew it.” Heartbreaking. Yes. But for me, one of the great lessons of sports: “On any given day….”

Whether it’s a quarterback, a pitcher, or a goalie … or a golfer, tennis player, or ski jumper, any given day can spell disaster. Or a championship.

Speaking of championships, 1980 will forever be remembered for “The miracle on ice.” That event will always have a second memory for me. Tom and I were lucky to have scored tickets to six figure skating events. They are the hardest to come by because the assigned-seat Olympic venue is always the smallest. We were still able to see some skiing plus one little bonus – the tip-top of the figure skating arena overlooked the speedskating rink. Cha-ching! We didn’t have extra time or ticket money for speed skating, but we saw much of it anyway!

Applying for Olympic tickets has no guarantees. You might apply for ten events and get one! A Warren couple had only one pair of hockey tickets, for Feb. 22 that year. They decided not to go and asked us to buy them or sell them at Lake Placid. We went for a week, returning home on the 20th, so we couldn’t use them. I tried to sell them the first day to our housemates. No takers. The Russians were heavy favorites, and with the U.S. ranked seventh, no one was interested.

And who knew who would be playing on the 22nd? It could easily be Czechoslovakia vs Finland – no one knew. I tried hawking the tickets in restaurants, bars, and on the street. I tried with strangers of every nationality. Finally, I sold them the night before we left. The fan offered me half price, and I had to bargain my way up to face value. I was relieved.

But the story wasn’t over. They turned out to be the tickets to Russia vs the United States! We didn’t know until after we’d left. The most-coveted Olympic event turned out to be the ones I couldn’t sell for a week.

The original ticket owner was not very happy. He assumed he would be making hundreds or even thousands of dollars. I tried to explain what the atmosphere was like. Eventually, he understood but I always felt like I failed him somehow.

With a few friends adding to the screaming, we watched that exciting game at home. The camera work was excellent. And of course, the outcome was truly a miracle. Our excited family room was anything but placid.

To this day — unforgettable.

Marcy O’Brien can be reached at Moby.32@hotmail.com.