There are moments, and then there are moments, and then, once in a blue moon, the universe hands you two of them in quick succession. Sports rarely cooperate like this; we’re conditioned to expect the heartbreak, the almost, the close‑but‑not‑quite. But last week, we got it all.

On Thursday, minutes after Hilary Knight tied the game for the United States in the waning moments of regulation, Megan Keller dropped an all-time dangle around a Canadian defender and backhanded an Olympic-winning golden goal into the net. Chaos and celebration ensued in our living room, as I had serendipitously taken the day off.

And as wild as Keller’s finish was, the foundation for the entire run was Aerin Frankel, Team USA’s Jewish goaltender, who stopped 30 of 31 shots in the final to cap off a tournament for the ages. Three shutouts, a 5–0 record, a 0.39 goals‑against average, and a .980 save percentage. As my son would say: Is that good?

It’s very good.

Except we weren’t done yet. Because on Sunday, 46 years to the day after the Miracle on Ice, Jack Hughes fired a rocket past Jordan Binnington for an Olympic-winning overtime golden goal of his own, sending American hockey fans into jubilation for the second time in three days. Despite being generally outplayed by the Canadians, the U.S. rode the otherworldly netminding of Connor Hellebuyck all the way to Olympic glory. Jack Hughes? Oh yes, one of us. As is his brother, Quinn, who rifled home the overtime winner against Sweden in the quarterfinal a few days earlier.

And they weren’t alone. American Jews medaled across the Games: Emery Lehman in speed skating, Jeremy Swayman with the men’s hockey team, and Korey Dropkin in curling; a remarkable collection of performances.

So cue up “Free Bird.” Wave your flags. Celebrate a double dose of history. Watch the videos time and time again. Get welled up when Johnny Gaudreau’s kids were on the ice. Pinch yourself because you saw it happen; you’ll never forget this. At the same time, celebrate that these athletes being Jewish is both beautifully ordinary and quietly extraordinary.

But, most importantly, remember that while 1980 will always be the “Miracle on Ice,” this double-gold-medal-overtime-golden-goal-bonanza was most definitely not a miracle.

This was a manifestation. Of American excellence, of Jewish excellence, and of the simple, spectacular fact that greatness is even sweeter when it looks like you.

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