A people can only take so much before they break. You see it much more on an individual basis; one person’s stress leading to a breakdown for example, but when it comes to a group bound by powerful and emotional shared experiences they are just as susceptible. Sport can be that kind of shared experience. Across the world, sport is a unifying force. Communities cheering together, nations joined as one voice and one team. It doesn’t take much to identify with the team, and as a result sport can take on entirely new meanings, beyond the game, for better or for worse.

This story begins in S19. The IIHF is undergoing a period of change. To give the IIHF more permanency, certain regulations are brought into effect: dual nationalities, federation heads, normalized recruitment, world rankings and a vastly different scheduling system that would rely on friendlies and qualifiers in the middle of the season, determining who qualifies for the biennial IIHF championship, which itself would be replaced every fourth season by an Olympic competition. Of all these important organization decisions, there was yet another to make: the weighty decision of which nations would join the league.

It was determined that the league would be composed of twelve nations, eight of which already existed within the previous international structure. These eight teams were: Canada, the United States, Finland, Sweden, Germany, Russia, Latvia, and the United Kingdom. The remaining four teams would be a challenge, as no nation had the manpower nor the infrastructure to support a team at the time. Thus, an application process was opened up for select nations that had at least some of the pieces, notably a number of players. These available teams were: the Czech Republic, Slovakia, Poland, Ukraine, Norway, Switzerland, France, Italy, and Austria. Italy, Ukraine, and Poland went without an application and their bids for teams ended. The teams that received substantial support during this process were Norway and Austria and, surprisingly, a strong and proud youth movement from Ireland meant that they too would be given a team, the penultimate. The last spot remained in contention between the Czech, Slovak, Swiss, and French delegations, but a bold move by Clyde Arrowny of the Czech Republic and Marek Vyskoč of Slovakia presented an intriguing solution. They proposed a union of the two federations, one that is historically and culturally not out of the question, but most importantly, with both teams having nine players, it was practical.

Thus, Czechoslovakia was reborn, at least in a joint hockey federation. Made up mostly of no-names and rookies (notable exceptions being SHL mainstays Marian Potoczny, Ondrej Ravchitikov, Walter White, and starting goaltender Mike Verminski), Czechoslovakia was off to a slow start. The dark horse Irish certainly were not, winning gold in just their third World Championship, an incredible feat considering the team was mostly made of 20-somethings, many of whom still signed to entry level contracts. Czechoslovakia, inspired by this small-team Cinderella story, took to the ice in S25 with their own first gold medal in sight. First they faced those inspiring Irish and won in overtime. Next, they faced the juggernaut Canadians who would medal in the IIHF’s first seven tournaments, appearing in four straight finals. That streak, however, would come to an end in the second overtime. Finally, all that remained in the path to gold were the Latvians. Latvia as a whole was on the tail-end of a golden era with several SHL greats dotting the roster and fortunately they would punctuate the end of an era with yet another gold. They’ve yet to win another.

The Czechoslovaks too would face a slippery slope. The rest of the S20’s and early S30’s were not kind to them. Legends would come and go, passing through the revolving door of Czechia with not a gold to show. Sachimo Zoidberg, Zalleras Szlercheck, Aviad Ratzon, Patrik Šatan, Schnitinfritz Jagr, Pierre-Luc Laflamme, Slappy McDoodle, Christoffer Bjornsson, Samee Iqbal, Alexander Zajac, Dionyz Vyskoc, Alex Winters, Brady McIntyre and Demaricus Smyth  A silver in S32, a bronze in S49, and a rebrand to represent the changing demographic of the team (now known as just “Czechia”). The S50’s brought a new hope with them. Armed with a golden generation, now playing throughout the SHL, the Czechs would push to earn their first gold. Silver in S53, bronze in S54.

While the scope and impact of the team, its players and its performance is well known and captured, little has been said about how the Czech people have fared. The desperation, the sorrow, the emptiness. Have they felt it too? Do they identify with the pride of the nation? Have the team’s struggles become theirs? These have been a long forty years. Generations have passed, and all for what? A couple silvers? The questions “How much is enough?” and “How far are you willing to go?” hang in the air. Then tension during every medal round appearance is palpable. Prague becomes a ghost town, accessible only in bars, the Old Town Square, and any other venue where the nation’s citizens may congregate to watch the games transpire, everyone to answer another question: “Is this the year?”. Finally we come to S59, where the future of a nation hangs in the balance, for better or for worse. Once again the air is so thick you could cut it with a knife. All the nation gathers around their televisions and their screens to watch the games, but all the while, questions are asked: How far would you go? How much is enough?