From the sparkling ice of the Olympic final to the hospital bed of a Nizhny Tagil hospital in the summer of 1987. Instead of the snow-white sands of Florida, a villa on the Gulf of Mexico and a captain's stripe in the best NHL team, there is a steel Ural sky and a one-room apartment. That's what fate has in store for me. But it was not for nothing that I was one of the best of my time. If there I became the one whose name was chanted by fans on both sides of the ocean, then I can do it again. Moreover, I have no other choice.