Some pictures last longer than the box score. One of them, on Sunday in Milan, was a smile—bloody, imperfect, distinctly victorious. Despite having no teeth, Jack Hughes was grinning as he stood at center ice with a gold medal around his neck. Perhaps no marketing department could have written it more effectively.
Hughes took a high stick halfway through the third period of the U.S. vs. Canada Olympic gold medal match. It was the kind of awkward, sharp contact that makes everyone on the bench flinch. There was blood when he skated away. NBC reported that two teeth were lost. He stayed on the bench, his face tightening but calm, his jaw clenched.
| Category | Details |
|---|---|
| Full Name | Jack Hughes |
| Born | May 14, 2001 – Orlando, Florida, U.S. |
| Position | Center |
| NHL Team | New Jersey Devils |
| Drafted | 1st Overall, 2019 NHL Draft |
| Olympic Achievement | 2026 Olympic Gold Medal – Overtime Winning Goal |
| Notable Moment | Lost two teeth in gold medal game vs. Canada |
| Official Profile | https://www.nhl.com/devils/player/jack-hughes-8481559 |
Dental damage has long been worn as a badge by hockey players. This, however, felt different. This was no arbitrary Newark January game. In the Olympics, they won a gold medal against Canada, a rivalry that has left emotional scars for decades.
Milan’s arena had already begun to vibrate. “Let’s Go Canada” and “U-S-A” chants had been resonating off the steel beams. The stands were peppered with Eruzione, Gretzky, and McDavid jerseys. Before dawn, bars had opened in Boston and Minneapolis. The stakes were obvious. Then came overtime.
Hughes collected the puck less than two minutes into the 3-on-3 play. It felt like the moment went on forever. After veering slightly to the left, he shot past Jordan Binnington. tidy. Hurry. decisive. There were ripples in the net. The boards were crowded with American players. Hughes’ face reappeared somewhere in that scrum, grinning broadly and missing some teeth.
This picture seems to be more memorable than the highlight itself.
Since he was selected first overall in 2019, Hughes, a player for the New Jersey Devils, has been hailed as a top talent. He has fast hands. His fluidity for skating. There’s no denying his hockey IQ. However, his story was still developing up until this point. Yes, a promising star. But not yet enshrined in the legends of Olympic heroes.
That might have been altered by the teeth.
The relationship between pain and sports culture is complex, particularly in hockey. Players use their bare ankles to block shots. They come back from fractures and concussions. In contrast, a few missing teeth almost seem archaic. Nevertheless, it has a strong visual presence. In the midst of perfection lies imperfection.
It was difficult to ignore how frequently the cameras panned in on Hughes during the medal ceremony. His smile would not go away. An uneven, gap-toothed smile that was completely real. Not a pose. Not well-polished.
There’s something about being vulnerable that deepens the resonance of victory. The iconic image of the 1980 “Miracle on Ice” team was amateurs defeating giants. There was no miracle here. One analyst described it as magic. However, magic frequently requires a human element to ground it.
Additionally, the larger context is important. Since NHL players started competing in the Olympic men’s hockey tournament in 1998, the United States had not defeated Canada for the gold medal. Canada had asserted its dominance in both 2002 and 2010. The competition had shifted to the north. For Hughes’ generation of American gamers, this was more than just a game—it was a way to correct the narrative.
The Americans survived thanks to Connor Hellebuyck’s heroics. The tone was set by Matt Boldy’s early goal. However, Hughes provided the last punctuation. And without two teeth, he accomplished it.
The duration of dental repairs is still unknown. Sports dentistry nowadays can be completed rapidly. Hughes’ smile might appear restored in a matter of days or weeks. But that picture of that unpolished smile, with the medal shining and the blood dried at the corners, will probably stick in your mind.
Moments like this resonate in a time when athletes are hyper-managed brands. They seem spontaneous. natural. Social media users made jokes about the tooth fairy showing up early. Others referred to it as an immortality sacrifice. Although the responses were lighthearted, there was sincere admiration underneath.
One of the few sports where the physical cost is still so obvious is hockey. Teeth loss during a game is uncommon among basketball players. Damage is hidden by football helmets. The mouthguard dangles in hockey, but it’s not always sufficient.
Hughes seemed to have an innate understanding of the symbolism. During interviews, he did not cover his mouth. He was not afraid of the camera. He chuckled. He bent over it. That is important.
This became more than a goal for the young players who watched, the fans who got up early to watch, and the nation that still compares Olympic hockey moments to 1980. It turned into a picture of talent layered on top of grit.
Not a miracle. Hughes later characterized the victory as “just a ballsy, gutsy win.” And maybe a spot in American hockey history is worth much more than two teeth.
Hughes stood at attention with his eyes steady and his jaw slightly crooked as the anthem played and the flags rose. When memories are relived, and stories are recounted decades from now, it’s difficult not to think that smile—imperfect, defiant, and unforgettable—will still be there.