He was stubborn, innovative, aggravating, brilliant and -- most important of all -- deserving of being defined by so much more than one amazing Olympiad in Lake Placid 23 years ago.

Herb Brooks was symbolic of USA Hockey, and that means his impact was felt as much (and maybe more) on the ice at 6 a.m. practices on scarce ice in Minnesota and Massachusetts as it was in NCAA and Olympic hockey, as well as in the NHL.

He was one of the reasons for the van pools.

He helped create a mind-set in which his own 1980 players, and then Brian Leetch and Tony Granato and Pat Lafontaine and Mike Modano and Jeremy Roenick, dared to dream and audaciously select hockey as their primary athletic endeavor.

A decade ago, we lost "Badger Bob" Johnson too young because of cancer.

This is the second punch of the combination.

Those in the Patrick family -- and coincidentally Brooks finished his career working for Craig Patrick in Pittsburgh -- were pioneers.

Later, Brooks and Johnson represented the spirit of the game in this country.

Brooks was an Olympic player when the sport was neither fashionable nor potentially lucrative for Americans. And when he went into coaching, he helped add to the tradition of a University of Minnesota program that had kids from St. Paul to International Falls dreaming of being Gophers.

Long before he coached that group of young Americans to the victory in the 1980 Olympics -- a victory that is the rare example of an accomplishment that hasn't been and can't be exaggerated beyond recognition -- Brooks displayed passion for the sport that didn't have to be validated under a spotlight. In that sense, the death of the 66-year-old American hockey icon Monday in an automobile accident near the Twin Cities is lessened if we focus on Lake Placid alone. Or if we allow what he meant to the sport in this country to be diminished even infinitesimally by his mediocre NHL coaching career.

At the levels where he could truly make a difference, where he was important in lives more so than in careers, he was one of the greatest. That means he deserves to be mentioned with the greatest college and amateur coaches of all time in the United States, in any sport. That's why he probably has more in common in terms of impact with men such as John Wooden, Darrell Royal and Bear Bryant than with, say, Toe Blake and Scotty Bowman. It wasn't about college hockey but about a career of involvement in American hockey.

Doesn't that mean more than whether the Rangers or the Penguins or the North Stars or the Devils beat the Blues on a Tuesday night, or anything that happened in the Stanley Cup playoffs?

On this side of the border, or this side of the Atlantic, at least, it does.

Or at least it should.

Time after time, as American hockey figures gave their reactions Monday, from the 1980 players to NHL figures such as Granato and Patrick, the shock resonated. Herb Brooks at least would have liked this: They all were talking about a man but also about his sport and his country because -- and this is the supreme compliment -- there was no way to separate them.

NHL commissioner Gary Bettman got it right when he called Brooks "a consummate teacher, an unparalleled motivator and an unquestioned innovator."

USA Hockey President Ron DeGregorio, a one-time Brooks teammate, said Brooks was "a great innovator and motivator ... We, as an organization, were hoping to do more things with Herb in the future. It's a sad day for hockey."

"His candle burned out much too soon," said USA Hockey chairman of the board Walter L. Bush Jr., "but his success will live on in the people he touched."

Indeed, Brooks was so much more than a guy behind an NHL bench.

Don't misinterpret that. Brooks was a damn good NHL coach with a mediocre (three games under .500) record, and mediocre records often have more to do with the merits of the organizations than with the men behind the benches.

He always was a damn good NHL coach, and he would have been again if he had decided to stay behind the bench at Pittsburgh, or to sign on for a second tenure with the Rangers, or otherwise to succumb to the sirens.

Over the years, he adapted, and that even showed when he did a solid job with the stars at Salt Lake City last year -- and not long after his public stance that he wasn't wild about the NHL pros playing under the Olympic rings.

But in the NHL, it really couldn't be the same. The coach's powers remained dictatorial only in terms of short-term authority, but that authority could be undercut by the knowledge that the league treats its coaches with the respect afforded disposable razors. The zeroes on the players' paychecks are the scorecards and the medals for so many. That was the case when Brooks entered the NHL, and it's the case now.

In one way, Mike Eruzione was the smartest one of all. He knew it couldn't get any better. He became a professional celebrity. There's nothing wrong with that, and he has been productive and influential in various occupational roles. But the players from that team who went on to the NHL -- whether Ken Morrow and Mark Johnson or Dave Silk and Bill Baker -- unavoidably were subjected to having their professional experiences modify their images.

That's part of the point. Herb Brooks went on, too, and his lifetime in the sport is a body of work we all should salute. Absolutely, his death wouldn't have been the banner-headline, bulletin material it was Monday if, say, the kids at Lake Placid had played a gritty game but lost to the Soviets because Vladislav Tretiak stood on his head. That victory meant so much to USA hockey -- so much, it's probably immeasurable. Brooks didn't do it alone.

But next time you see another rink finished in a suburb, credit Herb Brooks with the setup assist.

And then step inside and see a coach who loves the sport at work, whether he's a plumbing contractor doing a great job of coaching his own son's team or a young former player trying to begin a climb through the ranks. Bob Johnson will be watching in one corner, Herb Brooks in another. If you look hard enough.

Terry Frei is a regular contributor to ESPN.com. His book, Simon and Schuster's "Horns, Hogs, and Nixon Coming," (link) is available nationwide.