Hockey players (and fans, and coaches) love to hand out retribution, and they’re not ashamed of that at all. “Tough guys” will proudly admit that their job is to send a message, and further, they don’t need a good reason to back up their actions. It could be a dirty hit, or it could be clean bodycheck; it could be uncalled-for taunting, or it could be nothing more than superior play. The goal is to keep one’s pride intact, and if you can’t do that on the scoreboard, then do it with your fists, your stick, or whatever else you can think of.
But this isn’t the hockey attitude that Don Anderson recommends in his memoir, Hockey That Changed the World and Me. Take this story, for example:
When I played intermediate hockey, I recall a goalie who, when you came near the net (or cage, as some called it) had such a temper that he would shove his stick in your gut or swing at the back of your legs. Worst of all he would swing his stick across your back if you scored. We became incensed when the referee ignored this man and the more we complained the less attention the referee paid.
We decided to fire the puck from about 12 to 15 feet outside the front of the goal. Our strategy paid off. We never went close enough for him to hit us. He was a very weak shot blocker, and with nobody near him to hit he became a human sieve.
As long as he could hit somebody with his stick he had players psyched out. When he couldn’t hit we began scoring and he became a frustrated goaltender. He quit hockey shortly thereafter and never played again. (pages 55-56)
When I first started playing hockey (at the age of five), we were taught not to retaliate when someone wronged us. Instead, our coaches told us, get even on the scoreboard.
I know this attitude still exists somewhere in hockey. But why is it that nearly everything I read pretends that this option no longer exists? Why has the boundary between tough and brutal grown blurry? I’m all for good, solid bodychecks. I’d even applaud a player who fought in defense of his teammate. But nobility is fading fast from hockey, replaced by an attitude of vengeance and pride—the kind of pride, even, that has cost great warriors of old their lives.
What are we fighting for?
Tags: Don Anderson, fighting in hockey, hockey enforcer, nobility, Violence in Hockey
