Was It Not Always This Way?

Riffing on Bob McKenzie’s recent piece on dangerous hits in hockey, Tom Benjamin writes,

McKenzie does miss a key point when he wonders why this type of hit has become so accepted in the game. It is not because the game has become more about hitting and “finishing the check”. It is because the game has become more about winning. Nothing else matters. Players are expected to do absolutely everything they can to win. We expect it. We demand it. We snicker if a good guy cheats and gets away with it. The only unacceptable behaviour is losing. When winning is the only thing, there is no room for things like fair play, sportsmanship, or respect for the safety of opponents.

For the most part, I agree. As I’ve noted before, most hockey fans find it hard to appreciate their team when they lose. However, I do question Tom’s assumption that the game has only recently become a “win at all costs” affair. When another reader asked if hadn’t always been this way, Tom had this to say:

No. At one time we had the quaint idea that it was not whether you won or lost, but how you played the game. The change was gradual, but I think it was Vince Lombardi who really put the nail in the coffin and made winning the only thing. Partly it does come from the teams and athletes because winning means so much more money these days, but fans have changed too. We have no patience or empathy for losers. No excuse is acceptable. We’ll forgive almost any behaviour from winners.

It was not always this way. Most fans in my generation grew up making excuses for losers. Today we reject reasons as excuses and exorciate the unsuccessful.

Except that’s not exactly true. Take this news story about a BC minor league hockey audience, for example. The research of Stacy Lorenz also inspires some doubt about Tom’s assertion.

Maybe I’m just cynical, but the more I read about the way hockey used, the less I am willing to believe that there were ever “good old days.” Perhaps the books give us a skewed, one-sided perspective. I suspect, though, that we’re just more obvious with our dirty play—that players simply don’t care about hiding their “win at all costs” approach to the game any more. Which brings us back to the fans, because why should the players care about sportsmanship if we don’t?

A Responsible Coach

Aside from the offender, who bears responsibility when one player deliberately injures another? Don Anderson points to the coach.

Coaches bear responsibility for this sort of mayhem, particularly coaches who themselves throw tantrums, verbally and emotionally abusing their players in an effort to urge them to win at any cost. This negative, critical attitude transfers to the players, especially the so-called tough guys, pushing them to escalate their aggressive behavior: dangerous hits against the boards, fighting, cross-checking in front of the goal, using the stick with both hands, and pounding on the backs—or even the heads—of their opponents. (page 56)

It’s no secret that coaches have been directly responsible for some on-ice aggression. They are, after all, the people sending out goons in the closing minutes of blow-out games. In some cases they go so far as commanding specific players to “do something” about a skillfully dangerous opponent (for example, John Ferguson’s instructions to Bobby Clarke in the 1972 Summit Series).

But Anderson makes a good point: players do follow their authorities, and if the head coach is prone to fits of screaming rage, doesn’t it make sense that such an attitude will manifest itself in how his team plays? Kinda like the three-year-old kid who picks up swearing from his father. We’re not surprised when that happens, so why doesn’t the same hold true for coaches and their players?

A Third Way

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?

The Reason We Get to Hear So Much about Fighting

Apologies for the recent silence. It’s been a busy week.

This quote from Brian Burke (from a recent Scott Burnside column) is way old news, but I wanted to post it here anyway: it’s worth a second glance.

“First of all, [the issue of fighting] attracts a lot of media coverage, non-sports media, guys that don’t care about hockey show up with their camera when an event of that size happens,” Burke said. “I mean, ‘The Fifth Estate’ showed up. I said to the guy who did the interview, ‘Where were you a year ago? You’re not worried about player safety; you’re taking advantage of this horrible tragedy to focus on our sport, which you don’t really care about anyway.’”

Endemic to the Game

If you’ve been reading my collected quotes, quips, and questions about violence in hockey, you may have noticed that I’m not exactly pro-fighting. I’m certainly not 100% against it—there are, I believe, valid reasons to fight another hockey player, the same way as there are valid reasons to fight another person in “real life.” But I don’t stand up and cheer when a fight erupts on the ice, and when I play, I do my best to get in-between players to break up potential fights. Honestly, I don’t see fighting as an advantage or a display of manliness; if anything, it’s generally the opposite.

That said, I’m not a big fan of anti-fighting rants or articles. Take, for example, Jeffrey’s Simpson’s article, “Fighting hockey violence will give you a concussion” (published in the Globe and Mail back in February). Simpson’s main point is that a fighting ban would cut down on head injuries, and he makes some good points along the way (notably that fans themselves are the biggest obstacle: they enjoy the fighting and would be loathe to see it go).

But Simpson’s article is not really convincing. His tone is condescending (and therefore not likely to win anyone over), and some of his claims are downright puzzling. He says:

A few Canadians like to insist that fighting really only appeals to Americans. Fighting exists in hockey to sell the game in U.S. markets where people carry guns, watch football players smash each other and where television is overrun with violence.

I have never heard anyone make this claim. Never. Of course, I won’t claim to know or read everything, but seriously, who has said this? And where? Even if there are one or two Canadians that use this argument, there is absolutely no reason for Simpson to critique. Such people would most definitely be in the minority, and anyone who’s ever heard of Bobby Clarke or watched Hockey Night in Canada couldn’t help but laugh at such statements.

Later, Simpson launches into high gear with this equally mystifying paragraph.

Fighting is not endemic to hockey, except for the evident fact that the sport allows it. Fighting could be eliminated with the snap of a finger if owners and players didn’t believe that the fans want fighting. It is, after all, the only professional sport that allows fighting. Hockey is no rougher than football or Australian-rules football or rugby, where to fight is to be expelled from play. The argument that fighting is a necessary outlet for aggression is wholly bogus.

Here, his first sentence is nonsensical. Fighting is not endemic, except that is. Right. It’s not even possible to go along with Simpson’s argument just for the heck of it: as Stacy Lorenz has pointed out, serious violence has been part of hockey for over a century. It’s not new. It’s not a development of the game. It actually is and always has been a part of the game.

Simpson concludes his article with another far-fetched claim: “Go to the Hockey Hall of Fame, or watch films of classic encounters of yesteryear. You won’t remember the fighters, but rather the skilled players.” The trouble is, yesteryear’s skilled players were all fighters. Rocket Richard. Gordie Howe. Bobby Orr. Bobby Clarke. It’s only in the last twenty-five years or so that we’ve seen skilled players who don’t fight. Today’s violent game is not a result of the “Cherryfication of hockey.” It’s really the natural growth of the game.

Now, I’d like to see the penalties for fighting increased. I’d like to see the NHL discourage cheap displays of violence. But arguments like Simpson’s just don’t work. We won’t see fighting banned or even head shots decrease unless we show a better way that doesn’t want to rewrite hockey history or pretend scandalous events never happened. Hockey is a game with an edge, as it should be. Any non-fighting form of hockey ought to retain that edge. Otherwise, it’s just not the same game.