Lights out on hockey fights
Hockey isa sport that treasures its history, while accommodating ongoing change. At heart, it remains the game it’s always been: players on skates chase a puck and tr y to put it past a goalie. At the same time, it has undergone an extraordinary transformation; anyone who watches a black- and- white telecast from the 1960s can’t help but recognize how dramatically different it was played.
Once t here were six teams; now there are 30. Coaching strategies have grown exponentially. Players who once spent a week or two getting into shape at the start of the season now follow intense, year- round conditioning routines. The relationship between players and management is night and day: 40 years ago, players did what they were told or got sent to the minors; now contract holdouts and trade demands are common. The most minor decisions are subject to intricate rules negotiated under a collective bargaining agreement and an equally headache- inducing grievance procedure. Everyone is a millionaire.
The equipment itself has evolved dramatically. Bobby Orr and Wayne Gretzky wore padding that wouldn’t be acceptable in a pee- wee league. Orr played without a helmet; as late as 1974, goaltenders could play without masks. Sticks were made of wood.
The game survived, and thrived, despite all these changes, though arguments were made against them at the time. Hockey is a game so fast and thrilling it can shrug off the near- constant alterations it undergoes. And there is no reason to assume it would suffer any greater damage should it end its addiction to fighting.
There are any number of reasons to remove fighting from the list of acceptable practices. First and foremost is the growing mountain of evidence linking fighting to concussions and long- term health problems, including depression and suicide. The list of National Hockey League enforcers who have taken their own lives suggests that “playing through the pain” is no longer an acceptable strategy.
Emails recently made public show the connection between fighting and concussions has been accepted at the top levels of the NHL. Communications between commissioner Gary Bettman, his deputy Bill Daly and t hen- vice- president Brendan Shanahan don’t question the damage done by fighting, but focus on why enforcers gravitate to the job. Daly notes matterof- factly: “Fighting raises the incidence of head injuries/concussions, which raises the incidence of depression onset, which raises the incidence of personal tragedies.” The emails also confirm that NHL tough guys turn to booze and pills “to ease the pain.”
That record should be enough to put paid to the argument that fighting is “part of the game.” It’s true enough that the NHL has always tolerated players who drop the gloves. But that, too, has evolved. In a previous era players defended themselves: Gordie Howe, Maurice Richard or Jean Beliveau fought their own fights or stayed out of the ring. Stars today rarely emulate them; instead, full- time enforcers are employed for staged battles that do little more than rouse the crowd or wake up teammates. Being a goon can be a lucrative, if short- lived, career; there will always be players of marginal skill willing to risk brain damage to keep their spot on an NHL bench. The size of today’s players also makes injuries far more likely.
The last- gasp defence of fighting is that it is popular with fans. It is also the weakest of arguments. There is no question that a bloody brawl brings people to their feet and can rouse a team out of lethargy. But blood lust is not a good excuse. If people buy tickets only to see someone battered to a pulp, they don’t count much as fans. And players who can only be convinced to quit coasting by watching a teammate punch out a competitor’s lights need to find some other form of motivation, or perhaps a better coach.
To suggest hockey needs fighting is to do it a rank disservice. The most exciting moments of any season take place when the playoffs begin and fisticuffs are put aside out of recognition that skill, speed and talent are what win the Stanley Cup. The rules don’t change for the post- season, yet fights are fewer because teams instinctively understand that time spent in the penalty box reduces the chances of victory.
The debate over fighting needs to be reversed. It’s not a matter of whether fighting should be removed from the game. It’s a question of why on earth it wouldn’t be.