The Brutal Truth About Hockey Fights
The ornery Stanley Cup final between the Bruins and Canucks produced another round in the endless debate over whether the National Hockey League should crack down on fighting.
The issue puts me in mind of John Kenneth Galbraith, and not because the famous economist hailed from Canada. Galbraith used to make an amusing observation about supply-side economics. Its proponents were wildly resourceful in promoting the virtues of their preferred economic policy: cutting the top income tax rates would spur growth, increase revenue, create wealth that trickled down to the poorest, inspire new entrepreneurs, enhance social harmony, and produce God knows what other wonders.
Just once, Galbraith said, it would be nice if some wealthy person acknowledged the real reason the rich favor tax cuts: they like money and want more of it. Economics is outside my bailiwick, but Galbraith’s observation applies nicely to hockey fighting.
On its face, the idea of a game stopping so players can pummel one another seems strange. The notion that this activity, which has zero to do with the point of the game (putting the puck in the net), would be an accepted part of the sport, such that general managers acquire players for their ability to engage in it, seems very strange. But proponents of fighting come armed with a clever argument: fighting is a relatively harmless outlet for frustration, and its elimination would lead to dirtier play and dangerous stick work.
What poppycock. Opponents of a crackdown on fighting should come out and admit it –- they don’t want fisticuffs outlawed because they enjoy the fights.
The notion that hockey would become more violent without fighting is refuted simply by looking around the world. In most nations that play hockey, fighting is greeted not with a five minute penalty and loud applause but with severe punishment and condemnation. Ditto college hockey in the United States.
Is hockey more violent in those venues? No, it’s the NHL which has experienced a proliferation of concussions and other injuries.
It’s true that some NHL violence is so impulsive that it can’t be deterred by the threat of punishment. But those who can’t control themselves can’t be trusted with a dangerous weapon, and should be escorted from the sport.
Moreover, many hockey fights are anything but impulsive. Most teams carry one or two designated fighters and, at suitable times, the respective coaches send them out against one another. Everyone knows what’s coming, and the ruffians willingly play their roles. These fights are about as spontaneous as the singing of the National Anthem before each game.
If fighting were banned, you wouldn’t get more stick-swinging or dirty play; you’d get less fighting. That is precisely why it hasn’t happened. Less fighting means less attendance, and (this much I know about economics) owners care more about the almighty dollar more than about player safety or the purity of their sport.
I’m not on a high horse about this. Back in the days I followed the NHL closely, I relished slug-outs. I could still give you a round by round account of the various fights between Clark Gillies and Terry O’Reilly in the 1980 Islanders-Bruins playoff series. Seeing your favorite player pound someone you despise – what else in life supplies such vicarious pleasure? It’s like professional wrestling, except the villains really receive the blows.
Back in the days when I perused hockey box scores less to see who scored goals than who fought whom, I could recite in my sleep the argument against a ban on fighting. But deep down, I knew the argument was self-serving sophistry.
My willingness to indulge it diminished when I read George Plimpton’s book about the Boston Bruins. One of the Bruins’ thugs, John Wensink, complained to Plimpton about European sissies taking over the sport. Wensink hated seeing money and attention showered on players who could skate rings around him but couldn’t fight.
How perverse, I thought. The idea of gifted athletes like Anders Hedberg and Borje Salming ruining the sport for hooligans like Wensink was profoundly backwards.
But while I personally grew tired of the goons, others continue to enjoy the spectacle and the vicarious pleasure it produces. I don’t begrudge them that. I merely ask of them what Galbraith asked of the supply-siders: fess up, and ditch the bogus arguments.