I was inspired to tackle this topic by fellow Edmonton Oilers blogger Matt Henderson, who offered up a
very thoughtful and well-written blog on the subject yesterday. Just offering up my two cents here, but thanks for reading. We’ll get back to our regularly scheduled blogging tomorrow.
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Before we dive into hockey’s most complex and heavily-debated issue, let me provide a little background, so you’ll know exactly where I’m coming from… literally. I grew up in Fort McMurray, Alberta, a hard-working, blue-collar home to nearly 80,000 people and one of the largest oil reserves in the world. Perched on the edge of civilization, oil sands deposits fuel the local economy while hockey fuels the pride and passion of the locals. Head into any bar or restaurant and you’re likely to find a framed picture of Ottawa Senators defenseman Chris Phillips or Florida Panthers winger Scottie Upshall, two Fort McMurray products that made it to hockey’s highest level.
Some questions about Fort McMurray are hard to answer. I couldn’t tell you how long it takes for frostbite to set in the dead of winter, but 15 minutes seems like a pretty good bet. However, I know that the Fort McMurray Oil Barons, the local Junior A hockey team, are definitely the hottest ticket in town. When I was growing up, the team usually played a two-game weekend series against whichever AJHL opponent made the perilous trek up Highway 63. Saturday night’s game would always start at 8:30 p.m., allowing plenty of time for shift workers to hop off the buses around 7 p.m. and make it down to Thickwood Heights Arena in time for the opening faceoff.
Saturday night’s game was usually decent, but fans expecting to see fisticuffs were often disappointed. The teams would save their knuckle-chucking until the second game, Sunday afternoon at 2 p.m., when tensions finally boiled over and penalty minutes piled up. If Saturday’s contest got really chippy, it only fueled the fire and increased the anticipation for Sunday’s game, and the players never hesitated to ignite the fight-filled blaze. “Bloody Sunday” occurred every other weekend from October to March, drawing huge crowds hoping for some scoring, but howling for some scrapping.
I saw a lot of games and a lot of goals at Thickwood Heights Arena, but there aren’t any that stand out above the rest. Sure I have memories of playoff games and overtime winners, and the glorious details were once sharp and clear, but they’ve been rounded off and clouded over by the passage of time. However, there is one memory that sticks out. I remember a line brawl against the Olds Grizzlies in 1995, and a 16-year-old Chris Phillips squaring off against some unlucky foe, pummeling him with a wild flurry of uncontested punches. It was a moment of intense pride, watching the local boy stand up for both the team and the town. Nearly 20 years later, that 30-second fight is recalled more clearly than any big goal or dramatic win. I’m not sure what that says about me as a hockey fan. I’m not even sure how I feel about it.
Unfortunately, it’s impossible for people to have an intelligent debate about fighting because there are two diametrically opposed groups on each side of the issue: those who love fighting, and those who hate it. The problem is, both of them are big, fat liars. In order to get to the real heart of the matter, you have to debunk a whole lot of B.S. coming from both sides of the argument.
Fighting’s detractors have been lying for years, using any method possible to prove that scrapping should be outlawed. They used to claim that fighting had a negative impact on children, that kids would emulate players like Tie Domi or Bob Probert and wander through the neighborhood punching each other out. The fact is, nobody likes being punched in the face, especially little kids. Sure they might strut around a little bit, waving a finger in the air or pretending to wear a heavyweight belt, but punch-in-the-face contests haven’t caught fire among children the way people have claimed they would.
Unable to convince anyone that NHL fisticuffs make children more violent, the detractors have moved on to the theory that fighting is a completely unnecessary aspect of the game. Sure it isn’t a necessity. The Chicago Blackhawks’ 6-4, come-from-behind win over the Washington Capitals on Tuesday night was phenomenal, and there wasn’t a single fight. However, who’s to decide what enhances the game of hockey? Fighting isn’t necessary, just like backhanders or blocked shots or hipchecks aren’t necessary. However, I would rather watch a game with each of these elements, rather than picking and choosing which ones could (or should) be eliminated.
People will counter that fights are much less common in the playoffs, and don’t occur at all during international competition. Well, I can tell you that some of the best and most memorable fights (Clark-McSorley, Iginla-Lecavalier) happened during the playoffs. Those players who fight most often also see decreased playing time during the postseason, and the ones on the ice don’t want to spend five minutes locked up in a penalty box or risk putting their team at a disadvantage. As for international play, fighting would add another intriguing element to it, especially during those intense rivalries when emotions run high and players are looking for any edge they can get.
On the other side of the argument, fighting’s proponents are shoveling their own share of crap. We hear it all the time, that fighting helps players police themselves, limiting the dirty play, hits from behind, or stick infractions. I’m not buying it. Sure it might make a guy think twice before he lays the lumber across an opponent, but I don’t think you’d see a major increase in those incidents if fighting was banned. Ultimately, players don’t have to fight if they don’t want to, so I don’t see how the threat of five-knuckle justice serves as a major deterrent of dirty play.
Of course, most of the talk about fighting’s importance comes straight from the mouths of enforcers, goons who try to validate their place in the league by arguing that they keep people in check. In a way, these players are just keeping themselves employed, working together to keep the scam going. Brian McGrattan has to take a run at an Oilers player every now and then, giving Luke Gazdic (The Gazmanian Devil) a chance to step in and prove his worth to the team. In an ideal NHL, each fighter would be capable of more than the standard five minutes a night and five points a season.
Fight lovers will also claim that it can be a valuable tool to change the momentum of a game. That is absolutely true, I’ve seen it. However, I’ve also seen a total lunar eclipse, and that happens about as often as a momentum shift resulting from a fight. Gazdic beat up Winnipeg’s Chris Thorburn late in the second period on Tuesday night, but the Jets outscored the Oilers 2-0 the rest of the way. If getting beaten up can shift the momentum in your favor Zack Stortini would have been the Oilers’ MVP.
Unfortunately, the discussion can only progress once both sides admit that they’ve been slinging worthless arguments at one another for the last two decades. I’m going to tell you exactly why I love fighting and why it should remain an integral part of hockey: It’s just plain entertaining.
Most of fighting’s entertainment value comes from the anticipation, the unpredictable nature of it. Every time you go to a game the possibility of a fight exists, and you rarely know when it will happen or who will be involved. It’s a lot like a slasher movie that way. The act itself doesn’t draw us in as much as the anticipation does, but once the payoff happens we just can’t look away. The bigger, tougher, and more dangerous the fighters are, the more we enjoy seeing them duke it out. Colton Orr and B.J. Crombeen led the league in fighting majors last season, but they're not exactly skull-thumping heavyweights and don't raise the blood pressure a whole lot. However, I can recall the days when a matchup like Boogaard vs. Laraque had people salivating from Surrey to St. John’s.
The best fight of the early season was Orr and George Parros’s first tilt from Tuesday night’s game between the Toronto Maple Leafs and Montreal Canadiens. Nobody was policing anybody, and it didn’t result in a huge momentum shift. Orr and Parros squared off, not out of some noble cause, but because that’s what they’re employed to do: punch each other in the face for our amusement. By the end of it, everyone in attendance was standing and cheering. Those two have fought several times before and, despite Parros hitting his head on the ice in their second bout of the game, they’re sure to fight again in the future. I hate to borrow an infuriating line from Todd Bertuzzi, but it is what it is.
Another reason I love fighting is that it shows us the athletes care. Sure they can fake it and go through the motions over the course of a game, but once you drop the gloves and go toe-to-toe you’d better care or you can get mangled. Just the simple fact that a player is willing to put himself in physical danger shows us some measure of his character and dedication to the team. Bravery and honor aren’t on display very often, but whenever a player comes to the aid of a teammate and drops the mitts you have to admire both qualities.
You would never see that kind of thing on a baseball diamond. I’m pretty sure there have been about 10 baseball punches landed over the last two decades, and Nolan Ryan landed six of them. Baseball has been neutered by a lack of celebration and outward emotion. How often do you see a baseball player care enough about the team to put himself in physical danger? About as often as you see overt happiness, which is usually limited to the moments after the final out of the World Series.
Today, the debate rages over fighting and player safety. When Parros had his kisser hit the ice on Tuesday night it cranked up the dialogue on fighting and its place in the game. However, those whose make a dramatic 180-degree turn because of a Parros concussion couldn’t have been paying much attention in the first place. Everybody who steps on the ice knows the risk involved, whether they’re blocking a shot or dropping the gloves. We can do our best to decrease the risk of injury, but I don’t think we have to eliminate a thrilling element of the sport just because of the danger or risk involved.
Now we’ve reached the point where players are penalized for taking off their helmets, confusing the matter and complicating the rules. I suppose it’s just another sign of the times. These days, we’ve begun legislating everything. I’m allowed to drive, but I can’t do it without wearing my seatbelt while talking on the phone. What happened to free agency? What happened to my right to be stupid?
In the grand scheme of things, two complicated conclusions come to mind. First, I’ve seen a lot more hockey fights than street fights or bar fights. Second, when Parros hit the ice on Tuesday night it generated a lot more debate than any soldier who died fighting abroad this week. Pondering those two facts, how could you not feel both comforted and conflicted? I enjoy watching a good fight, not because it keeps the sport clean or helps my team, but because it’s entertaining. Maybe that makes me selfish. Maybe my priorities are screwed up.
Coming from Fort McMurray, a town that sees fighting and frostbite in equal measure, I suppose the love of the five-knuckle shuffle has been engrained in me from an early age. However, the majority of actual violence I’ve witnessed during my lifetime has been inside a hockey rink, separated from it by a pane of Plexiglas. In the end, I consider myself lucky.
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