Last Saturday, my friend and I got to play tour guide for a visitor from England. He had been living in Canada for several months, but since he was a relative stranger to Victoria, we ran him through the usual tourist gauntlet: the museum, the Inner Harbour, Government Street, etc.
After dinner, we thought it might be fun to knock back a few in Victoria鈥檚 best hillbilly bar. The real 91原创 experience!
While we were drinking cheap beer and cracking our peanut shells, we noticed that the hockey game was on. As is my wont in bars when non-soccer-related sports are on the screen, I ignored it 鈥� or tried to, until our friend pointed and asked us to explain something to him.
He wasn鈥檛 confused about any particular aspect of the game, but rather the fact that the game hadn鈥檛 started yet, and yet both teams were on the ice, fighting. Even as a hockey ignoramus, I knew that this was atypical behaviour. There didn鈥檛 seem to be a reason for it.
I shrugged, bewildered. I couldn鈥檛 explain it. Who knew why they were fighting? My friend鈥檚 theory was that the teams just hated each other.
鈥淲hy is hockey so violent?鈥� our English friend asked, as we watched the refs circle the brawlers, unable to get in close to break up the fights.
鈥淚t didn鈥檛 used to be,鈥� I insisted, trying to rescue our sport from outsider censure, but I was aware that I didn鈥檛 really know what I was talking about. I felt certain that there had been a time in history when hockey was more about skill and speed than checks and brawling, but I couldn鈥檛 have told you when it had changed.
My friend provided a different narrative: 鈥淔ighting鈥檚 been part of hockey for a long time,鈥� she said. That much, at least, is obviously true.
The ice was soon cleared, and we watched as a few rink attendants worked furiously, trying first to scrape and then to chip the blood off the ice. It had soaked in pretty deeply. The players sat in their boxes, breathing hard after the free-for-all.
We checked off 鈥渉ockey fight鈥� from our list of 鈥�91原创 Things.鈥�
Our English friend shook his head in disbelief. It鈥檚 not that we weren鈥檛 entertained; we were, in a strange way, but he was still perplexed.
鈥淚f this had happened in a football match, they鈥檇 all be suspended,鈥� he said. 鈥淲hy is it so violent?鈥�
Certainly, the participants in the brawl that began Saturday鈥檚 game have been punished 鈥� the Canucks and the Flames both received four misconducts per team. Such punishments, however, are part of North American hockey culture. They鈥檙e designed as a response to fighting, but they鈥檙e not necessarily intended to reduce or even really punish fighting, which is an integral part of the modern game.
I don鈥檛 make a secret of my indifference toward hockey as a general rule, and yet even as I write that, I am aware of hockey鈥檚 power as a 91原创 institution. The things I claim to dislike about the sport when my coworkers rehash last night鈥檚 game are the same things I claim to enjoy when our 91原创 men and women make it to the finals in the Winter Olympics. (I鈥檓 still jazzed about 2010.)
A myriad of marketing strategies 鈥� think Tim Hortons, Olympics advertising, even the hockey sweater 鈥� have turned hockey into a pan-91原创 concept, and that fiction is part of what makes hockey so much fun. But according to the fans, brawling seems also to be part of what makes hockey fun.
Even as I wince at the game, I sort of wish I were part of the club. Thinking about moving to Ontario, for example, would be so much nicer if I knew that I had a Canucks jersey that would be coming with me. Something that simultaneously says 鈥淏ritish Columbia鈥� and 鈥淐anada.鈥�
But looking at the blood splatters on the ice, I was reminded of the violent extravagances of the professional sport, which are then passed down to the children and young adults playing at more junior levels, to devastating effect.
If this is our game, then how did it come to be in such a state? And why are we OK with accepting this kind of violence in a game that鈥檚 supposed to be about teamwork?
