Is there a place in hockey for fighting?

Author: Peter Baumann and David Infante

TWO OPINIONS ON VIOLENCE IN HOCKEY:

Pro hockey's black eye
[by Peter Baumann]

For many athletes, the past three years have been memorable. Tiger Woods won four majors, Roger Federer won 10 Grand Slams and Sidney Crosby went from a 17-year-old kid to a 19-year-old prodigy leading the NHL in points. Steve Moore, of course, has doneÖnothing.

Three years ago, Moore was assaulted during the waning minutes of a 9-2 Colorado Avalanche victory by Vancouver Canucks forward Todd Bertuzzi. Watching the game live on a local network, the play still resonates as the most heart-wrenching moment I have ever seen. I remember watching Bertuzzi follow Moore into the corner, poking him in the back, begging for a fight, watching Moore head up-ice into the play followed by Bertuzzi and watching Bertuzzi toss down his gloves and pounce on the unsuspecting Moore. But most of all, I remember the way Moore crumpled to the ice while the odious Bertuzzi went to hit him again.

Since then, in what some would call due penance for his attack on Moore, Bertuzzi has sat out one entire NHL season, been traded twice and spent the majority of this year on the disabled list. This has left many wondering if he will ever emerge from the shell of his former self. He still faces a civil lawsuit filed by Moore in a Vancouver court, but pleaded guilty to a minor misdemeanor criminal charge. He has completed the necessary probationary period, leaving his record clean. He is making over five million dollars this year to play the game that he loves.

Moore has not played since that fateful day. He still suffers from migraine headaches and chronic back problems. No wonder, considering that in less than two seconds, the 6'3", 245-pound Bertuzzi managed to fracture three of Moore's vertebrae, cause a grade three concussion, vertebral ligament damage, facial cuts and stretching of several nerves. Moore now lives a normal life that involves church at least once a week. A comeback is unlikely.

Three years to the day after the attack that left Moore unconscious on the ice, Chris Simon of the New York Islanders did his best Paul Bunyan impression, swinging his stick into the face of Rangers forward Ryan Holleweg. The sight of Holleweg lying on the ice, crimson blood spreading in sharp contrast to the luminous white jersey and the pale ice, brought me instantly back to the Moore incident. The attack made me realize that despite the pain Moore feels every day, the NHL has still not learned from his strife.

Why is the culture in hockey so violent? Hockey is the only major sport that allows fighting to take place within the confines of the game. In basketball, baseball and football, any players who begin to fight are instantaneously separated, and more often than not, kicked out of the game and suspended. In hockey, unbelievably, players are allowed to continue their pugilism while the referees stand by and watch. This gives rise to a culture predicated on self-policing and retaliation.

While only a criminal might be able to understand exactly what was going through Bertuzzi's head three years ago, retaliation certainly played a role. Two weeks earlier, Moore had injured Canucks' captain Markus Naslund. There was no penalty called, and upon review, the league determined that the hit was clean and no punishment was needed. This, however, did not appease the Canucks. They vowed to get revenge, with enforcer Bob May, in a scene taken right out of "The Sopranos," going as far as to put a bounty on Moore's head. Fourteen days later, Bertuzzi collected this bounty, his act of vigilant justice inspired by the ethos created by the NHL.

Simon's act, while terrible, was not the only disappointing thing that happened in the past few weeks. Following a late hit on his captain, Chris Drury, Sabres' coach Lindy Ruff placed five little-used enforcers on the ice. The next 10 minutes descended into anarchy as the players took the punishment for the hit on their teammate into their own hands. Despite their breakout season, I will always remember the Sabres not for their extraordinary accomplishments, but for the lack of integrity shown by their coach during a moment of passion.

By allowing fighting, the NHL is condoning the actions of Bertuzzi and Simon. For the sake of Moore, Holleweg and the sport in general, hockey needs to remove this black mark upon its legacy. Until it does, the beauty of Crosby and the skill of Alexander Ovechkin will always be overshadowed by the actions of goons.



The honor in fighting
[by David Infante]

After being hit into the boards on a hard check from the New York Rangers' Ryan Hollweg, Chris Simon of the New York Islanders struggled to his feet, shook himself off and proceeded to hit Hollweg in the face with a two-handed swing with his stick. This incident, the most recent in a league that has been tarnished several times by similar acts of wanton violence, has put the NHL's policies concerning violence under review. The league handed Simon its largest suspension in history, banning him for a minimum of 25 games, but the damage was done.

The hit reopened long-standing attacks on the league regarding the alleged contradictory message they preach by condemning vengeful acts of violence while simultaneously allowing fistfights between players. Critics of the league's policy on fighting argue that it sends a mixed message to players and viewers, insisting that the line that separates Simon's attack and man-to-man fighting is blurred.

However, fighting has been, and still is a legitimate aspect of professional hockey for an important reason. To the casual observer, a fistfight on the ice is a barbaric endeavor. The outbreak of a fight looks to be nothing more than a couple of undisciplined players wreaking havoc on each other. A hockey enthusiast knows better.

Hockey fights are remarkably more complex than the obvious display of physical ability. Professional hockey at every level is governed by what players refer to as "the code," a set of unwritten rules that guides the actions of players on the ice. The code has everything to do with honor and integrity. Simon's attack on Hollweg was a textbook display of a player "breaking the code." The code functions on a fundamental, eye-for-an-eye basis: if you play with respect, you will be respected, but if you play like a jerk, retribution is warranted.

Though most players in the league understand and abide by this sentiment, there is still need for an enforcement mechanism. Fighting serves exactly this purpose.

After a team's star suffers through continual rough play in front of the goal or on the boards, a coach may put the team's enforcer in on the same line to maintain the peace. If the dirty play continues, the fighter will seek out an opponent and start a fight to send the message to the opposing team that their game play is unacceptable.

This form of justice, which to the uneducated hockey fan seems to be nothing more than cavalier vigilantism, is integral to the game because it facilitates clean, competitive hockey rather than underhanded tactics and classless acts. More importantly, though no measure of sanctioning (either league-enforced rules or fighting) can prevent the type of impassioned and vengeful violence that characterized Simon's attack, fighting acts as a preemptive control on such vengeance. And, although the fights seem vicious, it is rare for either player to come away seriously injured.

Though critics insist that if referees cracked down on NHL regulations star players would enjoy the same type of buffer, players would still be able to sneak dirty and potentially dangerous plays by the officials. When the teams themselves seek retribution, it is difficult to sneak such plays, because instead of four referees that may miss unsportsmanlike conduct, the entire bench is on watch and can react after the i
nitial hit is administered. Fighting allows a legal way for players to police each other on the ice, it keeps the game safer and it results in an improvement in play.

Perhaps the most intriguing aspect of fighting, however, is that the code applies to it as well. In the NHL, fights rarely break out without warning. With the exception of certain situations in which violence has to be mitigated immediately, such as a team's goalie being hit or sprayed with ice intentionally, the progression to the eventual fight is deceivingly sportsmanlike.

Fights are generally premeditated occurrences that are agreed upon by both parties involved. The aggressor, commonly an "enforcer," will line up at the face-off circle after a bad hit or an out-of-line play and politely ask his counterpart if he wants to "go." If the player declines, the fight is off, and the enforcer must find a new opponent. If his challenge is accepted, the two will square off. There is a certain honor ingrained in the process of fighting that restrains players from the spontaneous - and therefore dangerous - retribution that results in physical harm.

Fighting is as much a part of hockey as the puck is. Beyond the strong tradition the quiet institution has in the professional game, it persists because it is a functional and honorable manner in which teams can control the gameplay of their opponents. Fighting keeps the game clean and skillful. To ban fighting with a blanketed moratorium on violence in the NHL would result in a decline in the level of play and a stark increase in the potential danger to the players.