Breaking Down Language Barriers - how hockey teams cope with team members who speak different languages

Hockey Digest, May, 2001 by Chuck O'Donnell

THE DOORS SWING OPEN INTO the Pittsburgh Penguins locker room and just two steps inside, you have to do a double take to make sure you didn't just barge into an emergency session of the United Nations.

Bon jour! (Huh?) ... Dobree dem! (Say what?) ... Vi guhvahreetye pah ahngleeyskee? (Come again?) ... Chyeshich! (Excuse me?)

In one corner of the Pittsburgh locker room are a couple of Russians jabbering away about trade rumors. Over there are Czechs and Slovaks yukking it up. Over here there's a few Swedes and Finns discussing strategy in their native tongues. And throughout the room, there's a smattering of French and English from North American players.

Welcome to hockey's Tower of Babel. On a team where coach Ivan Hlinka had to take English lessons over the summer and the team's best players, Mario Lemieux and Jaromir Jagr, had trouble communicating in English when they first broke into the league, breaking down language barriers is about as tough as breaking a neutral-zone trap.

While the Penguins may have the biggest melting pot of languages in the league, they're hardly alone. In addition to the aforementioned languages, you'll hear German, Polish, Ukrainian, and a host of other languages spoken in other locker rooms around the league.

Translation: As the NHL becomes more diversified every year, communication between teammates, and between coaches and players has become increasingly difficult. Teams have already begun to focus on this fact, fearing that a language breakdown could become a problem on several different levels.

For one, teams fear that it could cause a cliquish clubhouse where players only mingle with other players who speak their language. This behavior, teams fear, will mean that the players won't truly bond. And if they don't bond away from the ice, what's to say they'll stick up for each other on the ice. Hockey is unique to sports in that fighting is part of its culture, as are post-whistle skirmishes, pushing matches, facials, and stare-downs, so it's important to have an unspoken camaraderie between teammates on the ice when tempers get a little heated.

Also, teams are concerned that players will feel things are being said furtively about them in another language, creating tension in the dressing room.

To ally these fears, several teams across the NHL have instituted an unofficial "English-only" rule in the locker room. To them, English is the common ground where all players must meet. The Washington Capitals, who aren't far behind the Pens in international flavor, have a kangaroo court that docks each player $100 for not speaking English. The Florida Panthers and St. Louis Blues are also experimenting with making their locker rooms English-only zones.

Right off the bat," says St. Louis Blues goalie Brent Johnson, "Prongs [Chris Pronger] said everyone should speak English so everyone can speak to each other in the dressing room.

Ex-Philadelphia Flyers coach Craig Ramsay expressed some frustration earlier this season communicating with newcomer Roman Cechmanek, a first-year goalie from the Czech Republic. "He is better, though, [than other foreign players]," Ramsay says. "He understands some of the things we say."

After pitching an early-season shutout, the press descended on Cechmanek for comments. The only problem was that his usual interpreter, defenseman Michael Sykora, was out of the lineup. So Cechmanek opened his postgame comments by apologizing for his problems with the language and this little nugget: "I'm happy that we won."

Panthers superstar Pavel Bure had a similar period of adjustment when he came to the NHL. His coaches in Vancouver had to diagram the plays on a chalkboard for him to understand.

While some teams are imposing an English-only policy, others are going in the opposite direction. Those teams are encouraging native tounges because they want their players to feel more at home. If that means speaking something other than English, that's fine--even at the risk of communication failure.

"It's a common thread for most teams that you're going to have players from different areas and countries," says San Jose Sharks goalie Steve Shields. "You learn to live with it. You want guys to be comfortable. If people like hanging out with different people and speaking they're own language, that's fine, as long in the locker room we're all on the same page and working for the same goal.

"I think someone who is more comfortable in his environment is going to be a better hockey player. Guys are pretty much able to do what they want and most of our guys speak very good English, so it's a good situation for us."

But many players say that forcing them to learn English is good in the long run. Rangers center Petr Nedved says that when he first fled Czechoslovakia for North America, he found he was the only player on his team that didn't speak English. "I didn't have a choice [about speaking English]," says Nedved. But it turned out to be a blessing in disguise because he had to learn the language quickly or deal with being isolated.