Requiem for Hockey's goons: the sport has evolved, and fist-first Neanderthals are a relic of a distant Ice Age

0 Comments | Insight on the News, May 13, 2002 | by Patrick Hruby

Once the happy hunting ground of brawlers such as Dave Semenko, the National Hockey League (NHL) is morphing into a kinder, gentler place. The one-dimensional hockey bruiser (the species known as "Homo goonus") teeters on the verge of extinction, a victim of harsher rules, shifting mores, shrinking rosters and creeping irrelevance.

In the golden era of hockey brawling (the mid 1980s to early 1990s) blue-line gladiators roamed the ice like sweater-clad tyrannosaurs, give or take a few missing teeth. Night after night, city after city, the league's heavyweights squared off to protect smaller teammates, rectify on-ice injustices and fire up fans. Often they knocked heads for no other reason than the sheer, unfettered joy of turning another man's God-given features into unrecognizable paste.

Today, though, many of the game's legendary cudgelers are retired. Others are pushing 40. And most of their would-be successors see action on a severely limited basis. No-skate knockout artist Kevin Sawyer has been in 24 fights this season, the third-highest total in the league. In his six-year career, however, the Anaheim winger has played in only 65 games. Likewise, Boston face-breaker P.J. Stock has averaged a little less than 25 appearances a season during his six NHL campaigns.

Or take Detroit. Fifteen years after the team's front office happily promoted the terrible tag team of Bob Probert and Joe Kocur (aka "The Bruise Brothers"), the Red Wings sport a star-studded lineup and the best record in hockey. All without a single brawler on their roster.

Why the shift? For the most part, it's a matter of supply and demand -- that is to say, a dwindling supply of duke-dealers that reflects a waning demand for on-ice fisticuffs. Embarrassed by a bench-clearing, pregame melee between Montreal and Philadelphia during the 1987 playoffs, the NHL cracked down on the rough stuff, instituting harsh punishments for leaving the bench and an additional two-minute instigator penalty for any player who provokes a tete-a-tete.

The changes produced the desired results. From 1985 to 1988, the league averaged more than one fight per game, an all-time high. By the 1995-96 season, however, brawling had fallen by 25 percent. Two seasons ago, the NHL averaged just one scuffle every two games. More than 60 percent of those games were actually fight-free, the highest percentage in two decades.

Other factors have contributed to the league's shrinking fight club. When the NHL merged with the World Hockey Association in 1979, an increased roster allowed teams to add punchers; likewise, the recent drop from 24 to 23 active players has eliminated the goon slot on many clubs. Add in an average NHL salary that pushes $1.5 million, and general managers increasingly are reluctant to sign a player who brings little more than mangled knuckles to the table -- not when expansion and league parity make every shift count.

In addition, there's the issue of old-fashioned hockey values -- or, more specifically, a decided lack thereof. A decadelong influx of finesse-minded Europeans has greatly undercut the league's raison d'goon. "Old-time North American hockey viewed [fighting] as a way to settle a score or settle things down," says Washington Caps coach Ron Wilson. "I don't think it's looked upon the same way now. I know a lot of players that roll their eyes when they see two tough guys duke it out because they feel it's pointless." NHL Could Experience Labor Unrest Major

PATRICK HRUBY WRITES FOR Insight's SISTER DAILY, THE WASHINGTON TIMES.

RELATED ARTICLE: NHL could experience labor unrest.

Major League Baseball is dominating headlines with its labor problems, but the National Hockey League's (NHL's) labor woes are no less volatile, and actually hold more potential for growing truly ugly and resulting in a lengthy work stoppage.

A full two years before the existing labor deal between the players and management expires, team owners already are sounding the alarm for "cost certainty" -- a code phrase for a salary cap or caplike mechanism. And players steadily are preparing to fight for the status quo, under which average salaries have doubled since 1995 to about $1.5 million.

In the middle of it all is NHL Commissioner Gary Bettman. Charged with being the sport's lead shepherd and promoter, Bettman must convince sponsors, broadcast partners and the public that hockey is growing and thriving. He has some powerful evidence to support that claim, as the NHL recorded its fourth consecutive league-attendance record, TV ratings have stabilized and several once-troubled Canadian franchises are finding steadier footing.

But Bettman also is an employee of the team owners and their lead voice in relations with the players. Sentiment is strong for some kind of salary cap because nearly two-thirds of the league's 30 teams are believed or confirmed to be losing money. And unlike baseball, NHL revenues have not exponentially risen to match the salary growth.

The result is a profound uneasiness. An owners' lockout in 1994-95, centering on basically the same issues, canceled nearly half the season. This time, both union and league sources say, the two sides already are squirreling away money for a much longer battle.