The idea of a fight in an NHL game shouldn't elicit much of a reaction to the casual observer. Most people probably carry an implicit association between the sport and on-ice fighting. The image of two toothless, black-eyed hockey goons swinging wildly at each other is indelibly seared in the minds of many casual sports fans.
It's a tough stereotype for the NHL to overcome, no matter how far from reality it is. Of course, nights like Feb. 11 don't do much to help the league's cause.
To understand what happened, let's rewind the clock nine days. On Feb. 2, the New York Islanders and Pittsburgh Penguins played a regular-season game at the Consol Energy Center in Pittsburgh. An otherwise-normal 3-0 Penguins win turned bizarre with two events: a Max Talbot blind-side hit on Islanders rookie Blake Comeau that left the latter with a concussion and — the rarest of all rarities — a goalie fight between Brent Johnson and Rick DiPietro.
Johnson took exception to the way the Islanders goaltender had collided with Penguins forward Matt Cooke, so the two squared off at mid-ice while the referees were tied up managing other scraps in the corner.
The result was a surprising one-punch knockout of DiPietro by Johnson that left the Islanders goaltender out four to six weeks with facial fractures.
Given these separate injuries, the Islanders must have been dying for their next matchup with the Penguins to administer some payback. And so on to the 11th, this time at Nassau Coliseum. The final score: Islanders 9, Penguins 3. Except that part wasn't the payback the Isles apparently had in mind. In fact, the contest was all but decided on the scoreboard by the first intermission, with the Islanders already out to a commanding 4-0 lead.
But then things got ugly.
At 5:21 in the second period of what was now a 6-0 game, Islanders winger Matt Martin sucker-punched Talbot at center ice, presumably in retribution for the Comeau hit nine days earlier. The punch left Talbot face-down on the ice and set off a line brawl.
In the third period, the situation spiraled further out of control. The Islanders' Trevor Gillies elbowed Eric Tangradi, and Michael Haley attempted to engage Brent Johnson in a skater-versus-goalie fight before Penguins enforcer Eric Godard flew in — from off the bench — to fight Haley on Johnson's behalf.
The penalties section of the box score was as dense as they come, with the final tally weighing in at 15 fighting majors, 10 players ejected and 346 penalty minutes assessed.
Two days later, NHL disciplinarian Colin Campbell suspended Martin for four games for his punch on Talbot. Gillies got nine games for his actions, while the Pens' Godard got an automatic 10 games for leaving the players bench to fight with Haley. Campbell also fined the Islanders organization $100,000.
The Penguins were clearly not on the receiving end of most of the league's punishment, but owner Mario Lemieux was still displeased with the NHL's decision.
"The NHL had a chance to send a clear and strong message that those kinds of actions are unacceptable and embarrassing to the sport. It failed," Lemieux said in a recent statement. "We, as a league, must do a better job of protecting the integrity of the game and the safety of our players."
An episode like the Islanders-Penguins brawl has little to do with "typical" hockey fighting, though. Fights happen for a number of specific reasons, not for the sake of mindless violence. More often than not, a player fights because he is trying to send a message to his own team, not to his opponents.
Fights in hockey take place in accordance with an unwritten but time-honored code, with very specific rules and guidelines: No fighting with a visor on. No fighting anyone who doesn't want to fight you. No intent to injure, and once a player or players have been knocked to the ice, the fight is over.
This code, while not limited to the tenets above, helps explain how fighting can, however improbably, exist within the bounds of sportsmanship. It's a form of self-policing the game, and it's why in-game penalties are comparatively light for players who fight — as long as they do it right.
Fighting in the NHL has been in decline for some time now. Bolstered by an influx of foreign-born players to whom fighting is a totally alien concept, the league has seen a marked decrease in fights from the more pugilistic 1970s and 1980s. Fighting is a vestige of the old days, though players still recognize its significance: In the most recent Players' Association poll, an overwhelming 98 percent of players said fighting should not be banned from the NHL.
But an episode like last Friday's was more than fighting. Hockey fans watching video replays of that night can see an unmistakable difference in the tenor of those fights, which clearly demonstrate a premeditated decision by the entire organization to abandon sportsmanship.
There was no code, only intent to injure, and to exact violent payback for perceived injustices by any means necessary. That's why the Islanders organization, not just individual players, was fined for the incident.
It's not only dishonorable — it's dangerous for the players involved and an embarrassment to the league. It does nothing to make the game appeal to fans interested in the speed and excitement of hockey. It just makes the sport look like a barbaric curiosity.
