Media, Hockey and the irksome problem of pre-made narratives.

Stop with your small-minded pre-determined narratives about our game—that’s my role.

I’ve long been influenced by Waldorf and Statler, and Mystery Science Theatre 3000. Middle age suits me better than youth. I suspect old age will be my finest hours. I am prone to sarcastic dismal of popular culture. It is one of the cheap and easy ways I pretend I’m smarter than I am. This doesn’t change when I watch hockey.

I like making fun of McGuire’s overload of enthusiasm. I enjoy mocking Hughson’s fascination with players’ active sticks. I delight in abusing all those things that don’t fit my narrow view of this world. This is not the case for non-hockey sentiments. I accept other opinions about politics, religion and culture. I may not think they are right, but I accept they have that right.

My mind is small when I watch hockey.

I don’t say this because I enjoy self-deprecating humour—although that is true. I don’t say this because I want you to feel sorry for me and be charitable to my musings—although that would be super. I say this so you understand my biases. I have a particular view of the hockey world I will not compromise. I believe Brendan Shanahan was the ideal hockey player. He was skilled, tough, funny, well-loved by teammates, and tough (did I mention that). He could score, pass, fight, and skate off the ice and hop over a bench with a broken ankle (seriously, he did that).

However, I despise this small-mindedness in my paid commentators and analysts. I hate the ready-made narrative and preconceived story arcs that writers and t.v. hosts rely on. Intellectually, I understand that we need to frame the world with a narrow vision. The world becomes too big and complex to understand without them. But hockey is already small. And I want something more satisfying than a pre-made story about ‘waking up Lucic’, or ‘the Kings hitting their stride’. I loathe stories about ‘Ovechkin choking’ or ‘how Detroit does it right’.

The continuous priming of our hockey watching shifts the focus of my consciousness too far to the side of intellect. Seeing pre-made stories of ‘Kesler going into beast mode’, becomes an irresistible itch for my smug, educated self. I watch hockey to balance my mind between the frothing idiocy of fandom and a deeper analytic understanding of the systems and technical parts of the game.   

Studies of media and news organizations show us that big companies set the agenda for what we are allowed to talk about. The big news channels prime the viewer to accept certain storylines and they make the world a little smaller and more manageable because of this. Hockey is not different. Key words, key phrases, and key concepts become the starting point for every conversation. Once you pick them out, they are a constant bump in the road to joyful celebration or alcohol-soaked melancholy. You can’t ignore them.

And to the future analysts, I will mock after a few too many pretentious micro-brewed craft ales that I only buy because of the high alcohol content and to feel cool in front of the pretty sales girl, I ask you don’t ignore them either. Avoid clichés, common sayings and popular wisdom. If you are a colour analyst, then add some colour please. These pre-determined narratives are grey and dull. Don’t fill every open space with useless sound. Take a second and construct your thoughts. Ask yourself: Does this add valuable content to a viewer’s enjoyment of the game? Or, am I merely spitting up the first things that fell from my mind? Are you elevating the game, or surrendering to a narcissistic fascination with your own voice?

In the end, I know this is a petty request. But sometimes life sucks pretty hard. Like so many others, I use hockey to escape from that reality for a time. I want to revel in the glorious movement of athletic achievement and arbitrary alliances. I don’t want my mind to drift too far from the pretty dancing lights on the screen. These rote descriptions are either too easy to ignore, or too grating to get past. In each case, the mind becomes susceptible to musings of reality. And nobody wants that.