VUE  (Edmonton)         books revue           T.C. Shaw            January 7-13, 1999

Book tells why hockey is so pucked up 
     Americans blame game's decline on callous owners

"Hockey must be a great game to survive the men who run it." 


    That, ironically, is a quote from Conn Smythe, a Hall-of-Famer and one of the NHL's 
chief builders.  It amply illustrates that the problems caused by an uncaring administration 
are nothing new to the NHL, but hockey is currently under attack from its own ranks like 
never before.  If you believe it's only the residents of Quebec City and Winnipeg who are 
still riled about losing their NHL franchises, think again. 


    A decent number of hockey fans who have watched their game become a shadow of its 
former self are becoming angry enough to do something about it.  In fact, two U.S.-based 
writers, Jeff Z. Klein and Karl-Eric Reif, have co-written what amounts to a call to arms 
for hockey fans, exhorting them to pay attention to the slow but sure deterioration of 
"the greatest game on earth" -- and to take action against the NHL for mismanaging its 
strongest asset:  hockey played with speed, skill and, most importantly, meaning. 


The Death of Hockey (or: How a bunch of guys with too much money and too little sense 
are killing the greatest game on earth) lambastes the NHL for ignoring hockey's rich heritage, 
its almost mythic traditions and immense legacy of heroes, stories and amazing anecdotes.  
With chapter titles such as "Paradise Lost," "More Is Less" and "Empire of the Suits," 
The Death of Hockey asks the ultimate question, namely:  "Have all us fans doddered off into 
some gauzy, nostalgic fantasy of hockey that never was?  Or has hockey taken a wrong turn 
and a running jump and thrown itself off a cliff?" 


Bettman: the dark knight 


    The book says no, your senses haven't left you and, yes, something's definitely wrong with 
hockey -- but it's not the game, it's the men who run it.  Klein and Reif present  their arguments 
with wit and good old common sense, taking NHL commissioner Gary Bettman and his 
henchmen to task (actually, the pair neatly take Bettman apart) for turning his back on hockey's 
loyal base audience in a misguided attempt to attract a new one. 


    Always questioning Bettman's eminently questionable motives, the pair's arguments hit home 
on a number of fronts.  They take issue with the NHL's insistence that there's something 
fundamentally wrong with the game as it stands.  What's really wrong, contend Klein and Reif, 
is the league's callous disregard for its own game:  tolerating oversized goalie equipment, 
slack officiating, needless fireworks, cloying mascots, hideous uniforms, goofy team names; 
allowing true rivalries to fall by the wayside -- trends that have erected an "invisible wall" 
between the fans and the game they love. 


    The passion Klein feels for the game is infectious, even over the telephone from New York.  
Seen through Klein's eyes, hockey becomes a religion, the Forum a temple, a cathedral.  (Damn, 
he's right -- they never should have allowed it to be demolished.)  As we talked, I started 
thinking about the countless moments of delirious joy, blinding fury and utter, blank dejection 
I've experienced simply by watching a dozen guys on skates chase a little piece of vulcanized 
black rubber around the ice. 


    According to Klein, there's a "deep connection between the fans and the game.  That roar 
when a goal is scored, that's almost a sexual thing, and the league is tampering with it."  Exhibit 
A in The Death of Hockey is the video replay, a device that has virtually replaced the sound of 
spontaneous, rapturous applause with the Jeopardy! theme while the ref awaits "the phone call 
upstairs."  Pathetic, eh? 


An Aud occurrence 


    Klein's experiences at his beloved Buffalo Auditorium back up his statements.  In the '80's, 
Klein and Reif noticed the gradual, insidious disappearance of homemade signage around the 
Aud.  They later noticed that when the signs finally reappeared, they weren't as caustically witty 
as they once were.  (As Reif puts it, "If I hadn't been a cartoonist and graphic artist, I wouldn't 
have noticed that every one was hand-painted on computer paper in the same handwriting.")  
The ostensible reason for removing home-made signage?  They were obstructing other fans' 
sightlines. 


    Klein also observes that the hellish pop music each fan must endure before each and every 
face-off is not about pumping up fan support.  The game is supposed to do that.  He maintains 
(and I agree wholeheartedly), that "the whole idea of these big scoreboards [and loud music] 
is to shut you up."  How many times have you heard a "Go Oilers Go" chant start up from the 
nosebleed section of the Skyreach Centre (or whatever they're calling it this week), only to be 
drowned out by a chorus of "Jumpin' Jack Flash"?  (The scoreboard will then hypocritically 
encourage us to "Make Noise!")  The worst thing is, none of these B-grade theatrics are even 
necessary.  As The Death of Hockey succinctly puts it, "This isn't what we came to see!" 


    Besides attacking the NHL's ridiculous recent attempts to sell hockey to the Sun Belt -- 
destroying age-old rivalries by moving teams from established hockey markets to established 
beach volleyball markets -- Klein and Reif address the question of rapid, unchecked expansion, 
which dilutes the talent pool and creates too many meaningless regular season games. 


    Klein and Reif expose many other league screw-ups, including permitting the demolition of 
rickety-but-venerable hockey cathedrals such as the Montreal Forum, Boston Garden and 
Detroit Olympia -- buildings with the kind of ambiance that can't be manufactured on demand 
-- in the name of luxury corporate skyboxes for the very few who can afford them. 


Hooray for American television! 


    Television contracts are now the NHL's only source of the kind of revenue they need 
to keep the bloated league alive.  Klein and Reif detail the NHL's painfully inept dealings 
with U.S. television networks, but argue that, no matter how much we Canadians whine, 
American TV coverage is all that prevents the league from losing its last shreds of respect 
from citizens south of the border. 


    The only contentious issue The Death of Hockey raises concerns fighting.  Here again, 
American television becomes paramount to saving the game we know, and Klein and Reif 
convincingly argue that fisticuffs aren't even necessary in hockey.  Don't just blow off their 
opinion, now;  they've actually played the game, so it's not as if they're blowing smoke on 
this one.  Remember that fighting really puts a black eye (if you'll pardon the expression) on 
the game down south -- even in places like New York, Minnesota and Michigan, where 
Americans already know how to "follow our puck." 


    If you or someone you love is experiencing withdrawal from quality hockey, Klein and Reif 
suggest you become organized.  They have a website where your voice and opinions will be 
heard.  You can log on to their site at ChaptersGlobe:Community:Discussions:Open Book. 


    You can also try the Ottawa-based NHLFA.com, which is the NHL Fans Association 
website, maintained by "two guys named Jim."  The idea behind the site is to mirror England's 
Football Supporters Association, where fans' voices get heard.  As Klein puts it, "If there are 
enough members in there, they'll become something that'll have to be listened to." 


    Ultimately, we fans have to get on board.  "Make your opinions known," advises Klein, 
or the greatest game on Earth may one day become about as exciting as televised bowling, 
all thanks to the clowns who control the game, but who many suspect don't understand it -- 
or even like it that much.