SYNOPSIS
What book are we doing?
Jacques Plante: The Man Who Changed the Face of Hockey, by Todd Denault
Why are we doing it?
Because Jacques Plante showed us how we can think about questioning outdated norms – in hockey and beyond.
How can we use it?
To help us frame a discussion about fighting in hockey.
To remind us to consider whether our actions are supporting our desired outcome.
To be aware that codes and norms are all around us and keep us from thinking critically.
“Today’s certainties will be tomorrow’s absurdities.”
-Peter Drucker
For the NHL’s first 40+ years, goalies didn’t wear masks. They were expected to protect their nets from a barrage of cold, hard-rubber projectiles flying at them at up to 100 miles per hour with nothing to protect their faces or heads. In the 1950s, the idea of any goalie wearing a mask was just as foreign as not wearing a mask is to us today.
The opposition to change wasn’t rooted in logic or good sense, but in an unwritten code. While opponents justified and explained their resistance and distain for masks in many ways:
- It’s just not necessary.
- Do boxers wear masks?
- He’s been successful without one.
- My face is my mask.
the true reason was a collective belief that “real men don’t wear masks.”
The code took a toll on goalies’ mental health, ending careers prematurely. Bill Durnan, a goaltending superstar and Jacques Plante’s idol, retired abruptly because the perpetual threat of injury diminished his desire to play. “It got so bad I couldn’t sleep on the night before a game. I couldn’t even keep my meals down. I felt that nothing was worth that kind of agony.” Durnan and others followed the code and quit rather than wearing a mask and continuing to play the game they loved.
On November 1, 1959, Andy Bathgate, playing right wing for the New York Rangers, shot (intentionally and vengefully) a puck at Jacques Plante’s unprotected face and cut him form the corner of his mouth to his nostril. After being stitched up, Plante returned to the ice . . . wearing a mask.
Once Plante challenged the code, “It didn’t take long for many to see that Plante was right, and slowly other goalies began adopting his tactic.” A decade later, it was more unusual to see a goalie without a mask than with one.
While the goalie-mask code is gone from hockey, others remain. Last month, the NHL hosted the 4-Nations Face-Off. On February 15, 2025, when Canada faced the United States in the preliminary round, three players from the US initiated three separate and sequential pre-meditated fights with three Canadian players in the first nine seconds of the game.
In a post-game interview, Matthew Tkachuk rationalized: “We needed to send a message… It’s our time.”[1] Scoring more goals than Canada in the championship game would have been a more effective way to send that message.
Predictably, many commentators and pundits – protectors of the code – celebrated this fight-fest and fabricated a narrative about the importance of fist fights as a crucial element of hockey’s greatness. Long live the code. But even Canada’s coach, Jon Cooper, got caught in the trap of defending the code. When asked if fighting belongs in hockey, he responded, “I didn’t see anybody running for the exits.” Cooper has earned a reputation as a thoughtful and even-keeled coach – not an old-school grump who leads with fear and clings to the past. But his rationale is identical to Don Cherry’s in 1992 after a fight between Bob Probert and Tie Domi: “Twenty-thousand people there. Goin’ nuts. And you people that don’t like fighting. How many of ya’ did ya’ walk out and get a coffee while that was on?”[2] People don’t run for the exits or turn away when there’s a car crash, either – they slow down to watch. “People are watching it” is not the sole metric for measuring success. If it were, the game would be very different.
“Men’s resistance to help-seeking (for depression and suicidality) has most often been explained by their alignments to masculine norms (e.g., strength, stoicism, and self-reliance).”[3] In recent years, players, former players, and the players’ association (NHLPA) have made efforts to bring attention and support to mental health. Their efforts to address this difficult challenge are commendable. During that time, some players have asked for and received help, including through their Player Assistance Program. Some have died from their illness. Some have shared their stories of addiction, depression, abuse, trauma, OCD, and other mental illness. None that I’m aware of talks about how useful fighting was in their path to recovery. Fighting seems more likely to be a symptom of their illness and/or a contributing factor in making it worse.
Codes are all around us – in life, business, politics, community, and in hockey. Their power to prevent change thrives behind four protectors:
- Dogma: a religious fervor for how things must be; actively defending the current state without question; anyone who disagrees must be either stupid or evil or both; “Have to,” “Need to,” “Can’t”
- Dismissiveness: a similar but scaled-down version of dogma; less forceful articulation of the message, but with no openness to hearing an alternate perspective; “That’s how we’ve always done it,” “That’s not how we do it here.” “What’s the big deal?”
- Defeatism: resignation to whatever is going on around you; acting as if the world is happening to you, and you have no ability to choose or influence; “It is what it is”
- Daydreaming: head in the sand, oblivious, and not paying attention; haven’t even considered it; life unquestioned; “Huh?” “Hadn’t really thought about it”
Several years after Plante’s mask-wearing premiere, Chicago goalie Glenn Hall moved past the four protectors and admitted what was really behind the code, “I thought he was a wimp.” There’s no end to the list of excuses we can use to justify the real reason we allow and encourage fighting in hockey. But if we’re serious about players’ mental health, and the kids’ who idolize them, we could use a few wimps to stand up for themselves and their teammates, and put an end to punching each other’s faces in.
On June 14, 1999, Time Magazine[4] named the ten most influential athletes of the twentieth century. One hockey player made the list. It wasn’t the one who scored the most, had the best save percentage, skated fastest, was the most talented, the best fighter, or the first at any hockey skill or move. It was the one who challenged the code himself and changed it for everyone in the game.
[1] https://www.sportsnet.ca/nhl/video/this-is-our-time-matthew-tkachuk-sends-message-to-hockey-fans/
[2] Day, G (Director). (2019.) Tough Guy: The Bob Probert Story [Film]. Nightschool Films. (at 5:00 mark of documentary)
[3] Oliffe JL, Rossnagel E, Seidler ZE, Kealy D, Ogrodniczuk JS, Rice SM. Men’s Depression and Suicide. Curr Psychiatry Rep. 2019 Sep 14;21(10):103. doi: 10.1007/s11920-019-1088-y. PMID: 31522267.
[4] https://time.com/archive/6735671/the-10-most-influential-athletes-of-the-century/
