The two things that I feel we've found out about the impact of fighting in the last while are:
1) Concussions are not the only measure of whether head trauma is occuring. Sub concussive blows are a significant factor in the development of brain injuries:
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The third finding of note was that BVS, “detected changes in cognitive processing speeds at the end of the season for players who did not receive any concussion diagnoses, implicating sub-concussive effects.”
Dr. Shaun Fickling of SFU, the lead author on the study, said that players who had not been diagnosed with concussions showed “decreased cognitive processing speed post season — thought to be the result of ‘sub-concussive impacts.’” Fickling did also suggest that these readings could be the result of concussions which were not diagnosed.
This is not the first study to link sub-concussive blows to changes in brain function. In January 2018, Boston University School of Medicine released a study that showed repeated sub-concussive blows can, like concussions, cause chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE).
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2) The psychological / emotional toll that prescribed violence has on some players is injurious to their health and shows up most prominently as substance use among the most frequent combatants.
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Clune explains that his problems with drugs and alcohol stemmed from existing in a constant state of fear. “I put on a mask to deal with the fear,” he states, explaining that once you get drafted to the OHL as a sixteen year old, you forced to be part of a culture which involves heavy drinking and constantly being surrounded by men. Clune talks about putting on a mask to deal with the state of fear. “You put on the mask, and it never goes away. When you get drafted, you put on the mask to deal with the pressure of getting a contract. When you get your contract, you put on the mask to deal with the sleepless night before you know you have to go out and drop the gloves with the 6’5” monster on the other team. When you finally pull on that NHL sweater, you put on the mask to deal with that ever-present fear that it could all go away in an instant.” Clune says.
One day, he woke up and realized he had had enough. He writes that he wished he had arrived at the realization earlier, when his parents and the assistant General Manager of the Los Angeles Kings Ron Hextall asked him to get help. “A lot of guys never got so lucky. We have lost too many of them over the years to the darkness of depression and drug abuse and alcoholism,” he says.
Several other players in the NHL (both past and present) have suffered from problems involving alcohol and drug abuse, but most have not and will never open up about it. Luckily, Clune is one of the few athletes who have been able to come forward with his story, and hopefully will now be able to serve as an outlet for other players who do suffer from the same problems he once suffered from, and help them on the path to recovery.
Derek Boogaard, a notable 6’7”, 265lb left-winger who played for the Minnesota Wild and the New York Rangers, was considered to be one of the most intimidating players in the NHL. Boogaard was found dead in his bed after overdosing on a mixture of alcohol and prescription Percocet. While his death may have been accidental, other issues were raised on how the situation may have been prevented. Boogaard’s father expressed concerns to the NHL about the way Derek’s drug abuse had been handled, and maybe even enabled, by the two teams he played for.
Two other players, Rick Rypien and Wade Belak, were also both found dead within a four-month span following the death of Boogaard. Rypien was playing for the Vancouver Canucks but was then assigned to their minor team, the Manitoba Moose. A few months later, he signed to the Winnipeg Jets, and had another shot to play in the NHL, but soon after was found dead in his home in August 2011.
The deaths forced past enforcers of the NHL and sportswriters to question the role of ‘the enforcer’ and how the league was dealing with the stress of the position. An enforcer generally plays the role of the intimidator for their respective team, and is known to be the fighter and instigator. Another well known enforcer of the NHL, Georges Laraque stated that he never liked being in the position he was in, something that Clune also agreed with, but they both made careers serving the same role.
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So now that the enforcer role is gone, maybe it's time to examine the role of fighting altogether.
What must it be like for a guy like Lucic to be so publicly shamed for not engaging in fights as the de facto pugilist for this team? What an awful experience it must be knowing you need to fight in the eyes of the team and fans in order to continue to live your dream and support your family?
What an upsetting existence that must be. What kind of savages are we to demand that of someone in the name of 'sport'?
It has no place in the modern game, imo.