Brophy on hockey: Tough gig
Posted August 24, 2011 12:29 pm.
This article is more than 5 years old.
Many hockey fans love a good fight.
I wonder though how many really truly appreciate what the NHL’s tough guys, especially those who really don’t do much other than fight, go through. Those bouts that many of us take for granted can keep the toughest of tough guys awake long after most others have drifted off to dreamland.
It doesn’t surprise former NHLer Brad May that some hockey fighters turn to booze and drugs to numb the pain and anxiety they feel given their chosen profession. That said, May is quick to point out people from all walks of life abuse alcohol and drugs and it certainly isn’t just professional athletes.
“It’s a coping mechanism,” May said. “Drinking alcohol is not a bad thing if you can control it, but if it controls you, that’s when it’s a bad thing. Sometimes when people drink they do it to get away from their fears or inhibitions.”
Following the deaths of two of the NHL’s most renowned tough guys this summer, Derek Boogaard of the New York Rangers and Rick Rypien of the Winnipeg Jets, NHL commissioner Gary Bettman has suggested the league needs to review its policy on substance abuse. Boogaard had been in rehab, but died of a drug overdose. Rypien, meanwhile, battled depression and took his own life.
NHL history is littered with fighters who battled substance abuse. Bob Probert and John Kordic are two of the more high-profile tough guys who battled addiction and died much too early. There are many others. And, as May said, it isn’t just hockey’s fighters who have been dragged down by substance abuse. Some of the game’s most skilled players have battled the bottle and drugs, too.
The 39-year-old May, who retired prior to the start of last season after playing 1,041 games over 19 seasons, knows first-hand how much fighting can affect a player’s psyche. During a playoff game against the Minnesota Wild in 2006-2007, the year his Anaheim Ducks won the Stanley Cup, May popped the Wild’s Kim Johnsson in the kisser with an unexpected punch that immediately set up a date for him down the road with Boogaard, widely regarded as the NHL’s most feared fighter.
May, who is 6-foot-1 and 215 pounds, knew he’d have to fight Boogaard, who was 6-foot-8 and weighed 260 pounds at some point.
“Some would say I sucker-punched Kim Johnsson, but I would disagree,” May said. “Regardless, I punched Johnsson first and he was injured. He was coming into the scrum. If it was me coming into the scrum my gloves would be off and I’d be looking for a partner. He came into the pile and really wasn’t paying attention. I was suspended for three playoff games.
“We ended up beating Minnesota out the next game and I knew, right from the second I hit Johnsson, that they had the toughest guy in the NHL and for me to be honourable and accountable for my actions, the next time we played Minnesota, I’m going to have to stand up for what I did and I’d have to fight the toughest guy on their team. If he wants to fight four times then I have to fight him four times.”
May had fought Boogaard once before, as a member of the Colorado Avalanche, but he said that wasn’t much of a bout. Now he had all summer to think about his next meeting with the NHL’s biggest and baddest fighter. He knew it was coming, but he certainly wasn’t looking forward to it.
“I worked out hard that summer and the days I didn’t feel like training or wanted to cut a workout short, what kept me going was the notion that three or four months from now I’m going to have to pay the piper for what I’d done,” May recalled. “I fully expected that Boogaard was champing at the bit to fight me. I owed it not only to Johnsson, but also to Boogaard, because he was Minnesota’s tough guy, to stand up for myself. I had crossed the line, but I knew I would be accountable for it.”
The big day finally arrived Oct. 14, 2007. It was an afternoon game (5 p.m. start) in Anaheim and May said the four days leading up to that contest — to the inevitable showdown with Boogaard — were a living hell.
“We played on a Wednesday so I had all day Thursday, Friday and Saturday and most of Sunday to think about this fight I was going to have with Boogaard,” he said. “I knew it was coming. I had heard a saying that goes, ‘The anticipation of death is worse than death itself,’ and I know that to be true. It wasn’t a good place to be. I had to sleep with the lights on.”
May said the impending fight wreaked havoc on his life.
“My mood was affected,” he said. “I was really short with everybody; irritable and frustrated. I still had to live my life, practise and pick up the kids from school, but at the end of the day everybody knew I was uncomfortable.
“On the Saturday morning before the fight my wife, Brigette, said, ‘What’s wrong with you? You’ve basically been an ass the past few days.’ I was like, ‘Are you kidding me? I’m going to the slaughter tomorrow and nobody seems to care.’ She said, ‘I have the perfect song for you. It’s by U2: Sunday Blood Sunday.’ It was pretty funny.
“That night I went to bed around midnight, but I couldn’t sleep. It’s 1 o’clock…2 o’clock…3 o’clock. I still couldn’t sleep so I got up and went on YouTube and watched every fight I could with guys who were 6-foot-6. The thing is, he’s 6-foot-8. I watched Jim Kyte against Tie Domi. What does the shorter guy do to protect himself and possibly win the fight? I think I feel asleep around 5 a.m.”
The inevitable showdown occurred in the second period and after all the build-up, it wasn’t really much of a scrap. That said, May landed a few good punches on his much bigger opponent and didn’t absorb any hard hits to the head. He had survived.
“It was a good fight,” May declared. “I did alright. I don’t even think he hit me other than in the ribs, which hurt for about a week. The respect I got from players around the league was amazing. I think Boogaard even respected me. I faced up to him.”
May was not a player that only played in the NHL because of his fighting ability. He could play the game, too, scoring 127 goals and 289 points top go with his 2,248 penalty minutes. But with 155 fighting majors to his credit, according to hockeyfights.com, May knows a thing or two about the life of a scrapper.
“It might be the toughest job in all of hockey,” May said. “You are appreciated by your teammates, but it’s a heck of a way to make a living.”
