By Nathan Safir
EDITOR’S NOTE: This article was originally published in the Spring 2020 Magazine.
The past year has been especially tumultuous for the ice hockey community. Inside both professional clubs and the hockey media, high-profile coaches and reporters have been fired due to unprofessional, misogynistic, and racist behavior. Jim Montgomery of the Dallas Stars was fired in December 2019 due to a “material act of unprofessionalism.” The Chicago Blackhawks dismissed Assistant Coach Marc Crawford for kicking a former player while in a previous coaching job. More concerningly, former coach Bill Peters left the Calgary Flames after disclosures that he had punched several players, used racist language around his team, and even said a racial epithet when talking to a black former player.
This increase in firings extends beyond NHL coaching circles. Jeremy Roenick, a former hockey great and more recently a broadcaster for NBC Sports Network, was fired due to inappropriate sexual comments he made on a podcast about a female coworker. The sheer frequency of these firings is enough to characterize this moment as aberrant within the sport’s history. The force of public pressure, along with the self-reporting of former players and staff, has pierced the culture inside high-profile hockey clubs. Analogies to the #MeToo movement are obvious and, to some extent, accurate.
No high-profile firing in the hockey world, however, compares in magnitude to Don Cherry’s termination from “Hockey Night in Canada.” For an American audience, Cherry’s background may require explanation, as analogies to popular American sports analysts like Bob Costas or Dick Vitale do not capture Cherry’s fame among Canadians. Born in 1934, Cherry worked for decades in Canadian sports broadcasting, hosting the “Coach’s Corner” segment on “Hockey Night in Canada” for over 33 seasons. Cherry is known for his flamboyant suits, outspoken politics, and opinionated nature. He advocates a tough, Canadian style of hockey, favoring grit and work ethic over speed and finesse. Cherry also advocates for the Canadian military and against environmentalism and left-wing “pinkos” (a Canadian derogatory term for liberals). At times, it is difficult to separate Cherry’s views on hockey from his views on politics. Rather, Cherry’s ideas about what hockey should be are linked to his ideas about what Canada should be — Cherry’s favored brand of hockey was a tool in constructing a sense of Canadian national identity and national pride.
Cherry was beloved by his country; a 2004 CBC series ranked him the seventh greatest Canadian of all time, three spots ahead of Wayne Gretzky. But Cherry’s zeal for a yeoman style of hockey and Canadian nationalism often went too far. In 1989, Cherry questioned if the Winnipeg Jets’ Finnish-born assistant coach Alpo Suhonen’s name was “some kind of dog food,” prompting the Jets owner to accuse Cherry of racism. His frequent outbursts against the French and other Europeans in 1993 caused a Quebec MP to call in the House of Commons to censure Cherry for “taking a malicious pleasure in ridiculing francophones.” Cherry’s most costly slip, however, came only last year, when he suggested immigrants (“you people,” as referred to by Cherry) rarely wear poppies as tribute to the Canadian armed forces because they do not appreciate the Canadian way of life. Despite withstanding a history of provocative comments, this incident promptly led to Cherry’s firing.
Don Cherry’s firing could be taken as a changing of the guard for hockey media. While Cherry had earned legendary status in his home country decades ago, it seems Canadians may be losing patience with his xenophobia and close-mindedness. And while it may be a stretch to claim Cherry’s departure has created a vacuum in hockey media, his absence does pose a question to the rest of the hockey world: how will hockey now be defined in the broader cultural imagination?
One name, more than any other, has attempted to answer this question. The Barstool Sports podcast “Spittin Chiclets” is hosted by the duo of retired NHL players Ryan Whitney and Paul Bisonnette, alongside hockey writer Brian “Rear Admiral” McGonigle. Beginning operations in 2016 (sans Bisonette), “Chiclets” has quickly become the premier hockey podcast. “Spittin Chiclets” captures Barstool’s signature style of brash and bro-y reporting — it is not uncommon for a host to trail off into an account of a drug experience or sexual exploit while in the middle of an interview with one of hockey’s most influential figures. But this choice has paid dividends. In May of 2020, Chartable ranked “Chiclets” the fourteenth most popular sports podcast in the United States and one of the top ten most popular podcasts of any genre in Canada. “Spittin Chiclets” has also hosted a who’s who of famous hockey-related guests, including Sidney Crosby, Connor McDavid, and many former NHL stars.
Due to its medium or perhaps the attitudes of its hosts, interviews on “Spittin Chiclets” often illuminate a side of the interviewees not seen in traditional magazine or newspaper profiles. This uncanny profiling ability is highlighted in a recent video feature with two of the greatest (and most serious) players in modern hockey, Sidney Crosby and Nathan Mackinnon; the two famously stoic automatons fell victim to the charisma of Whitney and Bissonette, showing a looseness rarely, if ever, captured by media. In an interview with Noah Janofsky, host of the sports-centered “PUP Podcast” and frequent guest on “The Hockey 411”, Janofsky likens the podcast to “going to the rink” with the guest, talking to them while they “get dressed,” “take a shower,” and “go home.” “Chiclets” is “authentic” in representing players and the game in a way other podcasts and interviews are not. Janofsky says the NHL, as opposed to leagues like the NBA, has shown little interest in marketing individual players. “Chiclets” provides a platform for players to show their characters and personalities. Yet this level of comfort can also prove threatening, at least to “Chiclets” guests. The comments that led to Jeremy Roenick’s firing first appeared on “Spittin Chiclets”. The open and free-flowing nature of the interviews can be both a blessing and a curse.
If its viewership and capability to end the career of one of hockey’s top broadcasters is evidence of the podcast’s influence, it is fair to ask the question of where exactly “Chiclets” stands on the spectrum of journalism, and whether this position has any associated responsibilities. On one hand, “Spittin Chiclets” has an extraordinary level of access to top hockey personalities. The podcast has also, perhaps incidentally, become an important source in breaking hockey news. Sportsnet hockey insider Elliotte Friedman recently told The Globe and Mail that “if you’re covering hockey, and you’re not aware of what’s going on their podcast, you are missing something.” In spite of its standing, “Chiclets” also ignores the journalistic standards adopted by most media publications. In reference to the Jeremy Roenick incident, the hosts of “Chiclets” claimed in the following episode that they never intend to “get guys in trouble,” even allowing their guests to edit the interview before it is published. This practice would certainly be condemned by the Society for Professional Journalists (SPJ), as the SPJ code of ethics prohibits “conflicts of interest” and “deliberately distort[ing] facts or context,” both of which are violated by giving an interviewee access to the transcript. The questioning toward guests is almost entirely sympathetic, as the show is built on a ‘for hockey players, by hockey players’ philosophy. After the Dallas Stars released Jim Montgomery with almost no indication of his wrongdoing, Bisonette claimed on the program that he knew why Montgomery was terminated (later revealed to be gambling) but refused to reveal it, as he thought doing so would cause more harm than good. Giving up a scoop to ensure the well-being of other parties is certainly admirable, especially in today’s media landscape. But the instinct to protect other hockey professionals could prove dangerous in other contexts.
“Spittin Chiclets” can be classified as a form of pseudo-journalism; it itself does not purport to be journalism, but is still important within the media landscape and important in presenting information to its viewership. “Chiclets” has not been implicated in covering up any incidents within the hockey community, and the platform has been used to raise money for charities and promote women’s hockey. But due to the editorial decisions of its hosts and its lack of obligation to present facts at the standard of an actual journalistic entity, “Chiclets” is able to amplify one perspective: the perspective of those who have power within the hockey community. These favorable portrayals of those with institutional power or personal influence in hockey can undermine efforts to hold the same group accountable. While traditional media outlets are, to some degree, responsible for enforcing some level of accountability and conduct for hockey’s most powerful, “Chiclets” does not seem to be interested.
It would be wrong to claim that “Chiclets” is simply the new, reanimated Don Cherry. The two are vastly different, but perhaps that is the point. Cherry justified absolving hockey of its sins, its barbery, by arguing that keeping a certain type of hockey was imperative for keeping a certain type of Canada. As public pressure began to mount against Cherry’s rhetoric, this narrative did not suffice. In its place, “Chiclets” argues that it is the camaraderie of hockey, its stories and its friendships, that excuses not only misdoings within the hockey community, but their own lack of criticism and abdication of traditional journalistic practices. The “Chiclets” brand of pseudo-journalism obscures the impact of prejudice, abuse of power, and institutional wrongdoing in the hockey community.
Combatting these idealized narratives to hold powerful people accountable requires the presence of strong facts-based journalism. However, traditional journalism seems to be losing ground not only in hockey, but in all spheres. Subsequently, there appears to be an increased blending of journalism with pseudo-journalism. Legitimate Democratic primary candidates have granted popular interviews with the Joe Rogan Experience, an outlet whose lack of criticism and journalistic integrity (though Rogan himself would likely claim they are not trying to practice journalism) have additionally made it popular for guests with overtly racist and socially regressive views. In a similar vein, a Pew Research Center poll indicated that 55 percent of Americans get at least some of their news from social media, mixing facts-based reporting with external commentary. Concurrently, local newspapers implementing important investigative journalistic practices continue to shutter, as over one in five newspapers have closed in the past fifteen years. All signs point to a worrying trend: the incorporation of journalism into a broader, less regulated category of content.
Refocusing on hockey, to address the social problems associated with masculinity, whiteness, and other forms of prejudice and violence in the sport, fans must ensure that associated media are professional and sufficiently critical. On an individual level, this means consumers must be careful about where our information is coming from, recognizing the difference between legitimate journalism and providers of entertainment content. But on another level, there needs to be a discussion regarding ethical practices for all forms of storytelling, whether it touts itself as inside or outside of the journalistic realm. No matter the topic — last night’s NHL game or the Democratic primaries — media consumers must know where information is coming from and how to protect the organizations that produce it.
Sources:
https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0156067/bio
https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0426703/
https://www.espn.com/espn/eticket/story?page=doncherry
https://www.thestar.com/news/world/2013/04/29/don_cherrys_seven_most_outrageous_moments.html