I’ve said a lot of words about the athletes in the National Hockey League in the past. Some of these opinions have been met with more backlash than others, but I believe my critics are simply afraid of the truths I speak. Here are my qualifications: I have been an out and proud bandwagon fan of the Colorado Avalanche since April of 2021–that is to say, the burgundy and blue runs in my blood. I am a dedicated BU hockey devotee, earning a free Men’s Under Armour Red Boston University Terriers Hockey Jersey (retail value $117.00) and over 20 singular tacos from El Jefe’s. I spent a brief stint on the NHL Youth Advisory Board, arguing with old men about pride jerseys and Fortnite skins. Also, I’m a lesbian, which automatically makes me more correct than everyone else.
With that established, here is a list of real, actual things I’ve said to my friends about professional male hockey players in the NHL.
- Estrogen could’ve saved her.
I know–it’s in the title of the article, but for good reason. Have you ever looked at a man? And I mean really looked at him. Past all the greasy hair, the dirty skin, the general repulsiveness, and thought: Huh. He would make a GREAT girl. I don’t expect all of you to understand me. In fact, a very small subsect of you will get it, but for the non-believers, I just ask that you walk with me here. First, hockey players are obsessed with their hair. The flow, the lettuce, whatever you want to call it. Just watch this GIF of former Anaheim Ducks players Max Jones and Maxime Comtois “recognizing the flow” of Trevor Zegras. Estrogen actually binds to receptors on hair follicles and boosts the growth phase, meaning players, once on estrogen, will find themselves with thicker, shinier, better hair, instantly raising their social status and improving their aerodynamics on the ice. Second, the fat redistribution caused by estrogen could be advantageous to players. Checking–using the body to knock an opponent in possession of the puck into the ice or against the boards–is an important part of defensive strategy. Increased body fat in the chest, hips, and thighs could lower players’ center of gravity and help them bounce off of the boards and others, enabling quicker recovery and better offense.
- They NEED to fuck.
I mean, come on. Anyone with eyes could see this. Players constantly rough each other up, get up into each other’s faces, slam each other into the boards–hell, they even drop their thick, protective gloves to fight each other. Why would you risk bloody, split knuckles, knocked-out teeth, black eyes, broken noses, just for a brief moment of reprieve? I’ll tell you why: skin-to-skin contact is necessary to alleviate the thick, palpable sexual tension that builds throughout every single game. The rough, physical nature of men’s hockey, the aggressive posturing that occurs after every whistle, are all simply proxies for the heat of raw want. You’ll never see a player skating to the penalty box after an altercation with anything but a feral smile on his face, the ecstasy of adrenaline fresh in his veins. Writing about the intersection of violence with physical desire, Richard Siken once said, “Sorry about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine.” What else is there to say?
- A BDSM relationship would fix him.
To the uninitiated, this may seem absurd. However, hockey players are notorious for being superstitious and ritualistic to the point of absurdity. Waking up at the exact same time on game days, eating the same meals, napping for the same timespan, putting gear on in a specific order, tapping doorways in the arena a certain amount of times, the list goes on. Sidney Crosby, one of the best hockey players of all time, has been wearing the exact same jockstrap every single game since 2005. These athletes desperately claw for ways to feel in control of their game, and what better way than to remove control entirely? That way, players don’t need to spend countless hours worrying about routines and superstitions–they can devote all their focus to playing the best they can. Also, these guys LOVE constructing intricate rituals:
And these rituals? Oft-painful, definitely weird, with no clear, measurable benefit. Some examples: Andre Burakovsky’s gameday superstition of Alexander Ovechkin biting him, hard. Okay, painslut! TJ Oshie and Tom Wilson hitting each other’s asses with their sticks so brutally during warmups that Oshie’s stick breaks. Get them some whips and chains, stat! And last, but certainly not least, Pekka Rinne putting an actual, literal DOG COLLAR on Juuse Saros to congratulate him for a game well played (0:54–0:59). Dear God, the narratives write themselves–this isn’t kinky subtext, it’s just text. Long live the freaks of the NHL, and may they be an inspiration for generations to come.
To those who see my vision, you know where to find me. And to all of you who are fuming right now that a random dyke is making a mockery of the sport you so adore, I simply leave you with Galatians 4:16: “Am I therefore become your enemy, because I tell you the truth?”