The problem with sticking up for Billy Smith is that he does it so well himself. Stick up, I mean. In fact, that is exactly what will put him out of hockey for six games, a punishment most folks in Chicago who follow collision skating consider a slap on the mittens.
Smith, for those who think the only sensible use for ice is to tame bourbon, is the goaltender for the New York Islanders. He wears a cage on his face and mattresses on his hands and carries a cudgel that he sometimes uses to hit a hockey puck. Other times he uses it to bludgeon people, and that usually is good for a stern scolding.
Most recently it was good for a suspension, though the logic behind the censure of Smith is curious. He was determined not to be guilty of actual assault but was held responsible for causing an accident. In the real world, this would translate into manslaughter, had anyone died.
Not that the rules of hockey parallel the rules of civilized behavior. If they did, we would have ice dancing and empty arenas.
A short time back, Smith poked his stick into the face of Black Hawk Curt Fraser, rearranging considerable tissue and causing immediate pain. How damaged Fraser’s psyche is has yet to be determined, though one imagines he will be reluctant to skate into peril face-first for a while.
After allowing nature to knit his face back to some semblance of the one in his team photo, Fraser has returned to combat. Smith awaits his sentence without regret.
There should be no surprise in any of this. Any game that puts clubs in the hands of its contestants invites their use as weapons. Anyone who thinks otherwise will also insist that he can see the puck, which we all know is a fantasy born out of the need not to appear stupid for sitting around watching shabbily dressed Canadians, and the odd American, chase the invisible.
What passes for order in hockey is the penalizing of unsanctioned violence, divided into major and minor infractions. Smith’s immediate punishment for cracking Fraser was minor, 2 minutes of inactivity, served, as is the fashion for goalies, by a proxy whose only crime was to be a teammate. Hockey disciples know this kind of thing happens all the time, and in fact, Smith is notorious for fending off attackers with his stick. Smith is rather a pioneer of the art.
Smith refuses to allow any opponents to camp near the net. He’ll whack them to keep them from coming too close and to keep his field of vision from becoming cluttered.
I think that’s fair.
Hockey goalies have to be the most vulnerable targets in sports. A modern slapshot will travel more than 100 miles an hour, and even when the puck can be seen, it cannot always be avoided. That’s why goalies wear masks. In fact, on the night of Smith’s transgression, Black Hawk goalie Murray Bannerman was excused from the game after being struck with a deflected puck, a natural hazard to which no one raised objection.
Most hockey goals are scored, not elegantly, when a bunch of guys gang up in front of the net, and suddenly the puck comes screaming out of the chaos towards the solitary guardian of the goal.
Even occasional hockey watchers ought to understand that goalies should be allowed to sweep away the debris of ambush.
Though Smith does not move more than a couple of yards all night, he’s more fun to watch than Wayne Gretzky or Mike Bossy or any of the scorers on ice.
I can’t identify with the agility of ice skaters, but I can with the stubbornness of Smith. He could be any of us under attack, turning back assailants, protecting our homes, defending our honor, refusing to cry uncle. There is a nobility in what Smith does and a fascination for the way he does it. Smith attacks from goal. He dives and stretches and smothers and slashes and punches. He is not dainty.
Smith is that marvel of athletes, both hero and villain. It is possible to be both in hockey, if not common.
Hockey is not unlike roller derby. You have good guys and bad guys, and if you confuse your audience over which is which, they will ignore you for comic books.
You picture Smith as the guy who stays behind in the foxhole while medics carry the wounded to safety, daring the enemy to cross him.
Those guys usually get medals. Or eulogies.