Hypocrisy of toughness

Hypocrisy of toughness
As a fan of sports such as NHL hockey and NFL football, I am familiar with violence being referred to as “playing tough”. Players with broken bones, torn ligaments, even brain injuries (yes, that’s what a concussion is) “showing strength” by “playing with pain”.
There is massive hypocrisy on this issue, whether it’s from the media, teams, coaches, players, and yes, even us fans.
Recently as the Vancouver 2010 Olympics were about to begin, Georgian luger Nodar Kumaritashvili was killed when during a training run. The immediate response was shock and horror at the death of a 21-year old man. But within half an hour, the questions that arose went something like this; “should we even continue to use this track which is too fast?” “Isn’t flying down a sheet of ice @ 100KMH dangerous?” this from people who any time before the Kumaritashvili tragedy would have considered “flying down a sheet of ice @ 100KMH” something “courageous”.
In the NHL there are numerous stories of players “playing hurt”. In the 1979 playoffs, Montreal Canadiens Captain Bob Gainey would have been playing with TWO dislocated shoulders. Boston Bruins greats Bobby Orr (knees) and Cam Neely (hip) had their careers cut short due to injury, yet played several seasons with serious injuries. How are these players remembered? “Tough” that’s how.
This past NFL season, I was watching a game when Dallas Cowboys’ Demarcus Ware was (what seemed like) severely injured. It looked like his neck and/or back may be injured. About 15 “medical staff” were on the field (which seemed excessive to me, but I digress), he was finally carted out on a stretcher, and would be taken to hospital. Now the announcers were stating how dangerous the game of football is, how the athletes of today are “bigger, stronger, and faster”. Which entails that in a brutally physical game like football, contact can (and likely will) lead to severe injury. Less than 15 minutes later (after the game had resumed of course), there was a massive tackle (from which both players got right up from) which was described as “two guys playing hard, and playing tough”. I guess if a guy gets bashed in the head, knees, ribs, or anywhere and gets up he’s tough, but if he’s rolled out on a stretcher we need to review the rule book. Such logic only “says the right things” when someone (openly) gets injured, but it doesn’t question the appropriateness of accepted violence.
If Kumaritashvili had “only” been injured, or walked away, the track would have been presented as “challenging”, not “too fast” and “dangerous”.
In hockey lingo “finishing a check” refers to a player bodychecking an opponent off the puck. When Patrice Cormier of the Quebec Major Junior Hockey League’s Rouyn-Noranda Huskies “finished his check” on Quebec Remparts’ Michael Tam, Tam feel to the ice, started convulsing, and finally was wheeled off the ice on a stretcher. Cormier was suspended for the entire rest of the season. Cormier, his team, and agent called the suspension “excessive”.
Watching more Olympics yesterday, I caught the Slovakia V. Russia men’s hockey game. When Russian star Alexander Ovechkin who is known for his goal scoring prowess as well as his “physicality” (IE. He bodychecks other players real hard) checked a Slovakian opponent hard into the boards (a totally legal check by the way), the announcers referred to it as “burying him into the boards”. Not the best choice of words in these Olympics is it now.
Despite the check being legal (hockey is a contact sport after all), what if this player had been injured, would he have been “buried”? Or would we be hearing about Ovechkin exaggerating his physical play? The Slovakian player not “being ready to sustain the hit”? Or how the equipment or even the boards need changing to limit injuries?
Ironic that a Slovakian hockey player gets up from a bodycheck after being “buried” into the boards, but a Georgian luger literally gets buried and it’s the track’s fault.
Are we wanting to see athletes “push the envelope” yet unable to accept the consequences?
Why does (many) people watch car racing if not the crashes? And when a racer dies (Dale Earnhardt Sr., Ayrton Senna, Gilles Villeneuve...), was he “not up to the challenge” or is it the car / track / other drivers” fault?
I suggest Nodar Kumaritashvili’s death be a lesson. Not (only) a lesson in how to make luge a safer sport, but in how we collectively see and speak of athletes.