A recent cover of the New York Times sports section attracted my attention immediately. The page was almost completely blank, and there was a small photograph of a bloodied hockey player's face and with the title Derek Boogard: Blood on the Ice. The years of Boogard's birth and death (2011) were also given. The article that followed was the second in a three part feature by John Branch that told a sobering story about the lives of NHL enforcers using Derek "The Boogeyman" Boogard as a case study.
What made this article news? It wasn't the timeliness of it because Boogard passed away more than six months prior to the article's publication. It didn't appear relevant to most of the NYT's audience (will all the hockey fans in the room please stand up?) But I found the article fascinating; in fact, it made a strong impression on me. I felt like I saw for the first time the tumult that professional athletes can live in, especially in a sport as violent as hockey. Did you know that NHL teams keep an "enforcer" on their roster just to send onto the ice to fight the other team's enforcer to settle scores between teams and avenge cheap shots against star players? Neither did I. It sounded exciting. But then Branch describes Boogard's right hand, which was a mangled plump of flesh during his later years after years of getting it cut up and his knuckles broken and all out of place during fight after fight. Branch also describes the head trauma associated with such a lifestyle and that reminded me of Muhammed Ali's later years, when he had an ever-present tremor in him and could barely talk.
Why did the article mean so much to me? My guesses are that once Branch grabbed my attention he made good use of it. He helped me understand the very interesting life of Derek Boogard to the point that I felt compassion for him. Furthermore, the difficult demands on a hockey enforcer began to sound similar to demands that I feel in my own life or see in others (not exactly the same, of course.) What was the news in this piece of journalism? Maybe the humanity of professional hockey's most fearsome players. Maybe guilt, felt in our gut as we realize that our society (myself sometimes included) takes pleasure in watching others engage in extreme, often violent, behavior, leaving them to sort out the leftover wreckage in their life on their own. It was uncomfortable to understand, but I also feel like I'm better of for knowing; perhaps that's the niche and value of feature writing in journalism.
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