Hey, women who are unfamiliar with hockey! Intrigued by the game and want to check it out but don't know where to start? As a woman who used to be unfamiliar with hockey myself, I'm here to help! Just follow these simple guidelines:
1. Develop an interest in hockey, despite the myriad assurances flying at you from all directions that it's too violent, too complicated, and not meant for you.
2. Find someone who knows hockey to watch some games with you and help you learn the basic rules. Based on my personal experiences with hockey fans outside the internet, there's about a 40% chance that this person will be female.
3. Tell your friends who are into hockey that you're getting into it too. Try to gracefully handle the men who joke about your desire to "get into" whatever player you name as your favorite. (Or handle them ungracefully. Depends how much you value the relationship. You're probably used to making that kind of call in your everyday life.)
4. Find some good hockey writers to follow. These will be more like 15-20% female. (Katie Baker is completely fabulous and should definitely be on your list. And even though she knows her shit cold, she gets the same crap you'll get.)
5. Watch a whole shitload of games. Google terms as you come across them. Pay attention to where the players are on the ice in relation to the puck. Learn the names of the best players, the GMs and coaches, and the different announcers. (None of these people will be female. None. 0%.)
6. Never, ever, ever click on anything from hockey PR or mainstream media that says it's written for women.
Friday, January 25, 2013
Friday, January 18, 2013
How the NHL is like the word "fuck"
There's something special about "fuck." It draws four-figure fines if you say it in the wrong place; it increases pain tolerance; it can even provoke human reaction from a crowd dead-eyed and paralyzed by Nickelback. (I will never get tired of that clip.) It's nothing inherent in the noise itself, of course. "Fuck" has power because we give it power. English-speaking society has agreed that this word means something important, and that's the only reason it does.
The particular group of 30 independently-owned teams that currently comprises the NHL doesn't make the league special any more than the particular group of phonemes that comprises the word "fuck" makes it special. Talent is part of it, but that isn't the cause of the NHL's appeal; it's an effect, as the league's reputation draws the best players. The actual root of the appeal is in the shared experience of the people who have agreed, as a society, that the NHL is the pro hockey organization that matters. Team allegiances shift, individual players come and go, but we stick with the league as a whole--through thick, thin, and lockouts aplenty--because it's the one we all know. Being a sports fan is a very social activity; we need that shared experience.
I was going to watch some KHL games during the lockout. I looked up the schedules for the days when Dynamo Moscow went up against Metallurg Magnitogorsk, so I could see Malkin face off against Ovi. I never got around to it. I did attend a WHL game with some friends--and we spent it talking about Shea Theodore's future and explaining the NHL draft to the hockey-oblivious British friend I dragged along. We have plans to go to another WHL game soon, to see Seth Jones play; I'll probably spend a good amount of that evening checking score updates on my phone for the Canucks/Blackhawks game I'll be missing. I watched World Juniors religiously, and I like to think I would have done so for the quality hockey even if the players weren't NHL-bound, but I can't honestly be sure.
It's not that non-NHL hockey can't be perfectly worthwhile. It's not as good in technical terms, usually, but that's not the reason we stick with the NHL. It's that this league--its teams, its players, its narratives--is the one we all know. I love the game of hockey, and I will happily watch it for its own sake, but sitting curled up on my couch at six in the morning watching a KHL game by myself isn't nearly as satisfying as sitting curled up on my couch at six in the morning watching World Juniors and using the commercial breaks to chat on IM and Twitter with friends watching the same game. And no KHL game, no matter how beautiful the plays, can beat out the experience of watching NHL games with people who know and care about the teams involved, who trade commiserating glares at the mention of Bettman's name and grins at the mention of Luongo's.
In the attention economy of a social hobby like sports fandom, the league that people pay attention to is the best one by dint of attention paid. No one cares about non-NHL leagues because no one else does. It's a frustrating catch-22 for some, perhaps, but on a large scale it makes sense.
The particular group of 30 independently-owned teams that currently comprises the NHL doesn't make the league special any more than the particular group of phonemes that comprises the word "fuck" makes it special. Talent is part of it, but that isn't the cause of the NHL's appeal; it's an effect, as the league's reputation draws the best players. The actual root of the appeal is in the shared experience of the people who have agreed, as a society, that the NHL is the pro hockey organization that matters. Team allegiances shift, individual players come and go, but we stick with the league as a whole--through thick, thin, and lockouts aplenty--because it's the one we all know. Being a sports fan is a very social activity; we need that shared experience.
I was going to watch some KHL games during the lockout. I looked up the schedules for the days when Dynamo Moscow went up against Metallurg Magnitogorsk, so I could see Malkin face off against Ovi. I never got around to it. I did attend a WHL game with some friends--and we spent it talking about Shea Theodore's future and explaining the NHL draft to the hockey-oblivious British friend I dragged along. We have plans to go to another WHL game soon, to see Seth Jones play; I'll probably spend a good amount of that evening checking score updates on my phone for the Canucks/Blackhawks game I'll be missing. I watched World Juniors religiously, and I like to think I would have done so for the quality hockey even if the players weren't NHL-bound, but I can't honestly be sure.
It's not that non-NHL hockey can't be perfectly worthwhile. It's not as good in technical terms, usually, but that's not the reason we stick with the NHL. It's that this league--its teams, its players, its narratives--is the one we all know. I love the game of hockey, and I will happily watch it for its own sake, but sitting curled up on my couch at six in the morning watching a KHL game by myself isn't nearly as satisfying as sitting curled up on my couch at six in the morning watching World Juniors and using the commercial breaks to chat on IM and Twitter with friends watching the same game. And no KHL game, no matter how beautiful the plays, can beat out the experience of watching NHL games with people who know and care about the teams involved, who trade commiserating glares at the mention of Bettman's name and grins at the mention of Luongo's.
In the attention economy of a social hobby like sports fandom, the league that people pay attention to is the best one by dint of attention paid. No one cares about non-NHL leagues because no one else does. It's a frustrating catch-22 for some, perhaps, but on a large scale it makes sense.
Friday, January 4, 2013
You Can Play (to your audience)
Patrick Burke recently published a piece on Deadspin called "What Would Jesus Do About A Gay Teammate? A Christian Response To Torii Hunter’s Comments". It addresses the question of how Christian athletes should treat gay teammates based on biblical doctrine, given the premise that gay people are in fact sinners.
I was iffy on this when I first read it. I don't like the premise that gay people are sinners, and I don't like people who accept it. I don't like arguing with those people on their terms, or giving them the impression that I find their views regarding the hellfiery fates of sodomites legitimate enough to use as a platform for debate, even as a thought experiment.
But here's the thing: I'm not supposed to like it. I'm nothing vaguely resembling the target audience of this article. I spent hours grinning the day I found out that You Can Play even existed; they do not need to waste their energy on material designed to make people like me happy. It would be pretty damn tough for them to knock me off board with the project. The people they need to reach are the ones who don't already agree with them, and with that taken into account, this Burke piece is really smart.
I wrote a post on my personal blog a while back about how to change minds. I did my undergrad thesis on dual-process decision-making, and picked up a few things about the psychology of persuasion along the way. That post was an attempt to organize my knowledge and integrate my academic understanding of the topic into my own habits. Here are the guidelines I came up with:
Patrick Burke is mostly running YCP like he's read this list. (Aside from the occasional lost temper with trolls on Twitter. But that's understandable, given the shit people throw at him, and hopefully time and experience will help him learn when to disengage.) I'm not Christian or homophobic, so I can't say for sure that the Deadspin piece is effective, but with all this in mind, it looks solid to me. Burke establishes common ground and presents himself as a peer to his audience by outlining his history with religion and addressing the LGBT community in an aside, thereby characterizing them as other (though I'm not sure that was intentional). Then he reaches out emotionally, using the kind of language his audience associates with church and morality, and scatters some specific references to scripture to engage the reader's rational desire for evidence and back up their instinct to agree.
After a lot of thought, I've decided that I like it. But my opinion is, of course, completely irrelevant. That's the point.
I was iffy on this when I first read it. I don't like the premise that gay people are sinners, and I don't like people who accept it. I don't like arguing with those people on their terms, or giving them the impression that I find their views regarding the hellfiery fates of sodomites legitimate enough to use as a platform for debate, even as a thought experiment.
But here's the thing: I'm not supposed to like it. I'm nothing vaguely resembling the target audience of this article. I spent hours grinning the day I found out that You Can Play even existed; they do not need to waste their energy on material designed to make people like me happy. It would be pretty damn tough for them to knock me off board with the project. The people they need to reach are the ones who don't already agree with them, and with that taken into account, this Burke piece is really smart.
I wrote a post on my personal blog a while back about how to change minds. I did my undergrad thesis on dual-process decision-making, and picked up a few things about the psychology of persuasion along the way. That post was an attempt to organize my knowledge and integrate my academic understanding of the topic into my own habits. Here are the guidelines I came up with:
- Don't focus on getting your audience to agree with you right now. If they end up expressing agreement during just one conversation, either they were already on the fence or they're saying it to shut you up. Think of your goal as getting them to continue considering the topic on their own time.
- Start by getting them to want to agree with you. Think of ways things would be better for them if they were on your side.
- Present your facts in I-statements--this is why I believe this, it's my understanding that, etc. Don't make it about them. If you used to agree with them, tell them that, and try to establish commonalities. The more they can see you as a peer and not an obstacle, the more likely you are to get through to them.
- Don't shove evidence in their face and demand a response. When you ask people to consider facts that counter their beliefs, their beliefs actually grow stronger. This probably has something to do with defensiveness. So try to avoid getting confrontational. Give them things to think about, not things to react to.
- Wait. This can be hard, but really, these things need time to percolate.
Patrick Burke is mostly running YCP like he's read this list. (Aside from the occasional lost temper with trolls on Twitter. But that's understandable, given the shit people throw at him, and hopefully time and experience will help him learn when to disengage.) I'm not Christian or homophobic, so I can't say for sure that the Deadspin piece is effective, but with all this in mind, it looks solid to me. Burke establishes common ground and presents himself as a peer to his audience by outlining his history with religion and addressing the LGBT community in an aside, thereby characterizing them as other (though I'm not sure that was intentional). Then he reaches out emotionally, using the kind of language his audience associates with church and morality, and scatters some specific references to scripture to engage the reader's rational desire for evidence and back up their instinct to agree.
After a lot of thought, I've decided that I like it. But my opinion is, of course, completely irrelevant. That's the point.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)