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It’s been a bit of a weird week. I had an Instagram post go viral for the first time in a long time. The post was promoting my newsletter from last week in which I expressed cynicism regarding the NHL’s seeming embrace of Heated Rivalry and the new fans it may bring to the league. The comments on that post were a mix of three main sentiments: 1) agreement with me; 2) disparagement of me and/or gay people; and, the one that annoyed me the most, 3) lecturing me to watch the PWHL instead.
One of the things I am worst at is letting people be wrong about me and it took every ounce of my power not to reply to a hundred different people letting them know that a) I am a women’s sports journalist who has been going to pro women’s hockey games since the PWHL was still the NWHL, and b) the PWHL is not without its own problems and supporting the women’s game will not fix the homophobia in the men’s game.
You should all be so proud of me because I only replied to like three people! I ignored all the rest and practiced letting them be wrong! But then, almost as if the universe wanted to prove my own point to me, I had an infuriating experience at last night’s PWHL game between the Boston Fleet and the Seattle Torrent.
as if I don’t know ball (or, in this case, hockey)
The Fleet played one of this season’s three Agganis Arena games, which is in Boston proper (as opposed to their usual home 40 minutes north of the city at Tsongas Center in Lowell, MA). Thanks to playing in the city, the team had their first sellout of the season. I was at the game with my partner and my two kids, ages 9 and 11. Sitting behind us was a white man who was in his late 40s or early 50s. He was there with a woman who was about the same age as him. It was his first woman’s hockey game, he said. Then he proceeded to spend the next three periods loudly disparaging everything about the women’s game, the play on the ice, and the players themselves.
The thing to know about women’s pro sporting events is that the vibe is usually immaculate. Everyone is usually incredibly friendly and supportive, including of opposing players and fans. However, as the games grow and attendance increases by attracting more mainstream fans, the toxic elements of our dominant culture begin to infiltrate the spaces that had formerly felt like havens from those things. It’s something the WNBA has been grappling with over the last few seasons, as well.
It’s the double-edged sword of “growing the game,” and the reason that not all fans are good fans. “[Increased] revenue [is] driven by match attendance, viewership figures, fan engagement, investment activity and media coverage,” writes Evie Ashton at the It’s Just a Game newsletter. “When growth is the [overarching] goal, these metrics are prioritised. Justice, fairness, rights, well-being, and happiness (essential ingredients to thrive) are automatically placed secondary.”
I chose not to say anything to this man directly because I was with my kids and wanted to avoid an escalation. But those kids heard everything he said, and had to sit there while their heroes were disparaged simply for being women playing a sport. I tried to report him to guest services, as instructed by the usher I complained to, but it was already the third period and doing so would have meant missing the last 20 minutes of the hockey I’d paid money to watch. Maybe I should have done it anyway. Maybe I should have said something to him in real time. I keep going over it in my head, wondering if I made the right decision, if I taught my kids the wrong lesson, if I let that man get away with his misogynist behavior.
The fact that I’m sitting here blaming myself for the sexism of some stranger that I’ll likely never see again is what makes this all so insidious. His toxic views are not my fault, nor are they my responsibility to fix. I chose not to report him because I didn’t want to let his bigotry ruin my experience of the game itself—which was fabulous and exciting and all of the things pro women’s hockey games always are. My kids had a great time, I saw so many friends in the crowd, and several of you all—subscribers to this newsletter—came up and said hi to me, which was so nice. Thank you for taking the time to introduce yourselves, my kids now think I’m famous (in the nichest way possible lolol).
But perhaps the part that made it the most tolerable was the OOYL Discord server. At least five of our members were scattered around the arena last night, with many more watching the game on TV. At least two different OOYL community members offered to come throw hands at this man, which is truly the level of support and solidarity we should all strive for.
If you’d like to join us in the OOYL Discord and have a group of strangers ready to fight for you at sporting events, make sure you’ve upgraded to the All-Access VIP or Biggest Fan subscription tiers, which you can do here:
Let’s keep looking out for each other, friends. We’re all we’ve got.