Book Feature A Hotly Contested Affair: Hockey in Canada (by Andrew C. Holman)

[Andrew Holman]

@Andrew Holman

Somewhat related: I've read that you have also written a contribution to a book about the 1972 Summit Series, your essay being titled: "Les Russes et Nous: The 1972 Summit Series and the Birth of Hockey Sovereignty in Quebec." I'm curious how the Summit Series ties into the issue of Quebec nationalism in hockey.

As in the Rest of Canada, the Summit Series was followed very closely in Quebec. Game 1 was held there, French Canadians were key players on the roster, and coverage of the games (and editorials connected to them) was full and excited. One one hand, francophone Quebecers had the same range of reactions as did fans in English Canada--disappointment at Team Canada's performance and attitude in the first four games and exhilaration at the outcome in Moscow, but also more searching thoughts about the legitimacy of hockey violence, the need to rethink a National Team approach, and the overconfidence of Canadians' in their own abilities. In addition to all that, some in Quebec saw in the national spirit that the Summit Series stirred up a sort of model to emulate. Could a Team Quebec do the same thing for the "nation" of Quebec? Some editorialists thought so; so too did Guy Bertrand, a former McGill varsity athlete and Quebec City lawyer who, in 1977, started a "Comite Equipe Quebec" (with Levesque's approval) and began to construct a movement for a national team. Years ago, I interviewed him and he recalled feeling that way about the Summit Series. But he wasn't alone. The Summit Series made lots of people think deeply about what hockey meant (and means) as a builder of national identity.

 

[Theokritos]

As in the Rest of Canada, the Summit Series was followed very closely in Quebec. Game 1 was held there, French Canadians were key players on the roster, and coverage of the games (and editorials connected to them) was full and excited. One one hand, francophone Quebecers had the same range of reactions as did fans in English Canada--disappointment at Team Canada's performance and attitude in the first four games and exhilaration at the outcome in Moscow, but also more searching thoughts about the legitimacy of hockey violence, the need to rethink a National Team approach, and the overconfidence of Canadians' in their own abilities.

In addition to all that, some in Quebec saw in the national spirit that the Summit Series stirred up a sort of model to emulate. Could a Team Quebec do the same thing for the "nation" of Quebec? Some editorialists thought so; so too did Guy Bertrand, a former McGill varsity athlete and Quebec City lawyer who, in 1977, started a "Comite Equipe Quebec" (with Levesque's approval) and began to construct a movement for a national team. Years ago, I interviewed him and he recalled feeling that way about the Summit Series. But he wasn't alone. The Summit Series made lots of people think deeply about what hockey meant (and means) as a builder of national identity.

Interesting, I was well aware that the Summit Series led to quite some soul searching on the Canadian side (not the least in coincidence with concerns about that Broad Street Bullies wave of violence), but not that it also incensed a movement of Quebec hockey nationalism.

 

[Lshap]

As in the Rest of Canada, the Summit Series was followed very closely in Quebec. Game 1 was held there, French Canadians were key players on the roster, and coverage of the games (and editorials connected to them) was full and excited. One one hand, francophone Quebecers had the same range of reactions as did fans in English Canada--disappointment at Team Canada's performance and attitude in the first four games and exhilaration at the outcome in Moscow, but also more searching thoughts about the legitimacy of hockey violence, the need to rethink a National Team approach, and the overconfidence of Canadians' in their own abilities. In addition to all that, some in Quebec saw in the national spirit that the Summit Series stirred up a sort of model to emulate. Could a Team Quebec do the same thing for the "nation" of Quebec? Some editorialists thought so; so too did Guy Bertrand, a former McGill varsity athlete and Quebec City lawyer who, in 1977, started a "Comite Equipe Quebec" (with Levesque's approval) and began to construct a movement for a national team. Years ago, I interviewed him and he recalled feeling that way about the Summit Series. But he wasn't alone. The Summit Series made lots of people think deeply about what hockey meant (and means) as a builder of national identity.

As a Montrealer, my ears were burning. Now I know why.

I was 9 or 10 years old during the Summit Series. What I remember as much as the games themselves was the strange aura of nationalism. Adults weren't just treating this as hockey; for four weeks hockey became front-page news across the country. It was a battle of hockey pride! Hockey systems! And of course, political ideology! The games grew large, like we were fighting a bad-guy even worse than the Leafs or Bruins. Strange detail: I still remember that Moscow's timezone is seven or eight hours ahead of Montreal. That factoid sticks with me because I associate the games played in Russia with early afternoons sitting in my grade school class. We weren't sneaking peeks at cellphones that wouldn't exist for another 35 years. We didn't have to. The teacher wheeled a television into the class so all of us -- kids and staff -- could watch. For three glorious afternoons when games overlapped class time, the Summit Series was added to official school curriculum.

The final half of the final period of Game 8 took place immediately after school ended, so everyone crammed into the school gymnasium, craning our necks to watch the action on an old-fashioned 20" black-and-white television set that had been mounted about a dozen feet above ground. That's where I was for "The Goal" -- jostling with much bigger grownups in a school gym, as we all strained to see indistinct grey blobs moving left and right on the faraway screen. I had no idea how much time was left when I saw a bunch of Canadian players circling around the Russian net and then... wait... hold on... did that just...? And then a massive eruption of yelling and cheering exploded around me and I knew. I can't truthfully say I saw the puck go in the net, but I was there. I was there.

And then about two/three years later in that very same gymnasium, I sat with my mom and listened to René Levesque explain to about 100 people the philosophy behind his brand new party. In retrospect, the future Québec icon was probably doing these small gatherings in the sincere belief that he could enlist us anglophones as partners in the upcoming national journey. Of course it was not to be. It was a casual and friendly evening, but amidst the civility and jokes I sensed the crowd looking at Levesque like a benign curiosity. I never knew why my mom took me to the event, but I'm forever grateful to have a firsthand memory of the tone, if not the details, of what René Levesque was all about. I didn't know what it all meant in the grand scheme of history, but, like the Summit Series, I was there.

I'm really enjoying your posts and the peek into your book. What a treat to be able to discuss this directly with the author! Thank you.

 

[Andrew Holman]

Interesting, I was well aware that the Summit Series led to quite some soul searching on the Canadian side (not the least in coincidence with concerns about that Broad Street Bullies wave of violence), but not that it also incensed a movement of Quebec hockey nationalism.

Thanks for moderating this discussion. I've really enjoyed your questions.

 

[Andrew Holman]

As a Montrealer, my ears were burning. Now I know why.

I was 9 or 10 years old during the Summit Series. What I remember as much as the games themselves was the strange aura of nationalism. Adults weren't just treating this as hockey; for four weeks hockey became front-page news across the country. It was a battle of hockey pride! Hockey systems! And of course, political ideology! The games grew large, like we were fighting a bad-guy even worse than the Leafs or Bruins. Strange detail: I still remember that Moscow's timezone is seven or eight hours ahead of Montreal. That factoid sticks with me because I associate the games played in Russia with early afternoons sitting in my grade school class. We weren't sneaking peeks at cellphones that wouldn't exist for another 35 years. We didn't have to. The teacher wheeled a television into the class so all of us -- kids and staff -- could watch. For three glorious afternoons when games overlapped class time, the Summit Series was added to official school curriculum.

The final half of the final period of Game 8 took place immediately after school ended, so everyone crammed into the school gymnasium, craning our necks to watch the action on an old-fashioned 20" black-and-white television set that had been mounted about a dozen feet above ground. That's where I was for "The Goal" -- jostling with much bigger grownups in a school gym, as we all strained to see indistinct grey blobs moving left and right on the faraway screen. I had no idea how much time was left when I saw a bunch of Canadian players circling around the Russian net and then... wait... hold on... did that just...? And then a massive eruption of yelling and cheering exploded around me and I knew. I can't truthfully say I saw the puck go in the net, but I was there. I was there.

And then about two/three years later in that very same gymnasium, I sat with my mom and listened to René Levesque explain to about 100 people the philosophy behind his brand new party. In retrospect, the future Québec icon was probably doing these small gatherings in the sincere belief that he could enlist us anglophones as partners in the upcoming national journey. Of course it was not to be. It was a casual and friendly evening, but amidst the civility and jokes I sensed the crowd looking at Levesque like a benign curiosity. I never knew why my mom took me to the event, but I'm forever grateful to have a firsthand memory of the tone, if not the details, of what René Levesque was all about. I didn't know what it all meant in the grand scheme of history, but, like the Summit Series, I was there.

I'm really enjoying your posts and the peek into your book. What a treat to be able to discuss this directly with the author! Thank you.

Those are super memories. Thanks for sharing them. If only those gymnasium walls could talk! I have very similar story about the Henderson goal. Over the years, the "where were you when Henderson scored" conversation is the gift that keeps giving, especially for expatriates like me when we bump into other Canadians "of a certain age" abroad. I envy you for having seen Levesque speak in those years. Love him or hate him (and there were very few people who didn't fall into one of those camps) he was charismatic and committed to his cause.

 

[goliver845]

In my latest SIHR hockey book column, which went live on Nov. 9, 2020, I talk with Andrew Holman about A Hotly Contested Affair: Hockey in Canada, which he was commissioned to write for the Champlain Society. It's a pretty intense dive into hockey history.

Holman's latest historical epic brings him into Society

 

[Theokritos]

 

[Theokritos]

Video presentation from the virtual SIHR Meeting last fall:

 

[seventieslord]

I finished reading this last week. It's as academic as books get. That's not to say it wasn't entertaining. It's like ten little books in one, each one being a sort of a Readers Digest distillation of significant viewpoints that existed throughout history regarding ten different hot button issues - some of which are still ongoing (violence in hockey), some of which are long-since settled (professionalism and commerce). In the Race and Social Order section, you can't help but laugh at the not-even-hidden racism in the depictions of the Black and Aboriginal teams as recently as the 30s. Holman has done a great job selecting some very well-expressed contemporary opinions that existed (both published and unpublished) by going through a treasure trove of documents from a wide variety of sources. None of this is material you'll find anywhere else, unless you habitually dig through the fonds of historical figures and read old newspapers and magazines at libraries. This is a good book to read for background knowledge, as it should give you better perspective on most other books you read in the future. I hadn't heard of the Champlain Society before, but after reading their mission statement:

It works to echo the voices of some of Canada’s most eloquent citizens. Since the early 1600s, explorers, merchants, public servants, scientists, ordinary people, and extraordinary men and women have left riveting accounts of their actions and thoughts. Through its books and Digital Collection, its blog and its podcasts, the Champlain Society makes the adventures, explorations, discoveries, and opinions that have shaped Canada available to all who have an interest in its past. The Champlain Society is accessible, but it is uncompromisingly scholarly: its works are the object of meticulous treatment by specialists whose role has been to highlight the significance of the eyewitness accounts and to inform readers of the context in which these documents were drafted.

...I can say that Andrew Holman met the core objective of the Champlain Society to a tee.