Are you willing to do whatever it takes?
I got punched 130 times in the face for a living.
Okay...
Probably a lot more than 130 times.
But I had roughly 130 professional hockey fights during my career.
And believe it or not, there was a time when fighting scared the hell out of me.
When I was coming up through the ranks, I was always a tough player.
I competed hard.
I finished my checks.
I played physical.
I got underneath people's skin.
And if things got nasty, I was never afraid to get involved. I dropped the gloves in Junior hockey a handful of times and always did well.
Then I went to UMass Lowell and played four years of Division I college hockey.
I played the same way there.
Hard.
Rugged.
In people's faces.
Finish the check.
Get into the scrum after the whistle.
Compete on every puck.
But there was one major difference:
Fighting wasn't really part of the equation.
Sure, fights occasionally happen in college hockey.
But I knew I wasn't going to do it.
The punishment wasn't worth it.
I wanted to be in the lineup.
So I could play as hard as I wanted without that thought constantly hanging over me.
Then I turned pro.
And everything changed.
The locker room felt different.
The ice felt different.
The atmosphere around the game felt different.
Because now fighting was real.
And you could almost feel that reality hanging in the air.
If you were flying around finishing every check, somebody might accuse you of “running around.”
Hit the wrong guy?
Someone challenged you.
Play a little too hard?
Someone challenged you.
And you can debate all day whether that was good for hockey or bad for hockey.
But I'll tell you something I learned firsthand:
It worked.
Because it changed the way I played.
And I'm ashamed to admit that.
When I first got into the American Hockey League, I wanted to fly around with reckless abandon.
Hit everything.
Compete.
Create chaos.
Play the game that had gotten me there.
But then these massive, legitimate professional tough guys started skating over and asking me to fight.
And I felt fear.
Real fear.
Little by little...
I let that fear change my game.
Maybe I didn't finish that check quite as hard.
Maybe I didn't get involved in that scrum.
Maybe I thought twice before stirring something up.
And when you start removing the things that make you valuable...
You start becoming just another player.
For the next few years I drifted.
East Coast Hockey League.
Europe.
Trying to find my way.
Until eventually I had enough.
I felt ashamed that fear had gotten the better of me.
And I knew that if I was ever going to accomplish my dream of playing in the NHL, I had to stop running from the part of professional hockey that scared me.
So I made a decision:
I was coming back to North America to fight for my dream.
Literally.
I decided I was going to play with reckless abandon again.
Finish every check.
Get involved.
Protect my teammates.
Play on the edge.
And if somebody challenged me because of it?
Fine.
I would answer the bell.
And answer it I did.
About 130 professional fights later...
I made my NHL debut with the Boston Bruins.
Now, PLEASE don't misunderstand the lesson here.
I'm not telling young hockey players:
“Go fight 30 times this year and you'll make the NHL.”
That path has largely disappeared from today's game.
The lesson is much bigger than fighting.
Because fighting was simply one form of something every successful hockey player still has to embrace:
THE DIRTY WORK.
The things most players don't really want to do.
Block the shot.
Finish the check.
Eat the hit to make the play.
Drive to the front of the net.
Stand in what one of my coaches called Broken Nose Alley and battle for rebounds.
Get into the corner first.
Win the battle on the wall.
Backcheck all the way to the post.
Take punishment to make the play.
That's the dirty work.
And there's one in particular that reminds me a lot of what fighting used to bring to a team:
Blocking shots.
Watch a bench when somebody drops to a knee and eats a slapshot.
Everybody reacts.
Everyone is banging their sticks.
They're yelling.
They're fired up.
Why?
Because everybody sitting on that bench knows exactly what just happened.
That player willingly sacrificed themself for the team.
There's something contagious about that kind of courage.
And as fighting continues to disappear from hockey, players who develop reputations for doing those uncomfortable things become incredibly valuable.
The player who blocks shots.
The player who wins battles.
The player who gets to the crease.
The player who takes the hit.
The player who doesn't disappear when the game gets ugly.
That player raises their stock.
So here we are at the midpoint of another week.
Some of you are in captain's practices.
Some are already practicing with your teams.
Some have training camps and tryouts right around the corner.
Set something in your mind right now:
I'm going to do the dirty work.
Yes, work on the dangles.
Make the beautiful pass.
Score the highlight-reel goal.
Develop your hands.
Develop your shot.
But when the game gets ugly...
Don't disappear.
Muck.
Grind.
Battle.
Compete.
Become the player who can do all of it.
Because there's always room on a hockey team for somebody willing to do the things other players won't.
Knuckles Up,
Bobby "do the dirty work" Robins, ex hockey pro, writer for Wraparound, inspiring hockey players to chase and accomplish their dreams
P.S. Part of doing the dirty work is doing the extra work too. When practice ends, you don't have to stop getting better. Grab the Puckaround + Wraparound combo, protect your stick blade, and get another hundred touches in the garage, driveway, basement, or outside the locker room. The Puckaround is built to give you the feel of a real puck off the ice while the Wraparound protects the blade you're training with. The extra reps don't look glamorous—but neither does most of the work that makes great hockey players great. Now get after it.>>>