horns.â
McSorley quickly apologized and said he hadnât meant to hit Brashear in the head. âI embarrassed my hockey team,â he said. âI got way too carried away. It was a real dumb play.â
But the devastating video had been seen by millions, and the league suspended McSorley for a year, the longest suspension in its history.
Police and British Columbia Crown prosecutors didnât back off. And on September 26, McSorley walked into a Vancouver provincial court with his two lawyers to face a charge of assault with a weapon.
Both McSorley and the NHL â S culture of violence were on trial.
Especially the unwritten code that, despite the official rules, sanctioned slashing and fighting and brawls in some circumstances.
McSorleyâs defence team advanced two arguments.
First, that slashing is accepted, under the unwritten code of conduct, as a way to start a fight. Brashear knew that, and thus implicitly consented to being hit with a hockey stick, even with a blow aimed inches from his head.
Second, that McSorley had swung his stick at Brashearâs shoulder, not his head. His only offence was inaccuracy.
A parade of hockey celebrities testified. The referee, Brad Watson, and linesman Michael Cvik described their practice in enforcing both the rules and hockeyâs unwritten code.
Brashear was a sullen, monosyllabic witness. He acknowledged he did not consent to be hit in the head, but made it clear he didnât want to be in court and didnât think McSorley should be either.
And McSorley, with his friend Gretzky there to provide support, said he was sorry, but insisted he hadnât been angry and hadnât meant to hit âDonaldâ in the head. He was sent out to fight, Brashear was reluctant, and a two-handed slash to the shoulder was an accepted way to force the issue.
Judge Bill Kitchen called McSorley âbright and articulateâ and âa likeable personality.â
But he wasnât convinced McSorley had missed his target.
âHe slashed for the head. A child, swinging as at a Tee ball, would not miss. A housekeeper swinging a carpet beater would not miss. An NHL player would never, ever miss. Brashear wasstruck as intended,â Kitchen said. âMr. McSorley, I must find you guilty as charged.â
âEveryone must understand that this type of violence wonât be tolerated, either on a street or in a hockey arena.â
Hockey wasnât on trial, said Kitchen, a fan. But McSorleyâs slash to the head should prompt fans and players to consider the role of violence in the game.
âThere is work to be done,â he suggested. âThe game deserves it.â
McSorley never played in the NHL again, but worked as a minor-league coach, TV commentator, and sometimes actor, including a role on CSI: Miami .
Brashear played another nine seasons, fought 160 more times, and was paid another $12.8 million before his NHL career as an enforcer came to an end.
SEX ON-CAMERA
P oor Bob McLelland. The popular provincial cabinet minister was a little drunk when he picked up the phone in his Chateau Victoria hotel room and called Top Hat Productions.
The name suggested a film company. But Top Hat offered different, more specialized, entertainment.
McLelland asked if a âgirlâ could be sent to his room, how much it would cost, andâunfortunatelyâif he could pay with his Visa card.
Arlie Blakely, the forty-two-year-old mom who ran Top Hat, happily obliged.
Neither of them knew, on that February night in 1985, that Victoria police, RCMP , and prosecutors had launched an extraordinary effort to bust Blakely, with wiretaps, surveillance, and spy cameras pushing the boundaries of privacy laws.
McLellandâs $130 tryst landed him in the middle of the mess. Even though he had broken no law, since paying for sex was, and is, legal in Canada.
McLelland was a terrifically popular Social Credit MLA from Langley. He had
McSorley quickly apologized and said he hadnât meant to hit Brashear in the head. âI embarrassed my hockey team,â he said. âI got way too carried away. It was a real dumb play.â
But the devastating video had been seen by millions, and the league suspended McSorley for a year, the longest suspension in its history.
Police and British Columbia Crown prosecutors didnât back off. And on September 26, McSorley walked into a Vancouver provincial court with his two lawyers to face a charge of assault with a weapon.
Both McSorley and the NHL â S culture of violence were on trial.
Especially the unwritten code that, despite the official rules, sanctioned slashing and fighting and brawls in some circumstances.
McSorleyâs defence team advanced two arguments.
First, that slashing is accepted, under the unwritten code of conduct, as a way to start a fight. Brashear knew that, and thus implicitly consented to being hit with a hockey stick, even with a blow aimed inches from his head.
Second, that McSorley had swung his stick at Brashearâs shoulder, not his head. His only offence was inaccuracy.
A parade of hockey celebrities testified. The referee, Brad Watson, and linesman Michael Cvik described their practice in enforcing both the rules and hockeyâs unwritten code.
Brashear was a sullen, monosyllabic witness. He acknowledged he did not consent to be hit in the head, but made it clear he didnât want to be in court and didnât think McSorley should be either.
And McSorley, with his friend Gretzky there to provide support, said he was sorry, but insisted he hadnât been angry and hadnât meant to hit âDonaldâ in the head. He was sent out to fight, Brashear was reluctant, and a two-handed slash to the shoulder was an accepted way to force the issue.
Judge Bill Kitchen called McSorley âbright and articulateâ and âa likeable personality.â
But he wasnât convinced McSorley had missed his target.
âHe slashed for the head. A child, swinging as at a Tee ball, would not miss. A housekeeper swinging a carpet beater would not miss. An NHL player would never, ever miss. Brashear wasstruck as intended,â Kitchen said. âMr. McSorley, I must find you guilty as charged.â
âEveryone must understand that this type of violence wonât be tolerated, either on a street or in a hockey arena.â
Hockey wasnât on trial, said Kitchen, a fan. But McSorleyâs slash to the head should prompt fans and players to consider the role of violence in the game.
âThere is work to be done,â he suggested. âThe game deserves it.â
McSorley never played in the NHL again, but worked as a minor-league coach, TV commentator, and sometimes actor, including a role on CSI: Miami .
Brashear played another nine seasons, fought 160 more times, and was paid another $12.8 million before his NHL career as an enforcer came to an end.
SEX ON-CAMERA
P oor Bob McLelland. The popular provincial cabinet minister was a little drunk when he picked up the phone in his Chateau Victoria hotel room and called Top Hat Productions.
The name suggested a film company. But Top Hat offered different, more specialized, entertainment.
McLelland asked if a âgirlâ could be sent to his room, how much it would cost, andâunfortunatelyâif he could pay with his Visa card.
Arlie Blakely, the forty-two-year-old mom who ran Top Hat, happily obliged.
Neither of them knew, on that February night in 1985, that Victoria police, RCMP , and prosecutors had launched an extraordinary effort to bust Blakely, with wiretaps, surveillance, and spy cameras pushing the boundaries of privacy laws.
McLellandâs $130 tryst landed him in the middle of the mess. Even though he had broken no law, since paying for sex was, and is, legal in Canada.
McLelland was a terrifically popular Social Credit MLA from Langley. He had
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