The High Cost Of Becoming A Hockey "Insider"

Being a hockey insider is coveted, but it comes at a cost, and keeps hockey's 'culture of silence' alive and well. Sports journalism needs outsiders, not insiders.

Being an insider. It’s a designation many in the hockey media world covet. You can see it in self proclaimed social media bios, you hear it on broadcasts, and there’s a sense of pride that comes with getting information first. After all, in media, being the first to a story is important. Not as important as getting the story right, and telling the facts, but breaking news is a hunt that publications and journalists are always on.

In hockey however, becoming an “insider” often comes with a cost. To become an insider, in my experience, means trading something. You have to give something to get something. Specifically, the requirement to become a hockey insider is often that you will not be critical, you will not tell stories that harm the image of an organization, team or league (no matter how egregious the misconduct may be) and that you will focus on the game, not the people or practices behind it.

By definition, an insider is “a person recognized or accepted as a member of a group, category, or organization.”

If you are reporting from inside a league or team as a member of that group or organization however, that’s called public relations. It makes an individual part of a communications department, not an independent journalist. As the Society of Professional Journalists state in their Code of Ethics, journalists need to “Refuse…favors…and special treatment,” “Be wary of sources offering information for favors…” and “Deny favored treatment to advertisers, donors or any other special interests, and resist internal and external pressure to influence coverage.”

How can a writer remain unbiased if you are self admittedly, on the inside?

As Ohio State journalism professor Nicole Kraft writes, sports media ethics are about more than not cheering for a team while in the press box. I’ve certainly seen that done time and again as writers vocally root for players or celebrate goals. As Kraft writes, there is “the great responsibility to check fandom at the stadium door.” And it’s not simply about not asking players for autographs or selfies, it’s also about seeking truth, and reporting on coaches, athletes, owners, and organizations without favor. At times, this includes shining light on issues, wrongdoing, or unethical behavior on and off the ice.

The problem is, journalists who do this, will often face retribution from sports organizations, teams, or leagues. It comes, as I’ve experienced, with the loss of access. Interviews get denied by teams. Credentials get pulled. Sometimes a cease and desist letter arrives.

In my first weeks covering the PWHL, after reporting on their intitial collective bargaining agreement, a member of the league’s board reached out and told me they could be my best source, or they could make my life extremely difficult in covering the league. But to avoid the roadblocks, I needed to play nice.

It’s easy to get caught up in it all. Being an insider is alluring. It certainly is a fun thought, to get to break a trade, to know about a hiring first, to learn about expansion or a team name ahead of others. But it loses its fun if you have to trade your voice for that information.

In many industries, being an insider is not only frowned upon, but illegal. There’s a reason it’s called insider trading.

The insider culture in sport not only often comes with a cost to the ethics of the writer, it also comes with a cost to participants. The harder reporting, stories that come with exposing misconduct or other wrongdoing, actually make sport safer and better for fans and participants. It holds organizations and individuals responsible for their actions through transparency. If the cost of becoming an insider is looking the other way, or having a favor cashed in, it’s a cost no journalist should be asked to pay.

Sometimes however, truth begets truth. When a reporter goes against the insider culture and exposes power imbalances, misconduct, or crimes, it opens the door for more people to tell their stories. It removes the layers of protection that abusers, fraudsters, and bigots hide behind. A good example of this is looking at the critical sports journalism of Rick Westhead. Westhead certainly did not make friends with the teams, leagues, and governing bodies as he reported on abuse and misconduct within Canadian sports organizations including Hockey Canada. That was made clear when former Edmonton Oilers general manager and president of hockey operations Kevin Lowe came after Westhead online. Like many who jump in to attack jounalists for factual and important reporting, Lowe jumped to making fun of Westhead claiming he must not have been a good enough player, and that Westhead was only searching for clicks. I’ve heard it many times before.

Westhead, however, also opened the door for others to begin telling their stories. Due to his reporting, more people stepped forward, more sources shared their experiences, and more issues came to light. And as a result, organizations had to change. They had to face their issues head on, and act. That, is a legacy that far outweighs breaking trades or signings, not for the clicks and readership, but for the impact it had on societal change, and on serving the athletes, the people, involved in sport; not in serving billion dollar corporations by promoting their product and protecting their image.

But the culture of silence Westhead, and others like Katie Strang, have smashed through, persists. Teams and leagues hire public relations and communications staff paid to give vague responses that protect only the money behind organizations, not the people within them. And if you are a sports journalist who questions, critiques, and shares uncomfortable truth, it’s their job to push you farther from those truths.

Earlier this year, a team communicated to me they were unable to arrange interviews between myself and their players. I was looking to do preseason coverage of the team to tell stories about their top incoming prospects, and to highlight their key contributors who were returning. The issue? I’d reported on a controversy within the organization. The team said players were “reluctant” to speak to me. The interesting part was, I’d already heard all of this…from players on the team, and their agents. Not that they were actually reluctant, but that they were being told not to speak to me, yet there we were having that conversation.

In sport, players are also trained not to speak to the outside about the inside. It’s the “culture of silence” that’s been discussed at length in recent years allowing abuse and misconduct to continue for generations.

The thing is, as much as teams, leagues, and federations try to protect their bottom line, the players and staff who are the heart of those organizations know what’s right, and what’s wrong. I’m sure many parents have told their children that if someone tells them not to talk about an incident, or if someone says something like, “it’s our little secret,” it’s a red flag, and a sign you need to speak up. The problem in sport is, it has been proven time and again that players and staff who speak are ostracized, or blackballed. Speaking publicly often comes with immense risk and impact to their careers and families as organizations gaslight and deny their experience. They move from insiders, to outsiders.

It’s why sports writers, sport journalists, need to use their position to speak, and tell those stories, even if it means telling it anonymously to protect those players and staff. In sport, while being an insider is coveted, perhaps there’s no more respected position than that of an objective outsider, even if it came from being blacklisted by an individual, a team, league, or federation.

If hockey had more outsiders instead of insiders reporting on the sport, the game would be safer, more enjoyable, and inclusive. Hockey would grow and thrive. People would still get their stories about trades and signings, but those stories wouldn’t come at the cost of keeping others hidden. It would be a division of labour keeping the public relations inside, and journalism outside, as it’s intended to be.

For more writing by Ian Kennedy, check out his new book, Ice In Their Veins: Women’s Relentless Pursuit of the Puck.