Sometimes I sit and think about what the idea really was. What was the plan when a Canuck, sometime around the turn of the century, suggested that two teams should strap a pair of knives to their shoes to take to the ice with stick and puck?
Was all he wanted to create a sport where spex was chased away with pitchforks? Everything to maintain hockey’s dignity and seriousness.
I don’t think so.
Entertainment is in hockey’s DNA. The first organized games were not, according to the Society for International Hockey Research, at any outdoor rink on the Canadian prairie. They were played in front of 1,500 people at the Victoria Skating Rink in Montreal.
Hockey is and always will be entertainment
It was a show and something fun. It must have been quite a festive event, a huge fight broke out between the teams and the crowd fled in panic.
Hockey has and always will be entertainment, but the last word has been lost somewhere. Not least in Sweden, where for a long time we have been starving for someone or something that breaks the pattern.
There are a few who dare to be themselves and offer something other than just the old usual.
Roger Rönnberg is one of them and he is now facing criticism from the right and the left. The Frölunda coach jokes in almost every TV4 interview he does with the profile Patrik Westberg.
The working height, it’s not really there
Sometimes he pretends to talk on the phone, sometimes he stands too close to the camera or fusses and complains about a bottle cap that is in the way. Last Tuesday, he appeared with a piece of tape over his mouth and said he is not allowed to talk about the judges. Absolutely incredibly festive.
The working height, it’s not really there. It’s quantity, not quality, and quite honestly, it’s pretty dumb.
The legendary Håkan Loob, who is still the only Swede to score 50 goals in an NHL season, is now an expert in SVT. Image: CARL SANDIN
Hockey Sweden has reacted accordingly. Former Frölunda player Robin Figren called it Bolibompa level and said his former coach can do better – because he’s actually funny. I sign that, the level is low and after countless meetings with Rönnberg, I know that he can joke without props.
Last Thursday, Håkan Loob completely saw Rönnberg in SVT’s “Hockey evening. He said that “It’s getting a little too much clowning” and called for more seriousness.
When I hear the Färjestad icon’s criticism, I am filled with an unpleasant feeling. Do we really need to be more serious? Also, are we starting to chase away one of the few who actually dares to stand out from the crowd and make round 15 something more than a completely ordinary series where “you have to skate more”?
They are very necessary
I don’t think Roger Rönnberg’s spex are funny, but they are very necessary. He can’t stop. As sick as it sounds, it is of the utmost importance that he continues to appear with tape over his mouth and crazy headgear.
This man has become some kind of humorous pioneer in the sport on some damn left. A coach, who is usually seen as a grave and harsh Norrbotten, shows that it doesn’t matter much if you joke.
He walks, so others can run. The first ever airplane was not so successful either. It lacked a steering device and cost the inventor his life – but it turned out pretty well in the end.
Hopefully other players and managers see what Roger is up to and think they can relax a bit more, ditch the clichés and be themselves. It doesn’t have to be a joke, the only thing I wish is that more people dare to break the hockey template.
So for all the peace don’t force him to stop, no matter how many shaming pillows it may take.
Somewhere up in hockey heaven, I’m sure there’s a very old Canuck who agrees.
READ MORE:Håkan Loob’s criticism of Roger Rönnberg: “It’s clownery”
READ MORE:Robin Figren sees Frölunda’s coach Roger Rönnberg joking with TV4’s Patrik Westberg
READ MORE:Frölunda’s Filip Cederqvist on the odd goal gesture against Timrå
READ MORE:Carl Klingberg about the petting in Frölunda
Ah, hockey! That delightful sport where men skate around like a bunch of deranged penguins armed with sticks, knives on their feet, and a penchant for chaos. It’s the one place where it’s perfectly acceptable to throw a punch or two—as long as you’re careful not to knock out your own teammate in the process. So, let’s take a moment to consider the genius—or madness—behind a Canadian who thought to introduce bladed footwear to the icy arena. I mean, was this some brilliant marketing strategy or just a wild night out fueled by a few too many pints of ‘liquid encouragement’?
From the Ice Rinks of Chaos to a Comedy Stage
The article emphatically states that hockey is entertainment, which, if you’ve ever witnessed a game live, you will know is absolutely true. Imagine a raucous crowd, a fight breaking out, and spectators scattering like startled rodents—it’s essentially a scripted drama with the slight chance of a dental emergency. Oh, the joys of early organized games in front of 1,500 people! It wasn’t just about the sport, it was about the spectacle!
Now, moving on to our friend Roger Rönnberg, who has taken all this sense of fun and decided to inject it into his coaching style. He’s the knight in shining armor riding into the dull land of serious hockey—with a piece of tape over his mouth! Beautiful! It’s comedy gold wrapped in a NHL-sized bow! But alas, it seems that some folks, particularly Håkan Loob and Robin Figren, are clutching their pearls and gasping in horror at this spectacle. “Too much clowning,” they cry, as if laughter were akin to a penalty for high-sticking!
The Great Debate: Clownery or Culture?
Should we really be more serious? Really? (I’m looking at you, Håkan!). Sure, some of Rönnberg’s antics might resemble a bit of Bolibompa-level performance art (for our non-Swedish readers, that’s a children’s TV show). But let’s be real here! It’s a refreshing break from the monotony. As the saying goes, “laughter is the best medicine” (unless you’re flailing about on ice skates, in which case it might just lead to a nasty fall). It’s crucial that we cultivate a space where people can dare to be different in a sport that sometimes takes itself far too seriously.
Consequently, I’m not saying we should turn the ice into a circus—unless that’s the next revenue-generating strategy, in which case—where do we sign up?—but we do need the jokers in the deck. They keep us entertained, remind us of the fun involved. A piece of tape here, a funny hat there—what’s the harm? Besides, I’d much prefer a coach daring to be a goofball than one cursing under their breath while contemplating a mysterious move right out of a catalogue of “how to suck the life out of a game.”
Let’s Not Slim Down the Humor
So let’s give a round of applause to Rönnberg and his spark of madness. Embrace the humor, encourage the shenanigans, and for Pete’s sake, don’t clip his wings just because it makes the old guard squirm in their seats! If a piece of tape is what it takes to make hockey a bit more exciting, then tape it up! We could all use a little more laughter—especially when things go south faster than a Zamboni on a summer day.
In conclusion, folks, remember what our Canadian friend had in mind: this game was originally designed for entertainment. If too much clowning is the price we pay for keeping that spirit alive, then let’s all strap on our knives—uh, I mean skates—and join the party because, in the end, who doesn’t want to see a bit of silliness amid the brutality of a hockey game? Somewhere high above, an ancient Canuck is definitely nodding in approval!
As I take a moment to reflect, I often find myself pondering the original vision behind a particular moment in sports history. What kind of imaginative scheme did a Canadian dream up at the dawn of the 20th century when he proposed that two teams should don blades affixed to their skates, armed with sticks and a puck, to engage in icy competition?
Was his ultimate goal merely to birth a chaotic sport where ridiculous displays were expelled as if by pitchforks, all in an effort to uphold the sanctity and gravitas of hockey?
I’m not convinced that was the case.
At its core, the essence of entertainment pulses through every vein of hockey. The Society for International Hockey Research reveals that the inaugural organized games weren’t staged in the serene ambiance of an outdoor rink on the expansive Canadian prairies. Instead, they unfolded within the vibrant confines of the Victoria Skating Rink in Montreal, captivating an audience of around 1,500 spectators.
Hockey is and always will be entertainment
These events were not merely matches; they were spectacles infused with joy and excitement. Imagine the scene—a significant brawl erupting between players, sending the audience into a frenzy of panic, underscoring the sheer unpredictability of the game.
Hockey’s identity has always been intertwined with entertainment, yet somewhere along the way, that crucial aspect seems to have gotten lost. This disconnect has been particularly palpable in Sweden, where there has been a fervent longing for a catalyst capable of shaking things up and disrupting the monotony.
A select few have bravely chosen to express their uniqueness, offering a refreshing alternative to the same old routine.
Roger Rönnberg stands out among these brave souls, currently facing scrutiny from all sides. This coach of Frölunda injects humor into almost every interview he gives, particularly during his appearances on TV4 with personality Patrik Westberg.
The working height, it’s not really there
In one of these entertaining segments, he oftentimes feigns a phone call, inches too close to the camera, or whimsically fusses over a mundane object like a bottle cap obstructing his view. Just last week, he astonished viewers by putting a piece of tape over his mouth, declaring his inability to comment on officiating decisions. It’s an undeniably entertaining spectacle.
However, some argue that the overall standard of engagement feels rather lacking. It’s reminiscent of a focus on quantity over quality, leading to a perception of rather silly antics.
The legendary Håkan Loob, who made history as the only Swede to score 50 goals in a single NHL season, now shares his insights as an expert commentator on SVT. Following last week’s antics, he openly criticized Rönnberg during SVT’s “Hockey Evening,” claiming, “It’s getting a little too much clowning,” and emphasized the need for greater seriousness in the sport.
Hearing Loob’s remarks leaves me with an unsettling sense. Is there really a pressing need for more gravity in our beloved sport? Moreover, are we in danger of discouraging one of the few bold figures willing to diverge from the norm, transforming the latter rounds into something extraordinarily engaging rather than just an ordinary season rife with clichés?
They are very necessary
While I may not personally find Roger Rönnberg’s antics particularly hilarious, I view them as absolutely essential. It’s crucial he continues to engage in his humorous escapades, however outrageous they may seem.
In a realm where humor has been typically absent, he has emerged as a pioneering figure, demonstrating that even someone with a typically serious demeanor can embrace laughter.
He paves the way for others to follow suit. Historical innovations, like the first airplane, often met with failure at first—lacking essential controls and costing the inventor dearly—but ultimately led to significant advancements.
It is my hope that other players and coaches observe the path Roger is carving and feel encouraged to shed outdated norms in favor of authenticity. It doesn’t necessarily have to be comedic; I long for more individuals to embrace their true selves and disrupt the traditional hockey mold.
For the love of the sport, let’s not pressure him to conform, no matter how many naysayers may surface.
High above in hockey heaven, I have no doubt there rests an ancient Canuck who would wholeheartedly agree with this sentiment.
READ MORE:Håkan Loob’s criticism of Roger Rönnberg: “It’s clownery”
READ MORE:Robin Figren sees Frölunda’s coach Roger Rönnberg joking with TV4’s Patrik Westberg
READ MORE:Frölunda’s Filip Cederqvist on the odd goal gesture against Timrå
READ MORE:Carl Klingberg about the petting in Frölunda
Rly groundbreaking or necessary, I cannot help but appreciate the spirit behind his approach. In a sport like hockey, which often grapples with its rigid traditions, the willingness to weave humor and personality into the fabric of the game is a welcome change. The idea that a coach can be both a strategist and an entertainer acknowledges that fans crave more than just the basics of the sport; they desire connection, excitement, and the unexpected.
In this age of social media and constant content creation, the way fans interact with their favorite teams and players has evolved. The audience no longer simply wants to be passive observers; they want to be part of the narrative. This shift creates an opportunity for players and coaches to step outside the traditional confines of seriousness and embrace a more playful side—something that Rönnberg seems to grasp.
While some may argue that this approach undermines the professionalism associated with sports, I contend that it enhances the experience. By allowing room for levity, Rönnberg not only showcases his personality but also humanizes the sport. Fans can relate to a coach who isn’t afraid to poke fun at himself or the game. His antics might just be the spark that invites more people into the fold—those who might otherwise shy away from a sport perceived as too staid or serious.
Furthermore, Rönnberg’s antics push against the complacency of the status quo. His willingness to be “clownish” could inspire others within the hockey community to break the mold and inject their own flair into the game. After all, an ecosystem where creativity thrives can only enhance the viewing experience. So yes, let’s allow room for a little chaos amidst the order; let’s champion the performers as well as the players.
As we look to the future of hockey, perhaps it’s time we embrace a dual-lane ideology: one that celebrates the competitive spirit of the sport while also honoring its potential for entertainment. In doing so, we might just breathe fresh life into a game that, for all its rich history and cultural significance, sometimes fails to acknowledge its own capacity for joy. All the while, an old Canuck in the great beyond is undoubtedly cheering this shift toward a more vibrant hockey world, one with laughter, creativity, and yes, even a little clownery.
