The Unwritten Code: Hockey's Rules of Fighting

Honor Among Enforcers: The 10 Commandments of the Ice

Hockey is the only major professional sport in North America where fighting is not an automatic ejection. It is penalized, yes, with a five-minute major for each combatant. But it is tolerated. In some eras, it was actively celebrated. And for as long as fighting has existed in hockey, so has the code: an unwritten set of rules that governed when you could fight, how you could fight, and what lines you could never cross.

The code was never written down in any rulebook. It was never discussed in official league memos. It was passed from veteran to rookie, from enforcer to enforcer, through quiet conversations in dressing rooms and through the consequences of violating it. The code was hockey's honor system, and for decades, it was more powerful than any rule the NHL could put on paper.

This is the code, explained through the men who lived it.

Rule 1: Never Fight an Unwilling Opponent

This was the foundational rule, the one from which all others flowed. You did not force a fight on someone who didn't want one. The challenge had to be issued, and it had to be accepted. If a man shook his head or skated away, you let him go.

"You'd give a guy the look," explained Stu Grimson, the enforcer known as "The Grim Reaper." "Maybe you'd tap his shin with your stick. Maybe you'd say something. But if he didn't want to go, you didn't make him. That was the line. You fought willing men."

The logic was simple. Fighting an unwilling opponent was bullying, not toughness. The enforcers who violated this rule found themselves ostracized, not just by opponents but by their own teammates and the officials who worked the games.

There was, however, an important exception. If a player had done something egregious, a dangerous hit on a star player or a particularly dirty play, the willingness rule was suspended. In those cases, the code demanded that the offender answer for his actions, whether he wanted to or not. We'll get to that.

Rule 2: Don't Hit a Man When He's Down

Once a fighter went to the ice, the fight was over. You stepped back. You let the linesmen in. Under no circumstances did you continue throwing punches at a man on his knees or his back.

"That was probably the most sacred rule," one former enforcer recalled. "The linesmen knew it too. They'd give you a second to acknowledge it, and if you stepped back on your own, they respected that. If you kept going after a guy was down? That was the worst thing you could do. You'd have a target on your back for the rest of your career."

Bob Probert, widely regarded as the greatest fighter in NHL history, was known for following this rule religiously. In his 246 career fights, Probert would almost always pull back the moment his opponent hit the ice. It was one of the reasons he was respected even by the men he defeated.

The rare violators faced consequences. When a player continued to pummel a downed opponent, every enforcer in the league took note. The next time that player's team came to town, he would be made to answer for it.

Rule 3: Answer the Bell When Challenged

If you were an enforcer, your job was to fight. You didn't get to pick and choose. When the moment called for it, when a teammate had been wronged or the other team's tough guy was looking for a dance, you answered the bell. Every time.

"The worst thing you could do as an enforcer was duck a fight," said one former NHL tough guy. "Your teammates were counting on you. If you didn't go when you were supposed to go, you'd lose the room. And once you lose the room, you lose everything."

Tie Domi was the embodiment of this rule. In his 333 career fights, Domi never turned down a challenge, regardless of the opponent's size or reputation. At 5'10" and 213 pounds, he regularly fought men who had four or five inches and 30 or 40 pounds on him. He lost plenty of those fights. He answered the bell every single time.

"Tie might not have won every fight," a former teammate observed, "but he never, ever backed down. And that meant more to the guys in the room than any knockout ever could."

Rule 4: Protect Your Teammates

This was the enforcer's primary purpose, the reason the role existed. If someone took a cheap shot at your goalie, you fought. If someone ran your star player, you fought. If someone tried to intimidate your rookie, you fought. The enforcer was a bodyguard on skates, and his obligation to protect his teammates superseded everything else.

The dynamic was straightforward. During the era of enforcers, every team had at least one player whose job was to ensure that opponents paid a physical price for dirty play. This created a deterrent effect that, paradoxically, reduced overall violence. Players thought twice about slashing, spearing, or hitting from behind because they knew that an enforcer would hold them accountable.

"You never had to ask for protection," recalled a former skill player who played during the 1990s. "The tough guys knew their job. If someone ran me, I didn't have to look around for help. Probie, or Grimmy, or whoever our guy was, he'd already be on his way. That's what the code was all about."

Rule 5: Don't Target Star Players Without Consequence

This rule was the enforcement mechanism of the entire code. Star players, the Gretzkys and Lemieuxs and Yzermans of the world, were protected by an unspoken agreement. You could hit them cleanly. You could play them hard. But if you crossed the line, if you delivered a cheap shot or a dangerous hit, the consequences were severe and immediate.

The most famous example in hockey history is the Detroit Red Wings-Colorado Avalanche rivalry. On May 29, 1996, Colorado's Claude Lemieux delivered a vicious hit from behind on Detroit's Kris Draper during Game 6 of the Western Conference Finals. Draper's face was driven into the dasher boards. He suffered a broken jaw, a broken nose, a broken cheekbone, and required extensive reconstructive surgery.

The hit was, by any measure, a violation of the code. Lemieux had targeted an opponent from behind, causing catastrophic injury. The Red Wings did not forget.

Nearly ten months later, on March 26, 1997, Detroit finally had their chance. In one of the most anticipated games in NHL history, Darren McCarty beat Lemieux in a fight that was less a hockey fight and more a public punishment. McCarty pummeled Lemieux, who turtled on the ice, refusing to fight back. The brawl that followed involved every player on both benches and resulted in 148 penalty minutes.

Lemieux's original hit had violated the code. McCarty's response was the code enforcing itself.

Rule 6: Don't Use Your Stick as a Weapon

Your fists were acceptable. Your stick was not. This distinction was absolute. A player who swung his stick at an opponent, even during a heated altercation, had committed the ultimate transgression against the code.

Marty McSorley learned this the hardest way possible. On February 21, 2000, during a game between the Boston Bruins and the Vancouver Canucks, McSorley slashed Donald Brashear across the head with his stick. Brashear fell backward, his head striking the ice. He suffered a grade three concussion and a grand mal seizure on the ice.

McSorley was suspended for 23 games (the remainder of the season) and was eventually convicted of assault with a weapon in a British Columbia court. He never played another NHL game.

The incident was a watershed moment. McSorley had been a respected enforcer, a longtime protector of Wayne Gretzky who had fought honorably for most of his career. But the stick swing erased all of that. In the eyes of the code, there was no coming back from what he had done.

"The stick is off-limits," one enforcer said flatly. "That's not a gray area. That's black and white. You swing your stick at a guy's head, you're done. The code can't protect you from that."

Rule 7: Drop the Gloves Together

The ritual of the hockey fight was carefully choreographed, even if it appeared chaotic to the untrained eye. Both fighters would face each other. There would be a moment of acknowledgment, a nod, a word, a mutual understanding. And then, simultaneously, both men would drop their gloves.

This ritual served a critical purpose: it established consent. Both fighters were agreeing, in that moment, to the fight. The simultaneous glove drop ensured that neither man had a head start, that neither could land a cheap shot while the other was still gloving up or looking away.

"The glove drop was sacred," explained a former referee. "As an official, you learned to read it. You could see it coming. Two guys would lock eyes, and you'd know. When the gloves came off together, you backed away and let them go. That was the system working."

Fighters who tried to gain an advantage by throwing a punch before the gloves were fully off were branded as dishonorable. It was a reputation that followed a player and made his life significantly harder.

Rule 8: No Sucker Punches

Closely related to the glove-dropping rule, the prohibition against sucker punches was one of the code's strictest commandments. You did not hit a man who wasn't prepared. You did not jump someone from behind. You did not wait for an opponent to look away and then attack.

Tie Domi learned this lesson publicly on November 11, 1995, when he sucker-punched Ulf Samuelsson of the Rangers during a game at Madison Square Garden. Samuelsson was not expecting the blow and was knocked unconscious. Domi received an eight-game suspension.

More than the suspension, the incident damaged Domi's reputation among enforcers. He had violated one of the core tenets of the code, and it took time for him to rebuild trust within the fighting community. Domi went on to have a long and celebrated career as an enforcer, but the Samuelsson incident was a stain he never fully erased.

"A sucker punch is cowardice," one former enforcer stated. "I don't care who you are or what the other guy did. You look him in the eye first. You give him a chance. Otherwise, you're not a fighter. You're just a thug."

Rule 9: Respect a Good Fight

When two men fought well, when they traded punches evenly and neither backed down, there was an understanding that both fighters had earned respect. Win or lose, a good fight elevated both combatants. The rivalry between Bob Probert and Tie Domi endured for years precisely because both men fought with honor and courage.

"After a really good fight, you'd skate to the penalty box and you'd nod at the other guy," one enforcer recalled. "Sometimes you'd even say something. 'Good fight.' 'Hell of a scrap.' It sounds strange to people outside hockey, but there was genuine respect there. You had just tested each other in the most basic way two men can, and you both came through it."

Stu Grimson and Probert fought multiple times over their careers, and despite the ferocity of their battles, they maintained a mutual respect that lasted beyond their playing days. Grimson has spoken about Probert with admiration, acknowledging him as the toughest opponent he ever faced while also recognizing the humanity behind the fists.

This culture of respect extended to the dressing room as well. Enforcers from opposing teams often socialized off the ice, sharing a beer or a meal after a game in which they had tried to knock each other's teeth out hours earlier. The code made this possible. When fights were conducted with honor, they did not create lasting animosity. They created bonds.

Rule 10: The Enforcer Protects, Never Initiates Dirty Play

The final commandment of the code was perhaps the most important: the enforcer's role was defensive, not offensive. An enforcer fought to protect, to deter, to respond. He did not start trouble. He did not run around taking cheap shots at opponents. He did not use his size and strength to bully smaller players.

The best enforcers understood this distinction instinctively. Probert, with all his ferocity, was not a dirty player. His 3,300 penalty minutes came overwhelmingly from fighting majors and roughing penalties, not from dangerous infractions. Grimson, with his 2,113 PIM, was the same. These men were warriors, but they fought within a framework of honor.

"An enforcer who played dirty wasn't an enforcer," explained a former coach. "He was a liability. The best tough guys knew when to fight and when to skate away. They knew how to intimidate without crossing the line. That restraint, that discipline, is what separated the great enforcers from the guys who were just out there swinging."

Players who blurred the line between enforcing and dirty play found themselves isolated. Teammates would distance themselves. Opponents would target them with extra venom. The code was, above all, a system of mutual accountability, and those who abused their power were held to account.

When the Code Broke Down: The Worst Violations

The code worked because the vast majority of players respected it. But when it broke down, the results were catastrophic.

Lemieux on Draper (1996)

Claude Lemieux's hit from behind on Kris Draper was the code violation that launched the greatest rivalry in modern hockey. The Red Wings-Avalanche feud that followed produced some of the most violent hockey ever played, precisely because the code demanded retribution for Lemieux's transgression.

McSorley on Brashear (2000)

Marty McSorley's stick attack on Donald Brashear violated multiple tenets of the code simultaneously: he used his stick as a weapon, he struck from behind, and the attack was premeditated. It ended McSorley's career and resulted in criminal charges.

Bertuzzi on Moore (2004)

On March 8, 2004, Vancouver's Todd Bertuzzi attacked Colorado's Steve Moore from behind, punching him in the head and driving him face-first into the ice. Moore suffered three fractured vertebrae and a severe concussion. He never played in the NHL again. Bertuzzi received a 17-month suspension and was charged with assault.

The Bertuzzi-Moore incident is the most extreme example of what happens when the code is used as justification for vigilante justice that goes far beyond acceptable bounds. Moore had earlier injured Vancouver captain Markus Naslund with a hit that many considered dirty, but Bertuzzi's response was so disproportionate that it horrified even the most ardent defenders of hockey fighting.

The Code as a System of Order

To those outside hockey, the idea that violence could create order seems absurd. But the code, for all its flaws, was a functioning system of self-governance that accomplished something the official rulebook never could: it deterred the most dangerous forms of violence by promising swift, proportionate consequences.

A player who knew that a team's enforcer would hold him accountable for dirty play was less likely to take liberties. A player who knew the code protected him from sucker punches and unfair fights was more willing to engage in honest competition. The code created a framework in which aggression was channeled into a controlled, consensual form: the hockey fight.

"Since the enforcer has been phased out, there's been more stick work, more cheap shots, more dangerous hits," observed one former player. "People think getting rid of fighting made the game safer. In some ways, it did the opposite. When there was a guy on every bench who would make you answer for your actions, players policed themselves. Now? It's the Wild West."

This is the paradox of the code. It was violent, yes. It produced injuries, addiction, CTE, and death. But it also created a system in which the worst impulses of the game were held in check by the threat of accountable, honorable violence. The history of hockey fights is, in many ways, the history of the code itself.

The Code in the Modern Game

Fighting in the NHL has declined by more than 70% since its peak in the 1980s. The designated enforcer is effectively extinct. And with the enforcer's departure, the code has largely faded from the game.

What remains are echoes. When a player delivers a big clean hit and the opposing team sends out a heavy forward to challenge him, that is the code. When two players square off at a faceoff after a controversial play, that is the code. When a veteran player tells a young teammate to keep his head up after taking a liberty, that is the code.

But the full system, the one in which enforcers like Probert and Domi and Grimson and McSorley operated, is gone. And whether hockey is better or worse for its absence is a debate that will not be settled anytime soon.

What is certain is this: for the men who lived by the code, it was not just a set of rules. It was an identity. It was a source of pride. And for many of them, it was the defining framework of their professional lives. The code asked men to be violent, but it also asked them to be honorable. It demanded toughness, but it also demanded restraint. It was, in its own brutal way, a thing of beauty.

And the game will not see its like again.

Frequently Asked Questions About the Hockey Fighting Code

What are the unwritten rules of hockey fighting?

The hockey fighting code includes ten primary rules: (1) Never fight an unwilling opponent, (2) Don't hit a man when he's down, (3) Answer the bell when challenged, (4) Protect your teammates, (5) Don't target star players without consequence, (6) Don't use your stick as a weapon, (7) Drop the gloves together, (8) No sucker punches, (9) Respect a good fight, and (10) The enforcer protects but never initiates dirty play. These rules were never written in any official document but were understood and enforced by the players themselves.

What happens when a player breaks the hockey fighting code?

Code violations trigger swift retribution from enforcers around the league. The most dramatic example is the Detroit Red Wings-Colorado Avalanche rivalry, which erupted after Claude Lemieux's hit from behind on Kris Draper in 1996. Darren McCarty's beating of Lemieux nearly a year later was the code enforcing itself. Players who consistently violate the code find themselves targeted by every tough player in the league.

Why do hockey players drop their gloves before fighting?

The simultaneous glove drop serves as mutual consent to the fight. Both players agree to fight by removing their gloves at the same time, ensuring neither man has the advantage of a surprise attack. The ritual is a core component of the code and establishes that the fight is between two willing participants. Fighting with gloves on or throwing punches before gloves are off is considered dishonorable.

Who were the most respected enforcers in terms of following the code?

Bob Probert is widely regarded as the gold standard of an honorable fighter. Despite having 246 career fights, Probert was known for pulling back when opponents went down and for never initiating dirty play. Stu Grimson, Tie Domi, and Dave Semenko were also known for fighting within the code's framework. These men were feared but respected because they conducted themselves with honor.

Did the hockey fighting code actually reduce violence?

Paradoxically, yes. The code served as a deterrent against dangerous play. Players who might otherwise take cheap shots were restrained by the knowledge that an enforcer would hold them accountable. Many former players and coaches believe the decline of enforcers has led to an increase in dangerous stick work and hits from behind, as there is no longer an immediate physical consequence for dirty play.

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