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Inside the mind of a hockey enforcer


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But for all the talk about post-traumatic stress, Fedoruk enjoyed bloodying opponents and being bloodied in turn. Some don't, but plenty of them do. Check that. They don't just enjoy it. They love it, revel in it, miss it when it's gone. Listen to Byers, whose last NHL game was 18 years ago, but who rhapsodized on the eve of Boston's opener against the Flyers:

"I'd give my left nut to be in the dressing room at 7:10 tomorrow night, sitting in my stall after four coffees and five Vivarins, asking myself over and over, 'Man or a mouse? Man or a mouse?' What are you gonna do when [ex--Flyers goons] Dave Brown and Craig Berube look you in the eye, and you know it's time to go, your teammates know it's time to go, everyone in the building knows it's time to go, so you drop the mitts and do what's allowed in only one sport on the planet. And there's not an ass in the seats, and if you're lucky enough to come out of it without getting your lights punched out, it's happy days. I would give anything for that tomorrow."

Do all hockey enforcers think this way? Because I'm very afraid.

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