Men at Play is Robidoux's academic account of his fieldwork with an AHL hockey team over the course of a season. His basic observations broaden quickly, posing serious questions about the nature of professional hockey and its effect on the men that play it.
This book covers a lot of ground--philosophical, sociological, psychological, etc.--and it's not the easiest read, but it's definitely worth the effort. Here are some of the points covered.
How did the game pass out of the vernacular and into the professional realm, out of the Native into the colonial, and how was it "formulated to fit the regional climates, landscapes, and sensibilities of Canadian males in the 19th century"? The author covers some of this territory, although it's been covered before. The more interesting discussion is about how, in the contexts of modernization, Europeanization/colonialization and professionalization, the game came to be mechanized, and how that mechanization not only constrains players' actions and thinking, but also, at a certain level, favors creativity: "the systems must be at once followed and subverted if players are to create chances for themselves and their team to achieve victory." Fascinating.
Regarding the players, Robidoux makes an interesting point about how, he believes, the reduction of the player to a body causes him to be diminished, and links this to the way women have been traditionally viewed as little more than bodies: the "patriarchal construct that associates men with mind and women with body." This is a deeper take on the exploitation suffered by these players and, possibly, the violence that some of them exercise outside the rink. Robidoux explains, "once outside the hockey enclosure, the physically dominant model of masculinity loses its validity, and these young men are left with only physical dominance to compensate for their sudden powerlessness."
Of course, violence is a big part of the game itself, too. Robidoux differentiates between the fan's perspective, in which fighting is merely a spectacle, and the player's, in which the blood and the injuries are all too real: "...the act of beating someone up, or getting beaten up, is not staged or fabricated; the players suffer real consequences for their actions." This seems obvious, yet is only in recent years attracting much attention.
Robidoux also writes about how the professional game is set apart from reality--the artificiality of the ice, the "hockey time" on the clock--all the way to the initiation rituals that not only separate the player from ordinary society, but also sublimate him to the team. That these sorts of rituals continue throughout the players' careers leads Robidoux to the conclusion that "the entire hockey experience [is] liminal - which from an outsider's perspective is likely a reasonable assessment." In this regard, there are some interesting questions to be posed about the relationships between players and fans (especially now that so many are on social media), and even about relationships between players and their families.
There's more to this book, but you probably get the idea by now. It isn't the typical glorification of the game and players that we're used to reading, but if you want to go deeper, Men at Play is a great place to start.