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Boy on Ice: The Life and Death of Derek Boogaard
The tragic death of hockey star Derek Boogaard at twenty-eight was front-page news across the country in 2011 and helped shatter the silence about violence and concussions in professional sports. Now, in a gripping work of narrative nonfiction, acclaimed reporter John Branch tells the shocking story of Boogaard's life and heartbreaking death.
Boy on Ice is the richly told story of a mountain of a man who made it to the absolute pinnacle of his sport. Widely regarded as the toughest man in the NHL, Boogaard was a gentle man off the ice but a merciless fighter on it. With great narrative drive, Branch recounts Boogaard's unlikely journey from lumbering kid playing pond-hockey on the prairies of Saskatchewan, so big his skates would routinely break beneath his feet; to his teenaged junior hockey days, when one brutal outburst of violence brought Boogaard to the attention of professional scouts; to his days and nights as a star enforcer with the Minnesota Wild and the storied New York Rangers, capable of delivering career-ending punches and intimidating entire teams. But, as Branch reveals, behind the scenes Boogaard's injuries and concussions were mounting and his mental state was deteriorating, culminating in his early death from an overdose of alcohol and painkillers.
Based on months of investigation and hundreds of interviews with Boogaard's family, friends, teammates, and coaches, Boy on Ice is a brilliant work for fans of Michael Lewis's The Blind Side or Buzz Bissinger's Friday Night Lights. This is a book that raises deep and disturbing questions about the systemic brutality of contact sports—from peewees to professionals—and the damage that reaches far beyond the game.
Boy on Ice is the richly told story of a mountain of a man who made it to the absolute pinnacle of his sport. Widely regarded as the toughest man in the NHL, Boogaard was a gentle man off the ice but a merciless fighter on it. With great narrative drive, Branch recounts Boogaard's unlikely journey from lumbering kid playing pond-hockey on the prairies of Saskatchewan, so big his skates would routinely break beneath his feet; to his teenaged junior hockey days, when one brutal outburst of violence brought Boogaard to the attention of professional scouts; to his days and nights as a star enforcer with the Minnesota Wild and the storied New York Rangers, capable of delivering career-ending punches and intimidating entire teams. But, as Branch reveals, behind the scenes Boogaard's injuries and concussions were mounting and his mental state was deteriorating, culminating in his early death from an overdose of alcohol and painkillers.
Based on months of investigation and hundreds of interviews with Boogaard's family, friends, teammates, and coaches, Boy on Ice is a brilliant work for fans of Michael Lewis's The Blind Side or Buzz Bissinger's Friday Night Lights. This is a book that raises deep and disturbing questions about the systemic brutality of contact sports—from peewees to professionals—and the damage that reaches far beyond the game.
384 pages, Paperback
First published October 1, 2014
93 people are currently reading
2049 people want to read
About the author
John Branch
36 books64 followersJohn Branch is a Pulitzer Prize–winning reporter for the New York Times. He is the bestselling author of Boy on Ice and The Last Cowboys and has been featured multiple times in Best American Sports Writing. He lives near San Francisco, California.
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February 20, 2018
This is a biography of Derek Boogaard, a hockey player who died at age 28 of alcohol and prescription drug poisoning.
I didn't know very much about hockey before I read this but fortunately John Branch discusses the history of the hockey for readers like me. He also examines the reasons why violence began and then persisted in the sport.
Branch explains the unofficial position called 'enforcer' on the hockey team that, essentially, intimidates or pummels the opponents into submission.
I knew that hockey was violent from anecdotal stories but I didn't realize how the various minor leagues supported the development of the enforcer role. Men are specifically scouted for their abilities in this area.
Derek wasn't born an enforcer. In Canada, hockey is like football in some small towns in America- everybody plays beginning at quite a young age.
His enormous size drew attention but he wasn't particularly skilled at the game. Coaches put him into the enforcer role and he was able to fulfill their demands.
Throughout his life, Derek suffered from pain caused by his job and began to take prescription drugs to find some relief. Predictably, he became addicted.
Branch carefully dissects the reasons why Derek abused drugs and it is very sad. His family obviously cared about him, but they either did not realize the extent of the problem or because of the distance that they lived away from Derek, they didn't have the ability to do anything about it.
An additional layer of complexity is added to the story with Branch's explanation of concussions in professional sports and how, in the late 1990's and early 2000's, medical experts were just becoming aware of the extent of the problem.
After his death, Derek's family donates his brain to the medical community and what they discover was truly shocking.
I liked Branch's analysis of the social, economic, and personal reasons why Derek lived the way he did. He painted a picture that was both approachable but also extraordinary.
Approachable in that Derek was a boy from a small town in Canada who liked quiet family evenings and country music. Extraordinary in that Derek was a professional athlete with a million dollar paycheck and needed to experience life to its fullest.
I also liked reading portions of a childhood diary written by Derek that included his grammar mistakes and misspellings. The inclusion of this material lent a very personal feel to the book.
From Derek's childhood to his last struggling days, Branch gives meticulous dates, times, and names.
I didn't like the seemingly endless descriptions of Derek's bloody fights on the ice. During his career, it seemed like he fought constantly and the biography feels monotonous throughout that portion. He went to a game, got in a fight, and repeat.
For that reason, the graphic details, I would recommend Boy on Ice to, primarily, fans of the game. If you have season tickets for your hockey team and relish the atmosphere, you may really enjoy this biography.
Personally, I found the descriptions of violence too disturbing to be enjoyable. However, Branch raises legitimate questions about the place of the enforcer in hockey, how it causes permanent damage to the men who take up that role, and how it changed and then ended the life of Derek Boogaard far too soon.
I received a free copy of this book through Goodreads First Reads.
I didn't know very much about hockey before I read this but fortunately John Branch discusses the history of the hockey for readers like me. He also examines the reasons why violence began and then persisted in the sport.
Branch explains the unofficial position called 'enforcer' on the hockey team that, essentially, intimidates or pummels the opponents into submission.
I knew that hockey was violent from anecdotal stories but I didn't realize how the various minor leagues supported the development of the enforcer role. Men are specifically scouted for their abilities in this area.
Derek wasn't born an enforcer. In Canada, hockey is like football in some small towns in America- everybody plays beginning at quite a young age.
His enormous size drew attention but he wasn't particularly skilled at the game. Coaches put him into the enforcer role and he was able to fulfill their demands.
Throughout his life, Derek suffered from pain caused by his job and began to take prescription drugs to find some relief. Predictably, he became addicted.
Branch carefully dissects the reasons why Derek abused drugs and it is very sad. His family obviously cared about him, but they either did not realize the extent of the problem or because of the distance that they lived away from Derek, they didn't have the ability to do anything about it.
An additional layer of complexity is added to the story with Branch's explanation of concussions in professional sports and how, in the late 1990's and early 2000's, medical experts were just becoming aware of the extent of the problem.
After his death, Derek's family donates his brain to the medical community and what they discover was truly shocking.
I liked Branch's analysis of the social, economic, and personal reasons why Derek lived the way he did. He painted a picture that was both approachable but also extraordinary.
Approachable in that Derek was a boy from a small town in Canada who liked quiet family evenings and country music. Extraordinary in that Derek was a professional athlete with a million dollar paycheck and needed to experience life to its fullest.
I also liked reading portions of a childhood diary written by Derek that included his grammar mistakes and misspellings. The inclusion of this material lent a very personal feel to the book.
From Derek's childhood to his last struggling days, Branch gives meticulous dates, times, and names.
I didn't like the seemingly endless descriptions of Derek's bloody fights on the ice. During his career, it seemed like he fought constantly and the biography feels monotonous throughout that portion. He went to a game, got in a fight, and repeat.
For that reason, the graphic details, I would recommend Boy on Ice to, primarily, fans of the game. If you have season tickets for your hockey team and relish the atmosphere, you may really enjoy this biography.
Personally, I found the descriptions of violence too disturbing to be enjoyable. However, Branch raises legitimate questions about the place of the enforcer in hockey, how it causes permanent damage to the men who take up that role, and how it changed and then ended the life of Derek Boogaard far too soon.
I received a free copy of this book through Goodreads First Reads.
August 28, 2024
Tagged "gender stuff" although there's little explicit discussion of gender politics, but masculinism looms over ice hockey culture. I include the culture of women's ice hockey.
I fell almost reluctantly into hockey romances, specifically m/m hockey romances, and then started reading around a bit about actual hockey and watching highlights on YouTube, slowed way down so I could follow the action. Even knowing only the little I'd osmosed from reading hockrom, I had to be awed by the speed and skill. (So that's why people call him Connor McJesus!) And the body checks don't look so terrible on video, at .75 or .5 speed. But I'd read about CTE in football, and even in hockrom the guys have concussions sometimes, and I'd read Ari Baran's Game Misconduct and everybody who reads m/m hockrom has heard of Taylor Fitzpatrick's Thrown Off the Ice, even if like me they ward their Kindle against it. So I started looking into CTE in hockey and ...
... it's worse than I thought. It's much, much worse than I thought. All those body checks, all that checking into the boards. Repeated bangs to the brain. Even with helmets. Even if there's no direct blow to the head.
Derek Boogaard was an enforcer, enforcers being the dudes whose role is to "protect" their teammates and to take revenge if a teammate is deliberately hit or hurt. Enforcers die, on average, 10 years younger than other hockey players (and if I'm not misreading the article linked there, ice hockey players aren't noted for their longevity, period). Enforcers often die, if not of diagnosed CTE then of causes associated with it: substance abuse disorder, depression, car accidents. The substance abuse has a great deal to do with the cumulative physical damage an enforcer sustains -- well, that most ice hockey players seem to sustain. Play ice hockey and, whether or not you get into fights, you're guaranteed to be in significant pain a significant portion of the time.
What might be even more shocking is that I learned from poking around on ice hockey message boards, like the NHL subreddit, that plenty of hockey fans think trends away from fighting make the sport less entertaining and exciting and less, you know, manly. Of Gary Bettman we will not speak except to say that he's still lying about the link between CTE and head impacts in hockey.
As to masculinism in women's professional ice hockey, here you go. The tl;dr as always is that gender essentialism is BS and women aren't any smarter or nicer than men.
John Branch writes: "Nobody dreams of playing hockey so that they can hurt other people. It just goes that way." Off the ice, Derek Boogaard seems to have been kind, gentle, generous, not too bright, and desperate for attention and affection. He probably should have been the giant dude all the toddlers climb on in day care and nursery school, but instead he grew up to be a feared enforcer in the NHL, so he's dead.
I still love hockrom. I think.
I fell almost reluctantly into hockey romances, specifically m/m hockey romances, and then started reading around a bit about actual hockey and watching highlights on YouTube, slowed way down so I could follow the action. Even knowing only the little I'd osmosed from reading hockrom, I had to be awed by the speed and skill. (So that's why people call him Connor McJesus!) And the body checks don't look so terrible on video, at .75 or .5 speed. But I'd read about CTE in football, and even in hockrom the guys have concussions sometimes, and I'd read Ari Baran's Game Misconduct and everybody who reads m/m hockrom has heard of Taylor Fitzpatrick's Thrown Off the Ice, even if like me they ward their Kindle against it. So I started looking into CTE in hockey and ...
... it's worse than I thought. It's much, much worse than I thought. All those body checks, all that checking into the boards. Repeated bangs to the brain. Even with helmets. Even if there's no direct blow to the head.
Derek Boogaard was an enforcer, enforcers being the dudes whose role is to "protect" their teammates and to take revenge if a teammate is deliberately hit or hurt. Enforcers die, on average, 10 years younger than other hockey players (and if I'm not misreading the article linked there, ice hockey players aren't noted for their longevity, period). Enforcers often die, if not of diagnosed CTE then of causes associated with it: substance abuse disorder, depression, car accidents. The substance abuse has a great deal to do with the cumulative physical damage an enforcer sustains -- well, that most ice hockey players seem to sustain. Play ice hockey and, whether or not you get into fights, you're guaranteed to be in significant pain a significant portion of the time.
What might be even more shocking is that I learned from poking around on ice hockey message boards, like the NHL subreddit, that plenty of hockey fans think trends away from fighting make the sport less entertaining and exciting and less, you know, manly. Of Gary Bettman we will not speak except to say that he's still lying about the link between CTE and head impacts in hockey.
As to masculinism in women's professional ice hockey, here you go. The tl;dr as always is that gender essentialism is BS and women aren't any smarter or nicer than men.
John Branch writes: "Nobody dreams of playing hockey so that they can hurt other people. It just goes that way." Off the ice, Derek Boogaard seems to have been kind, gentle, generous, not too bright, and desperate for attention and affection. He probably should have been the giant dude all the toddlers climb on in day care and nursery school, but instead he grew up to be a feared enforcer in the NHL, so he's dead.
I still love hockrom. I think.
October 11, 2014
The first time I looked at the dust jacket of John Branch’s new biography of former hockey player Derek Boogaard, entitled, BOY ON ICE: THE LIFE AND DEATH OF DEREK BOOGAARD I was struck by what a large figure Boogaard presented. Here was an individual who stood almost seven feet tall on skates and weighed around 275 pounds, however after reading Branch’s fine narrative of his life I was struck by how gentle and unassuming a person he was, and in many ways his behavior and thoughts were that of a boy, at times simple, and at times complex.
Derek Boogaard grew up in a small prairie town in northern Saskatchewan where hockey was something that boys engaged in as almost a religion. If you had any talent or perhaps the size it became a way of life. Boogaard fit right into this formula. He was always the largest boy for his age and though he was not the swiftest skater or the most proficient stick handler, he had what many coaches say cannot be taught, size. From his earliest days in organized hockey his role became clear, defend his smaller teammates, and make opponents feel uncomfortable whenever he was on the ice. John Branch does an exceptional job following Boogaard’s development as a person and a hockey player from a very young age and traces his career from its lowest level when kids follow the puck like swarming bees, through his teenage years as a Bantam, through junior hockey, various levels of minor league hockey, until he finally reached the pinnacle, the National Hockey League. In each instance, thanks to the cooperation of the Boogaard family, close friends, professional hockey careerists, and finally notes that Derek left about his childhood, Branch is able to explain what his subject went through and was thinking at each level of his career.
Boogaard’s official role as a hockey player was that of an “enforcer,” a role that consisted of intimidating opponents on the ice and if need be to fight the person who filled the same role for the opposing team. Branch does a marvelous job of tracing the history of violence in hockey and the evolution of the “enforcer.” He discusses the impact of that role on the sport, the reactions of players and coaches, and the rationalizations offered by team general managers, owners, and National Hockey League officials when it was becoming increasingly obvious that the constant violence, that at times dominated the sport, was resulting in the deterioration of the medical health of a number of hockey players in retirement, and who were still on the ice.
Branch does a superb job analyzing the sub culture that surrounds the “enforcer” in hockey. For most of the men who adopt the role it is their only “meal ticket” to play the sport professionally. Though some possess some hockey sense and/or skills, most do not, and are labeled as “goons.” These men do not enjoy fighting and in many ways approach their role as nothing more than a job. In Derek’s case off the ice he was a very sweet person who tried to care for everyone, was very giving of himself, and his generosity with his time and money new no bounds. However, when Derek was challenged on the ice, it seemed as if a light switch was turned on and he would try and pummel his opponent(s) into submission. Once the fight was over he would skate to the penalty box without engaging in the histrionics that other enforcers engaged in as they fed off the crowd in the arena. For years, enforcers liked what they earned from fighting, respect and a career that paid them well. However, they were not aware of the hidden costs. For Derek, with strength and power, with the ability to win fights and gain recognition, he basically did not enjoy beating others up. “He enjoyed it when he needed it, but some of it weighed on him.” The pressure was enormous, one lost fight, a broken bone or injury and the team could send him back to the minors, a lucrative career, over. It was difficult never knowing what a game would bring as “shift by shift, enforcers had to be ready to fight at a moment’s notice.”(154) If you didn’t want to do it, there were many others who would gladly take your roster spot. “Even as Derek arrived, the line of NHL enforcers was littered with broken lives. Alcohol and pain killers especially became the antidotes to the pain and pressure.” (155)
Branch catalogued many of Derek’s fights as if he were a ring announcer covering a fight broadcast from Las Vegas. The toll of his hockey career led to numerous injuries, broken noses, ripped tissue that never healed on his knuckles, torn shoulder muscles and constant back pain. For Derek and many others they thought their only recourse to maintain their jobs was pain killers. Branch delineates the prodigious amount of pain killers that Derek ingested over his four year hockey career. Vicodin, oxycodone, Percocet, oxycontin, et al was the elixir that dulled the pain. Team doctors would prescribe medications, many never kept records of what was provided, and if doctors would not cooperate, Derek, who had the funds found illegal ways to acquire his drugs. Two attempts at rehabilitation failed and what was increasingly clear was that the constant pounding that Derek’s brain experienced led to countless concussions that he was unaware of. He exhibited textbook characteristics of post concussion syndrome-mood swings, depression, loneliness, disorientation, and memory loss. It was clear when he over dosed accidently mixing alcohol and pain killers that had he not died at the age of twenty-nine, that his ensuing years would have witnessed the onset of dementia at a very young age. Derek’s brain was donated to science and the findings are very scary in terms of individuals who have suffered constant blows to the head. Since these blows are cumulative, each concussion, or whiplash movement will create the nausea, headaches, and other symptoms repeatedly. In Derek’s case it is especially sad because according to those close to him, he did not have a mean bone in his body.
Branch has done a service by presenting a wonderful biography, placing it in the context of a national epidemic dealing with brain injuries. Research is an ongoing avocation, but Branch’s book should raise the eyebrows of parents and anyone involved in contact sports, no matter the level, that we must do more to protect the athletes who are involved. If that means raising the curtain that sports officials at all levels have refused to raise, to change some of the rules, especially around fighting and unnecessary violence so be it-I am certain it will not detract from the skill and beauty of the sports involved, but it will save lives and improve the quality of life for athletes after they retire. This book is not your typical sports biography, as a father of a son who played prep school hockey and college lacrosse I wonder how many times he had “his bell rung/” Branch’s book is a wake up call, hopefully the right people will be listening.
Derek Boogaard grew up in a small prairie town in northern Saskatchewan where hockey was something that boys engaged in as almost a religion. If you had any talent or perhaps the size it became a way of life. Boogaard fit right into this formula. He was always the largest boy for his age and though he was not the swiftest skater or the most proficient stick handler, he had what many coaches say cannot be taught, size. From his earliest days in organized hockey his role became clear, defend his smaller teammates, and make opponents feel uncomfortable whenever he was on the ice. John Branch does an exceptional job following Boogaard’s development as a person and a hockey player from a very young age and traces his career from its lowest level when kids follow the puck like swarming bees, through his teenage years as a Bantam, through junior hockey, various levels of minor league hockey, until he finally reached the pinnacle, the National Hockey League. In each instance, thanks to the cooperation of the Boogaard family, close friends, professional hockey careerists, and finally notes that Derek left about his childhood, Branch is able to explain what his subject went through and was thinking at each level of his career.
Boogaard’s official role as a hockey player was that of an “enforcer,” a role that consisted of intimidating opponents on the ice and if need be to fight the person who filled the same role for the opposing team. Branch does a marvelous job of tracing the history of violence in hockey and the evolution of the “enforcer.” He discusses the impact of that role on the sport, the reactions of players and coaches, and the rationalizations offered by team general managers, owners, and National Hockey League officials when it was becoming increasingly obvious that the constant violence, that at times dominated the sport, was resulting in the deterioration of the medical health of a number of hockey players in retirement, and who were still on the ice.
Branch does a superb job analyzing the sub culture that surrounds the “enforcer” in hockey. For most of the men who adopt the role it is their only “meal ticket” to play the sport professionally. Though some possess some hockey sense and/or skills, most do not, and are labeled as “goons.” These men do not enjoy fighting and in many ways approach their role as nothing more than a job. In Derek’s case off the ice he was a very sweet person who tried to care for everyone, was very giving of himself, and his generosity with his time and money new no bounds. However, when Derek was challenged on the ice, it seemed as if a light switch was turned on and he would try and pummel his opponent(s) into submission. Once the fight was over he would skate to the penalty box without engaging in the histrionics that other enforcers engaged in as they fed off the crowd in the arena. For years, enforcers liked what they earned from fighting, respect and a career that paid them well. However, they were not aware of the hidden costs. For Derek, with strength and power, with the ability to win fights and gain recognition, he basically did not enjoy beating others up. “He enjoyed it when he needed it, but some of it weighed on him.” The pressure was enormous, one lost fight, a broken bone or injury and the team could send him back to the minors, a lucrative career, over. It was difficult never knowing what a game would bring as “shift by shift, enforcers had to be ready to fight at a moment’s notice.”(154) If you didn’t want to do it, there were many others who would gladly take your roster spot. “Even as Derek arrived, the line of NHL enforcers was littered with broken lives. Alcohol and pain killers especially became the antidotes to the pain and pressure.” (155)
Branch catalogued many of Derek’s fights as if he were a ring announcer covering a fight broadcast from Las Vegas. The toll of his hockey career led to numerous injuries, broken noses, ripped tissue that never healed on his knuckles, torn shoulder muscles and constant back pain. For Derek and many others they thought their only recourse to maintain their jobs was pain killers. Branch delineates the prodigious amount of pain killers that Derek ingested over his four year hockey career. Vicodin, oxycodone, Percocet, oxycontin, et al was the elixir that dulled the pain. Team doctors would prescribe medications, many never kept records of what was provided, and if doctors would not cooperate, Derek, who had the funds found illegal ways to acquire his drugs. Two attempts at rehabilitation failed and what was increasingly clear was that the constant pounding that Derek’s brain experienced led to countless concussions that he was unaware of. He exhibited textbook characteristics of post concussion syndrome-mood swings, depression, loneliness, disorientation, and memory loss. It was clear when he over dosed accidently mixing alcohol and pain killers that had he not died at the age of twenty-nine, that his ensuing years would have witnessed the onset of dementia at a very young age. Derek’s brain was donated to science and the findings are very scary in terms of individuals who have suffered constant blows to the head. Since these blows are cumulative, each concussion, or whiplash movement will create the nausea, headaches, and other symptoms repeatedly. In Derek’s case it is especially sad because according to those close to him, he did not have a mean bone in his body.
Branch has done a service by presenting a wonderful biography, placing it in the context of a national epidemic dealing with brain injuries. Research is an ongoing avocation, but Branch’s book should raise the eyebrows of parents and anyone involved in contact sports, no matter the level, that we must do more to protect the athletes who are involved. If that means raising the curtain that sports officials at all levels have refused to raise, to change some of the rules, especially around fighting and unnecessary violence so be it-I am certain it will not detract from the skill and beauty of the sports involved, but it will save lives and improve the quality of life for athletes after they retire. This book is not your typical sports biography, as a father of a son who played prep school hockey and college lacrosse I wonder how many times he had “his bell rung/” Branch’s book is a wake up call, hopefully the right people will be listening.
April 9, 2024
It's normal to just read the last 50 pages of a book, right?
This biography is incredibly detailed, minutely detailed at places, and if you are not interested in hockey, and even less interested in blow by blow descriptions of fights in hockey, and the role of the "enforcer" in professional sports, then the whole of this book may not prove to be that gripping.
Sometimes addicts are given every opportunity — or maybe even more prescriptions from the team doctors after failing drug tests. Expensive treatment centres? Sure you'll be sent there and given special treatment. Thousands of dollars available for illegal painkillers? No problem.
This is ultimately a sad story, a tragedy, and how could it be otherwise? It is also a story of concussions in sports, and the belated recognition of CTE as a factor in contact sports such as hockey (especially for the "enforcers" who are basically fighters and share the same injuries as boxers).
Giving this one 3 stars, because I'm sure it's worth at least for someone interested in hockey who read the whole thing.
This biography is incredibly detailed, minutely detailed at places, and if you are not interested in hockey, and even less interested in blow by blow descriptions of fights in hockey, and the role of the "enforcer" in professional sports, then the whole of this book may not prove to be that gripping.
Sometimes addicts are given every opportunity — or maybe even more prescriptions from the team doctors after failing drug tests. Expensive treatment centres? Sure you'll be sent there and given special treatment. Thousands of dollars available for illegal painkillers? No problem.
This is ultimately a sad story, a tragedy, and how could it be otherwise? It is also a story of concussions in sports, and the belated recognition of CTE as a factor in contact sports such as hockey (especially for the "enforcers" who are basically fighters and share the same injuries as boxers).
Giving this one 3 stars, because I'm sure it's worth at least for someone interested in hockey who read the whole thing.
January 24, 2022
this book broke my heart. sweet derek, who loved kids and interacting with his community. big lovable derek, who had to have extra strips of fabric sewn on to his jerseys because they were too small for his 6’8 frame. a kind, shy, polite boy who didn’t deserve what life gave him. his story is horrible, but knowing he was such an endearing person makes it that much worse. i’ll be thinking about this book for a very long time, and most definitely everytime i watch a hockey game.
March 22, 2015
Very good, very absorbing, very sad story about an NHL enforcer and how CTE (chronic traumatic encephalopathy) most likely paid a role in his demise. To me, the really tragic thing was how ineffectual and toothless all the checks and balances that should've helped him turned out to be... and how none of that has changed.
November 23, 2014
I read this book because I went to school with Derek in grades 2-4. I had casually followed his NHL career and was flabbergasted when his death was reported in 2011. I wanted to know more about what led to his death. This book covered everything from his birth, his early life in Saskatchewan, playing hockey in the WHL, and his rise through the NHL. In the afterword of the book, Branch explains how the book came to be and how much time he spent putting it together all with the permission and encouragement of Derek's parents. I was floored to learn so much about Derek in this book. In elementary school he got a bad rap because he was kind of a goofball and had a tough reputation through hockey. I always thought he was kind of sweet. I remember going over to his house and playing video games with him. Reading this book obviously brought up a lot of memories, and looking at childhood photos. I was even more sad reading how he struggled with addiction and how people who were supposed to be looking out for him just fed his addiction even more. I hope Derek's family has found peace and comfort with the publication of this book.
I would recommend this book to anyone who has a child in hockey or played hockey as a child themselves, or anyone who has any ties to my hometown, or people who have struggled with addiction or know someone who has.
I would recommend this book to anyone who has a child in hockey or played hockey as a child themselves, or anyone who has any ties to my hometown, or people who have struggled with addiction or know someone who has.
June 12, 2015
When my son was young, about age 5 or 6, I had this fantasy that he would become a professional hockey player. I even had the visual of the announcers calling his name…”and its Graham Sheldon from Colorado- and there is his mom in the stands…etc etc.” Very cliché. I did enroll him in skating lessons – even at the same rink that Joe Sakic had his kids enrolled. One January I determined he was ready to begin hockey. We took him to the big college rink, we blew about 250$ on used hockey gear, and my poor son, who only wanted to do what mom wanted, stepped out onto the ice… and valiantly tried to skate the drills but ultimately wound up clinging desperately to the rink wall. This was one of my many bad mommy moments. Ice hockey was not his dream and not even something he enjoyed casually. I transferred him back to regular skate lessons and tried to sell all the gear. Soon we stopped skating altogether. Now he plays tennis.
I preface with this because I feel that this little bump with reality saved us a lot of money and a lot of heartache. After reading John Branch’s account of Derek Boogaard’s short but eventful life as a hockey enforcer I wonder how anyone might think that the life of a professional hockey player might be healthy fulfillment of a childhood fantasy.
Mr. Branch does an excellent job of flushing out hockey history. Turns out fighting was part of the sport from the get go. And Canadians’ are, if not proud of this contribution, very loathe to give it up. The NHL has held onto to the fighting for obvious revenue reasons – however European and Russian leagues do not allow it. Fighting in hockey it turns out creates room for a very peculiar position. This position is one that does not get a lot of ice time, does not need finesse, but thrives mainly on being a menacing presence on the bench – to be unleashed on the opposing team only if necessary. This is called the Enforcer. This is what Derek Boogaard was for the Minnesota Wild and briefly for the New York Rangers.
The author does more than tell the tale of Derek’s demise, brought on mainly by his use and abuse of pain pills, he digs deep into the Boogaards family history in Saskatchewan, Canada. The same parental impulse to get your kid involved in something other than TV -is what brings the Boogaards to the ice rink. It is a way of life for most families in Canada. And the rise to the NHL is on the minds of most young Canadian boys, getting there is grueling and means spending time with teams in cities and/or towns other than your own. There are hockey foster families that host the team players and Derek bounces between many of them. Finally, backed by some believers, and demonstrating a commitment to the sport, Derek is drafted by the Wild.
All this plays out as a typical rag to riches story. What is unfortunate and lingers on with a bad taste, is the amount of unchecked violence that all hockey players, but especially enforcers are subjected to in the name of entertainment. Enforcers, as noted by the author, are far more likely to have substance abuse problems, brain trauma, and dysfunctional home lives, yet they are paid the least by the franchise.
Another angle, one that will most likely have the most impact on the game’s future, is that C.T.E. (chronic trauma encephalopathy)was found to be in Derek’s brain. Much attention has been given to this disease which can only be diagnosed posthumously and it has gained notoriety recently by predominantly being found in many deceased NFL players. The symptoms before death are memory loss, mood swings, impulsive behavior, and addiction. All of which was evident in Derek in his final months. Though most alarming to families of the player with the disease and including Derek’s family, is that the loved one is no longer recognizable as whom they were – they become someone else entirely.
For sports with high impact as part of the game this disease promises to be a game changer. Lawsuits against the NFL and the NHL, accusing the leagues of putting profit before safety, are already in progress. But more damaging is the public perception. Who wants to watch a sport where the player’s future health and happiness are jeopardized by their violent play for the benefit of our entertainment? John Branch has done an excellent job of focusing in on one such life in order to expose the larger problem.
I preface with this because I feel that this little bump with reality saved us a lot of money and a lot of heartache. After reading John Branch’s account of Derek Boogaard’s short but eventful life as a hockey enforcer I wonder how anyone might think that the life of a professional hockey player might be healthy fulfillment of a childhood fantasy.
Mr. Branch does an excellent job of flushing out hockey history. Turns out fighting was part of the sport from the get go. And Canadians’ are, if not proud of this contribution, very loathe to give it up. The NHL has held onto to the fighting for obvious revenue reasons – however European and Russian leagues do not allow it. Fighting in hockey it turns out creates room for a very peculiar position. This position is one that does not get a lot of ice time, does not need finesse, but thrives mainly on being a menacing presence on the bench – to be unleashed on the opposing team only if necessary. This is called the Enforcer. This is what Derek Boogaard was for the Minnesota Wild and briefly for the New York Rangers.
The author does more than tell the tale of Derek’s demise, brought on mainly by his use and abuse of pain pills, he digs deep into the Boogaards family history in Saskatchewan, Canada. The same parental impulse to get your kid involved in something other than TV -is what brings the Boogaards to the ice rink. It is a way of life for most families in Canada. And the rise to the NHL is on the minds of most young Canadian boys, getting there is grueling and means spending time with teams in cities and/or towns other than your own. There are hockey foster families that host the team players and Derek bounces between many of them. Finally, backed by some believers, and demonstrating a commitment to the sport, Derek is drafted by the Wild.
All this plays out as a typical rag to riches story. What is unfortunate and lingers on with a bad taste, is the amount of unchecked violence that all hockey players, but especially enforcers are subjected to in the name of entertainment. Enforcers, as noted by the author, are far more likely to have substance abuse problems, brain trauma, and dysfunctional home lives, yet they are paid the least by the franchise.
Another angle, one that will most likely have the most impact on the game’s future, is that C.T.E. (chronic trauma encephalopathy)was found to be in Derek’s brain. Much attention has been given to this disease which can only be diagnosed posthumously and it has gained notoriety recently by predominantly being found in many deceased NFL players. The symptoms before death are memory loss, mood swings, impulsive behavior, and addiction. All of which was evident in Derek in his final months. Though most alarming to families of the player with the disease and including Derek’s family, is that the loved one is no longer recognizable as whom they were – they become someone else entirely.
For sports with high impact as part of the game this disease promises to be a game changer. Lawsuits against the NFL and the NHL, accusing the leagues of putting profit before safety, are already in progress. But more damaging is the public perception. Who wants to watch a sport where the player’s future health and happiness are jeopardized by their violent play for the benefit of our entertainment? John Branch has done an excellent job of focusing in on one such life in order to expose the larger problem.
February 14, 2015
A distressing and depressing but necessary book to read.
Amazingly, it presents a history of fights in hockey (not fighting, but individual fights with details); the treatments with overuse of prescription pain killers and sleeping aids; the ignoring of pain, damage or concussion; the psychological and social costs to "enforcers" of knowing that each game could bring a fight that ends their careers, health or lives; the alcoholism and drug addictions; the refusal of hockey officials and their doctors to recognize or diagnose concussions and brain damage...... in a factual form...... without stating the obvious...... Fighting is dangerous and unnecessary in its present form.
The author lets the reader come to this conclusion without giving his own opinion... a sign of an intelligent writer anticipating an intelligent audience.
The book would be tedious because of all the fights that it recounts, except for the fact that it is necessary to see the kind of damage inflicted and the repetitive amount of damage, especially to the skull, brain and head.
Near the end of his life, when Boogaard was asked by a doctor how many concussions he had had, he said 2. Then he was asked how many times he was hit and temporarily saw only black and his answer was hundreds... these were concussions.
Concussions happen because the brain bounces inside the skull. This can happen without the head even striking anything. Helmets do not prevent this kind of movement of the brain inside the skull. Hockey is a game with rapid stops and starts. Being hit repeatedly on the head during a fight is even more damaging.
When his brain was studied after his death, it was found to be in the same state as an elder person with dementia. It was obvious that this was damage caused by multiple occurrences.
Many interesting comments appear in this book.
Fighting has been allowed because it is felt that it allows players to let off steam before worse eruptions of violence occur. There are written and understood rules of fighting; referees do not break up a fight until these limits are reached.
But they stand there and allow faces to be broken (not just noses, but cheek bones, eye sockets, chins, jaw joints, etc.) Vision is damaged, nerves are damaged, a lifetime of pain does not go away even with pain killers. The internal brain damage is worse; death is worst of all.
Players, coaches and officials say that fighting breaks up the momentum of the game.
Boogaard was considered to be the most important player on the team by opposing coaches, not because of his scoring ability, but because the damage he inflicted was so great that the team played differently just to stay away from him.
Fighting continues because the crowds seem to like it. But the crowds are not told the truth about the injuries from fighting. Bad for publicity, I suppose.
Fighting has become so bad that schools were set up to teach children how to survive and succeed in the inevitable fights that would occur in hockey.
There are alternatives proposed to solve these problems.
When people are in control enough to aim punches, they are also in control enough to aim these punches below the head.
The hands of many enforcers are damaged because of using bare hands in a fight. Some hockey players remove their helmets as a courtesy in a fight so that hands are less damaged... but it exposes their skulls and brains to more damage. If helmets are removed in a fight, the fight should be ended.
Enforcers work hard to maintain their popularity with the crowds. The author recounts endless examples of enforcers from each team agreeing when to fight and starting a fight for seemingly no reason. It became a contest to see who would win the "title", often held at center ice..........
What about playing hockey for the sport? It is a skill, it is a science, it is amazing to watch.
But these fights are not part of the hockey game.
And they are not sport.
At least not for Derek's family. The book ends sadly on the note that, after receiving the results of the study of Derek's brain, it would be hard to choose whether Derek would have preferred to die from an overdose of pills and alcohol or to live with the dementia that he was already experiencing.
A choice that should not need to be made if fighting was properly regulated in hockey.
Yes, this book is depressing. But it is eye-opening. And this book needs to be read.
Amazingly, it presents a history of fights in hockey (not fighting, but individual fights with details); the treatments with overuse of prescription pain killers and sleeping aids; the ignoring of pain, damage or concussion; the psychological and social costs to "enforcers" of knowing that each game could bring a fight that ends their careers, health or lives; the alcoholism and drug addictions; the refusal of hockey officials and their doctors to recognize or diagnose concussions and brain damage...... in a factual form...... without stating the obvious...... Fighting is dangerous and unnecessary in its present form.
The author lets the reader come to this conclusion without giving his own opinion... a sign of an intelligent writer anticipating an intelligent audience.
The book would be tedious because of all the fights that it recounts, except for the fact that it is necessary to see the kind of damage inflicted and the repetitive amount of damage, especially to the skull, brain and head.
Near the end of his life, when Boogaard was asked by a doctor how many concussions he had had, he said 2. Then he was asked how many times he was hit and temporarily saw only black and his answer was hundreds... these were concussions.
Concussions happen because the brain bounces inside the skull. This can happen without the head even striking anything. Helmets do not prevent this kind of movement of the brain inside the skull. Hockey is a game with rapid stops and starts. Being hit repeatedly on the head during a fight is even more damaging.
When his brain was studied after his death, it was found to be in the same state as an elder person with dementia. It was obvious that this was damage caused by multiple occurrences.
Many interesting comments appear in this book.
Fighting has been allowed because it is felt that it allows players to let off steam before worse eruptions of violence occur. There are written and understood rules of fighting; referees do not break up a fight until these limits are reached.
But they stand there and allow faces to be broken (not just noses, but cheek bones, eye sockets, chins, jaw joints, etc.) Vision is damaged, nerves are damaged, a lifetime of pain does not go away even with pain killers. The internal brain damage is worse; death is worst of all.
Players, coaches and officials say that fighting breaks up the momentum of the game.
Boogaard was considered to be the most important player on the team by opposing coaches, not because of his scoring ability, but because the damage he inflicted was so great that the team played differently just to stay away from him.
Fighting continues because the crowds seem to like it. But the crowds are not told the truth about the injuries from fighting. Bad for publicity, I suppose.
Fighting has become so bad that schools were set up to teach children how to survive and succeed in the inevitable fights that would occur in hockey.
There are alternatives proposed to solve these problems.
When people are in control enough to aim punches, they are also in control enough to aim these punches below the head.
The hands of many enforcers are damaged because of using bare hands in a fight. Some hockey players remove their helmets as a courtesy in a fight so that hands are less damaged... but it exposes their skulls and brains to more damage. If helmets are removed in a fight, the fight should be ended.
Enforcers work hard to maintain their popularity with the crowds. The author recounts endless examples of enforcers from each team agreeing when to fight and starting a fight for seemingly no reason. It became a contest to see who would win the "title", often held at center ice..........
What about playing hockey for the sport? It is a skill, it is a science, it is amazing to watch.
But these fights are not part of the hockey game.
And they are not sport.
At least not for Derek's family. The book ends sadly on the note that, after receiving the results of the study of Derek's brain, it would be hard to choose whether Derek would have preferred to die from an overdose of pills and alcohol or to live with the dementia that he was already experiencing.
A choice that should not need to be made if fighting was properly regulated in hockey.
Yes, this book is depressing. But it is eye-opening. And this book needs to be read.
June 5, 2015
As a child growing up in western Canada, Derek Boogaard stood out from his peers. He was a big kid who was often bullied by his classmates, and singled out by his teachers as a troublemaker whether or not it was deserved. His mother signed him up for junior hockey teams as a way to keep him busy, to meet friends, and to improve his self esteem.
Because of his size and strength, Derek was encouraged by his coaches to become his team’s “enforcer” which meant that he would be involved in fights with players on opposing teams. Although he was a shy and kind “gentle giant”, Derek took his job seriously. He set his sights on becoming an enforcer in the NHL. At the age of 23, he realized his dream when, at 6’8” and 270 pounds, he was drafted by the Minnesota Wild. He became one of the league’s top enforcers. Serious injuries and concussions mounted as Derek continued his hockey career and in 2011, at the age of 28, he was found dead in his apartment from an overdose of painkillers and alcohol.
Author John Branch meticulously researched this heartbreaking story, and presents a cautionary tale about the risks involved in playing at the pinnacle of sports which require physical confrontation without regard to the consequences. Even more disturbing is the realization that the violence we witness in these sports is perpetrated for audience appreciation and entertainment.
Because of his size and strength, Derek was encouraged by his coaches to become his team’s “enforcer” which meant that he would be involved in fights with players on opposing teams. Although he was a shy and kind “gentle giant”, Derek took his job seriously. He set his sights on becoming an enforcer in the NHL. At the age of 23, he realized his dream when, at 6’8” and 270 pounds, he was drafted by the Minnesota Wild. He became one of the league’s top enforcers. Serious injuries and concussions mounted as Derek continued his hockey career and in 2011, at the age of 28, he was found dead in his apartment from an overdose of painkillers and alcohol.
Author John Branch meticulously researched this heartbreaking story, and presents a cautionary tale about the risks involved in playing at the pinnacle of sports which require physical confrontation without regard to the consequences. Even more disturbing is the realization that the violence we witness in these sports is perpetrated for audience appreciation and entertainment.
August 15, 2015
Excellent book on a life cut short by CTE and by addiction. Full review is posted here:
http://sportsbookguy.blogspot.com/201...
http://sportsbookguy.blogspot.com/201...
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January 7, 2025Such a harrowing read, especially after the largest study on CTE in hockey was released just last month, and Gary Bettman still refuses to acknowledge the link between the sport and the deadly disease. Just a really disturbing look at how our appetite for violence and kids desperate to break into their favorite sport can prove an extremely dangerous and even fatal combination. While situations may not be exactly the same, it’s clear we still haven’t learned our lesson in protecting players and focusing on developing their game instead of using them as violent entertainment deployed to engage crowds losing interest…iykyk. I won’t act like hockey fights can’t be entertaining or energizing but when they come at the expense of players’ lives, there should be some reform. I also don’t think fights are the answer to outgrowing the perpetual “little brother” status of the nhl in pro sports. At least there are fewer fights these days which is (a small) something.
October 21, 2014
Derek Boogaard was known as The Boogeyman on ice, his menacing presence enough to frighten the opposing team into playing poorly even before he threw any punches. His record tells a stark story--few points, hardly any goals at all, minutes on the ice overshadowed by minutes in the penalty box. Derek Boogaard was one of the most feared enforcers in the NHL during his brief career, but he didn't have much time to enjoy his success, such as it was--Boogaard only lived to be 28.
This poignant book looks at hockey through a dark lens. Every dollar, every starstruck moment, comes at a steep price for players like Boogaard, who was valued for his size and his fists rather than for his skill, and could only hold onto his position by bleeding for his team, winning more often than not, but suffering more injuries in his 28 years than many athletes suffer in a lifetime. The pain, both physical and emotional, was more than Boogaard could handle without help, and the help he received was never enough.
Read this book for a saddening, sobering look at the toll exacted on professional athletes; for a portrait of a young man trying and failing to live his dream; for a reality check on the sport we love.
This poignant book looks at hockey through a dark lens. Every dollar, every starstruck moment, comes at a steep price for players like Boogaard, who was valued for his size and his fists rather than for his skill, and could only hold onto his position by bleeding for his team, winning more often than not, but suffering more injuries in his 28 years than many athletes suffer in a lifetime. The pain, both physical and emotional, was more than Boogaard could handle without help, and the help he received was never enough.
Read this book for a saddening, sobering look at the toll exacted on professional athletes; for a portrait of a young man trying and failing to live his dream; for a reality check on the sport we love.
July 8, 2014
Head injuries and drug abuse are not problems in just Football or Baseball. Boy on Ice is a cautionary tale for anyone who has a child, parent, sibling, relative, friend or lover who plays a competitive, contact sport.
The life of a professional hockey enforcer is a roller-coaster ride of physical and mental pain and John Branch takes readers on this wild ride as seen through the lens of Derek Boogaard's incredible, and all to short, life.
Highly recommended for hockey/sports fans and anyone who loves a great narrative nonfiction book. In Boy On Ice, Branch tells a fascinating but ultimately tragic coming of age story.
The life of a professional hockey enforcer is a roller-coaster ride of physical and mental pain and John Branch takes readers on this wild ride as seen through the lens of Derek Boogaard's incredible, and all to short, life.
Highly recommended for hockey/sports fans and anyone who loves a great narrative nonfiction book. In Boy On Ice, Branch tells a fascinating but ultimately tragic coming of age story.
February 6, 2019
I was bothered by the helmet on the front cover that had a half shield because he never wore a halfer.
July 8, 2025
A bit repetitive at times and wish he had more abt CTE at the end, otherwise good.
August 26, 2024
Saskatchewanin provinssi Kanadassa on harvaan asuttu paikka, joka on tuottanut maailmalle viljatuotteita ja kovaotteisia NHL-kiekkoilijoita, kuten kaikkien aikojen eniten rangaistusminuutteja keränneen Dave "Tiger" Williamsin, Dave "Hammer" Schultzin ja Derek "Boogeyman" Boogaardin.
Vuonna 1982 syntynyt Boogaard ehti pelata kuusi kautta maailman kovimmassa kiekkoliigassa NHL:ssa. Näissä peleissä hän teki kolme maalia ja antoi kolmetoista maalisyöttöä. Ei mikään hirmuinen pistenikkari tai taitopelaaja, siis, mutta hänen roolinsa olikin toimia eräänlaisena luistelevana pelotteena vastustajalle. Suomeksi sanottuna Boogaard oli tappelija, joka loi uransa nujakoimalla kaukalossa Minnesota Wildin ja New York Rangersin paidassa.
Jonkin aikaa elämä hymyilikin. Boogaardin nimellä varustettuja paitoja myytiin Minnesotassa enemmän kuin kenenkään muun seuran pelaajan, yleisö mylvi hänen nimeään, innokkaat fanit pyrkivät yhteiskuviin (tai sänkyyn) ja sopimukset olivat miljoonaluokkaa.
Elämä siis hymyili. Vai hymyilikö sittenkään? (Lukunäyte s. 142). Tappelijan elämä altisti myös erilaisille vammoille, joista pahimpia olivat päähän kohdistuneet toistuvat iskut. Lääkärit alkoivat määrätä Derekille voimakkaita kipulääkkeitä, jotta pelit pystyisivät jatkumaan. Sietokyky kasvoi, ja hän alkoi käyttää entistä suurempia määriä. Pian mukaan astuivat toistuvat päänsärkykohtaukset, ailahtelevainen ja holtittomia piirteitä saava käytös ja itkukohtaukset. Ja pahin oli vielä edessä.
New York Timesin palkintoja saaneena toimittajana tutuksi tulleen John Branchin "Tappelija: NHL-pelaaja Derek Boogaardin elämä ja kuolema" (Siltala, 2015) on yksi parhaista lukemistani urheilijaelämäkerroista. Branch ei ehtinyt koskaan tavata Boogaardia, mutta onnistuu tutkimustyöllään luomaan tästä erinomaisen ja monisyisen henkilökuvan, jossa valo ja varjo vuorottelevat. Vahva suositus kaikille urheilusta kiinnostuneille lukijoille. Otan kirjan mukaan myös kahdeksasluokkalaisten vinkkauksiin.
Vuonna 1982 syntynyt Boogaard ehti pelata kuusi kautta maailman kovimmassa kiekkoliigassa NHL:ssa. Näissä peleissä hän teki kolme maalia ja antoi kolmetoista maalisyöttöä. Ei mikään hirmuinen pistenikkari tai taitopelaaja, siis, mutta hänen roolinsa olikin toimia eräänlaisena luistelevana pelotteena vastustajalle. Suomeksi sanottuna Boogaard oli tappelija, joka loi uransa nujakoimalla kaukalossa Minnesota Wildin ja New York Rangersin paidassa.
Jonkin aikaa elämä hymyilikin. Boogaardin nimellä varustettuja paitoja myytiin Minnesotassa enemmän kuin kenenkään muun seuran pelaajan, yleisö mylvi hänen nimeään, innokkaat fanit pyrkivät yhteiskuviin (tai sänkyyn) ja sopimukset olivat miljoonaluokkaa.
Elämä siis hymyili. Vai hymyilikö sittenkään? (Lukunäyte s. 142). Tappelijan elämä altisti myös erilaisille vammoille, joista pahimpia olivat päähän kohdistuneet toistuvat iskut. Lääkärit alkoivat määrätä Derekille voimakkaita kipulääkkeitä, jotta pelit pystyisivät jatkumaan. Sietokyky kasvoi, ja hän alkoi käyttää entistä suurempia määriä. Pian mukaan astuivat toistuvat päänsärkykohtaukset, ailahtelevainen ja holtittomia piirteitä saava käytös ja itkukohtaukset. Ja pahin oli vielä edessä.
New York Timesin palkintoja saaneena toimittajana tutuksi tulleen John Branchin "Tappelija: NHL-pelaaja Derek Boogaardin elämä ja kuolema" (Siltala, 2015) on yksi parhaista lukemistani urheilijaelämäkerroista. Branch ei ehtinyt koskaan tavata Boogaardia, mutta onnistuu tutkimustyöllään luomaan tästä erinomaisen ja monisyisen henkilökuvan, jossa valo ja varjo vuorottelevat. Vahva suositus kaikille urheilusta kiinnostuneille lukijoille. Otan kirjan mukaan myös kahdeksasluokkalaisten vinkkauksiin.
August 30, 2025
Well that was a depressing read.
I will start off by saying I am a avid hockey fan. I have had family play in the nhl. My signed Laraque hat is tied in first place for my favourite hockey related posession. I heard about this book on the anniversary of Derek's death in the hockey subreddit (and aparently some of the events from this book were mentioned in Sean Avery's book so now I'm going to have to read that one too). Derek never played for my team (though we did try to trade for him).
I never really thought about the toll fighting takes on an enforcer. Hockey players (all of them) seem so tough (especially during playoffs) and they have padding (in some places). I knew they took hard painkillers but I never thought about the procedures involved with regards to dispensing them. Someone (okay multiple someones) should have faced repercussions for what happened involving Derek.
I also never really paid attention to the pay difference between a skilled/talented player and a enforcer. [Side note, I also had no idea Parros is so young] I loved watching Laraque ragdoll someone on the ice but if fighting was banned, I would still watch hockey and still enjoy it just as much.
I liked hearing about the small towns people played in and the teams in Canada.
Throughout the majority of the book I wondered what would have happened if. If Derek stayed with his first girlfriend. If he hadn't transfered to new york, etc. His parents are (understandably) still devastated from his death. I wonder where hockey (and other sports) will be deacades in the future, how prevalent CTE will be and what changes we will see in how it is diagnosed/treated.
I will start off by saying I am a avid hockey fan. I have had family play in the nhl. My signed Laraque hat is tied in first place for my favourite hockey related posession. I heard about this book on the anniversary of Derek's death in the hockey subreddit (and aparently some of the events from this book were mentioned in Sean Avery's book so now I'm going to have to read that one too). Derek never played for my team (though we did try to trade for him).
I never really thought about the toll fighting takes on an enforcer. Hockey players (all of them) seem so tough (especially during playoffs) and they have padding (in some places). I knew they took hard painkillers but I never thought about the procedures involved with regards to dispensing them. Someone (okay multiple someones) should have faced repercussions for what happened involving Derek.
I also never really paid attention to the pay difference between a skilled/talented player and a enforcer. [Side note, I also had no idea Parros is so young] I loved watching Laraque ragdoll someone on the ice but if fighting was banned, I would still watch hockey and still enjoy it just as much.
I liked hearing about the small towns people played in and the teams in Canada.
Throughout the majority of the book I wondered what would have happened if. If Derek stayed with his first girlfriend. If he hadn't transfered to new york, etc. His parents are (understandably) still devastated from his death. I wonder where hockey (and other sports) will be deacades in the future, how prevalent CTE will be and what changes we will see in how it is diagnosed/treated.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
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January 12, 2023Overall this book was really good aswell. Going from Love Zac to this book was really good. Because both of these books have so many similarities. With them having injures from sports leading to other things like drug and or alcohol abuse. I also thought the book was paced really well and didnt really have any major boring parts of the story. There arent many cons of this book. There are pros and the pros are the character development of Derek and the pros are just how the story is told. And sadly ending up like the last book I read Love Zac. Overall very good book.
June 15, 2025
I found it a tragic and brutal look into the world of enforcers, fighting in hockey, and the systematic enabling of destructive habits. Gary Bettman should be ashamed of the way CTE is treated in hockey. More needs to be done. Honestly, if you’re not a huge hockey fan the majority of the book is likely not interesting, since it’s a rather in-depth look at one player’s career, and as such has lengthy descriptions of trades, teams, and endless fights (which are frankly very hard to read… some of the descriptions of the violence had me cringing).
June 10, 2022
When Derek Boogaard died so tragically in 2011, it was splashed across headlines and the tragedy of it seeped into the pores of hockey fans around the US & Canada. This book goes beyond the headlines and looks at Derek’s life, his rise through the hockey ranks, and his struggles with the pain that came from being a professional hockey player.
December 6, 2023
Really gripping, really interesting, and really sad. I first got into NHL hockey during the 2009-2010 season as a Minnesota fan. Of the few names I remember from that team, Derek Boogaard was one of the most vivid. The whole story around his life and role in hockey and eventual death was really heartbreaking to read and see laid out as a gradual but inevitable decline.
November 13, 2025
A tough and tragic read. As a Wild fan and a season ticket holder from 2002 to 2006, it broke my heart to learn how hard Boogaard worked to reach his dreams only for the organization and the larger system around him to fail him in the end. The world needlessly lost a gentle soul.
May 22, 2018
It is a heartbreaking read, but it is also well-researched, well-written and completely worth your time.
March 6, 2024
This should be required reading for hockey fans, tbh.
February 9, 2025
An impeccably researched account of the tragic death of Derek Boogaard, an NHL enforcer. I hope the conditions for players being treated for substance abuse have improved, but the lack of coordination between the team physicians and the treatment center was appalling.
March 3, 2025
gary bettman number 1 enemy
April 15, 2024
im sorry to say the best part was the beginning and you really can only read that and maybe the epilogue and still get everything you need out of this
January 7, 2015
When Derek Boogaard died so tragically in 2011, it was splashed across headlines and the tragedy of it seeped into the pores of hockey fans around the US & Canada. This book goes beyond the headlines and looks at Derek’s life, his rise through the hockey ranks, and his struggles with the pain that came from being a professional hockey player.
To say this is a heart-wrenching story, well, it just doesn’t say it enough. My heart ached for this man who was still so much a boy. He struggled mightily to find a place and some comfort when he wasn’t on the ice; he never found it.
As a hockey fan who, despite having followed the game for at least a dozen years, still considers herself “learning the game,” this book provided amazing insight into the road the players take to make it to the NHL as well as what they go through when they get there. The day I finished this book, I went to a San Jose Sharks game that night – and watched the game with fresh eyes. With every hit, I remembered words from Boy on Ice and thought of Boogaard’s mangled and scarred hands and the agony he endured from taking punches as an enforcer.
I always felt like the NHL was forward-thinking when it came to head-injuries and CTE. I hope the league continues to be a leader in head-injury treatment. What I’d really like to see? Better control of the distribution of the medication that the players obviously need but that seems to be given out like candy rather than like the addictive drugs they are. I understand that controlling a player’s acquisition of pills illegally is much harder but I was appalled at how easily Boogaard got pills legally.
I hope I’m a better fan for having read the book; I feel like I am. I wish the Boogaard family peace – and thank you for sharing your son & his talents with us hockey fans.
To say this is a heart-wrenching story, well, it just doesn’t say it enough. My heart ached for this man who was still so much a boy. He struggled mightily to find a place and some comfort when he wasn’t on the ice; he never found it.
As a hockey fan who, despite having followed the game for at least a dozen years, still considers herself “learning the game,” this book provided amazing insight into the road the players take to make it to the NHL as well as what they go through when they get there. The day I finished this book, I went to a San Jose Sharks game that night – and watched the game with fresh eyes. With every hit, I remembered words from Boy on Ice and thought of Boogaard’s mangled and scarred hands and the agony he endured from taking punches as an enforcer.
I always felt like the NHL was forward-thinking when it came to head-injuries and CTE. I hope the league continues to be a leader in head-injury treatment. What I’d really like to see? Better control of the distribution of the medication that the players obviously need but that seems to be given out like candy rather than like the addictive drugs they are. I understand that controlling a player’s acquisition of pills illegally is much harder but I was appalled at how easily Boogaard got pills legally.
I hope I’m a better fan for having read the book; I feel like I am. I wish the Boogaard family peace – and thank you for sharing your son & his talents with us hockey fans.
April 5, 2016
I think this book is best suited for professional hockey fans.
Generally, on the plus side, the writing is very good and never gets in the way of the story; the book is a quick and easy read; Boogaard is a completely sympathetic figure; and the book gets better as it goes along. More specifically it did a very good job of putting the spotlight on the appalling over-prescribing of prescription drugs to professional hockey players and the league's indifference to the enforcement of its drug abuse policies; and it highlighted professional hockey's shameful resistance to reducing or eliminating fighting.
The problem is that the story is occasionally monotonous. I may have imagined it but some passages appeared to be repeated verbatim throughout the book. (Maybe the multitudinous accounts of brawling. How many different ways can you say one guy absolutely beat the shit out of the other guy?) The early section on Boogaard's youth is okay but it doesn't resonate. Additionally there seems to be something missing in the storytelling in that Boogaard comes across as very one-dimensional.
The book ultimately addresses the issues of concussions, sub-concussive head injuries and chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE) but its handling pales in comparison to the very good League of Denial (by Mark Fainaru-Wada & Steve Fainaru). (League of Denial is a far better book and I would recommend it to anyone regardless of whether they're a sports fan or not.)
Generally, on the plus side, the writing is very good and never gets in the way of the story; the book is a quick and easy read; Boogaard is a completely sympathetic figure; and the book gets better as it goes along. More specifically it did a very good job of putting the spotlight on the appalling over-prescribing of prescription drugs to professional hockey players and the league's indifference to the enforcement of its drug abuse policies; and it highlighted professional hockey's shameful resistance to reducing or eliminating fighting.
The problem is that the story is occasionally monotonous. I may have imagined it but some passages appeared to be repeated verbatim throughout the book. (Maybe the multitudinous accounts of brawling. How many different ways can you say one guy absolutely beat the shit out of the other guy?) The early section on Boogaard's youth is okay but it doesn't resonate. Additionally there seems to be something missing in the storytelling in that Boogaard comes across as very one-dimensional.
The book ultimately addresses the issues of concussions, sub-concussive head injuries and chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE) but its handling pales in comparison to the very good League of Denial (by Mark Fainaru-Wada & Steve Fainaru). (League of Denial is a far better book and I would recommend it to anyone regardless of whether they're a sports fan or not.)
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