Brodeur Breaking Records

Last night I watched the NJ Devils' hockey game, in which Martin Brodeur, the Devils' goalie, broke the NHL record for victories by a goaltender with the Devils' win against the Chicago Blackhawks 3-2. It marked Brodeur's 552nd win with the team. What was interesting to me about watching the game was the idea (echoed by fans, players, and announcers alike) that it might be a moment of "history-making."

The notion that history could be made at the event had many implications. Wieviorka talks about how the mode of the formation of history influences our collective memory of events and moments. Certainly, the way the camera operators and television station broadcast the game influenced the way I and other spectators will remember it. That it was set up as a potential moment of history ascribed to it a level of significance. We were, in effect, being told to pay special attention because it might become something worth remembering. If, at the end of the game, the Devils had not won and Brodeur had not broken the record, would I have just let my memory of the game fade into my general memory of hockey games I've watched? My guess is that I probably would have. But how did the experience of watching this game of potential history-in-the-making influence how I and others experienced it?

Firstly, the arena was sold out and the energy in the crowd and on the ice was palpable, even through a TV (large and HD probably helped). Throughout the whole game, there was a focus on Brodeur from all angles (in the game, on his history as a goaltender, about his recent injury). One of the announcers said that it seemed like the whole crowd gasped every time Brodeur got even close to touching the puck. What does that do to the psyche of the players? To Brodeur himself? Surely, the idea that Brodeur could very well break the record that night influenced the way the cameramen followed the game. Inbetween plays, shots of Brodeur were almost always editted into the broadcast.

At the end of the game, after Brodeur cut the net off of the goal as a souvenier with the help of his teammates, I was struck that so much of the glory went to him. It wasn't as if he had won the game on his own, after all. Now, I don't think that anyone necessarily believes that he did, but by the way the game was followed and the record defined as a singular acheivement, it could sound that way. Afterall, he was not the only star player during the game and though he prevented the Blackhawks from winning by blocking goals, he did not himself score the Devils' goals either. Notably, Patrik Elias passed the Devils' all-time scoring leader with his 702nd point in the second period. Though his acheivement was arguably of a smaller scale, I couldn't help but notice that it most certainly would have been a bigger deal (in terms of media coverage) had it not been overshadowed by Brodeur's "moment of history."

The announcers and media-coverage of the game, which was extended because of the Devils' and Brodeur's win certainly affected the way I (and everyone else watching at home) experienced and will remember the game. Knowing it could be important surely made me pay closer attention to the game overall, but most specifically, to Brodeur's goaltending, though I wonder how much choice I had in that matter, since his actions were heavily covered throughout. I'm sure the people at the game had a very different experience, one that was probably more emotionally charged. Emotion can certainly play a huge role in our memories - maybe even our ability to remember - as Weiviorka points out as a strategy used in the Eichmann trial. If the game is super-charged with emotion - before, during and after - will fans remember it better? Will a positive viewing experience bring watchers back to the TV station and/or the Devils arena? Surely, Brodeur's accomplishment was not just about hockey.