They Think You’re Stupid. They Really Do.
Let’s not mince words here. The news that Cal Foote, one of the infamous five from the 2018 World Juniors team, has quietly signed an AHL contract with the Chicago Wolves isn’t just a sports transaction. It’s a test. It’s a probe. It’s the powerful, insulated world of professional hockey dipping a toe in the water to see if it’s boiling with the righteous anger of fans or if it has cooled to a manageable simmer of apathy. They’re betting on the latter. They’re betting that you’ve forgotten, that you’ve moved on, that you’ll see the headline and just shrug. Big mistake.
This is the first crack in the dam of accountability they were forced to build. A dam constructed of PR statements, vague suspensions, and legal stonewalling. And now they’re ready to let the water (and the players) flow back through as if the entire village downstream wasn’t devastated. The ink isn’t even dry on the court documents acquitting Foote, Carter Hart, Michael McLeod, Alex Formenton, and Dillon Dube of sexual assault, and already the league and its affiliates are rolling out the red carpet. Not a big, flashy NHL red carpet, mind you. That would be too obvious. No, this is a grimy, back-alley entrance through the AHL. It’s a soft launch for their grand project of societal amnesia.
The Illusion of Justice
You need to understand what an “acquittal” really means, because the league’s lawyers and the players’ agents are counting on you not knowing the difference. It does not mean they are innocent. It does not mean a panel of their peers looked at the evidence and declared them pure as the driven snow. It means one thing and one thing only: that a prosecutor, working within the ridiculously high standards of the criminal justice system, could not prove guilt “beyond a reasonable doubt.” That’s it. That’s the whole ball of wax. The system, which is often more about technicalities and procedures than actual truth (especially when high-priced legal teams are involved), failed to secure a conviction.
Think about that. For years, we heard whispers. We heard about the secret settlements. We heard about Hockey Canada’s disgusting slush fund—a pot of money, partly funded by your kids’ registration fees, mind you—used to quietly pay off victims of alleged sexual assault to make problems disappear. It was a system designed not for justice, but for silence. It was a machine built to protect the “brand” and the future earning potential of its star assets above all else. Above decency. Above the safety of young women. And now that same system, the legal one, produces a result that the NHL can hide behind. They can throw their hands up and say, “Hey, what can we do? The courts have spoken!” It’s a pathetic, cowardly excuse. It’s the ultimate bureaucratic sidestep. They have a morality clause in their contracts for a reason, but they only seem to enforce it for things that don’t involve their golden boys caught in a truly heinous situation.
A Timeline of Deceit
Let’s not forget how we got here, because the timeline tells a story of institutional rot. Back in 2018, a celebration in London, Ontario, following a gold medal win turns into a nightmare for a young woman. For years, there’s silence. Complete and utter silence from the authorities, from Hockey Canada, from the NHL. Then, in 2022, the story explodes. We learn about the settlement. We learn about the cover-up. The federal government gets involved (mostly for show, of course), sponsors pull out, and suddenly Hockey Canada is in full panic mode. The lights were finally turned on, and the cockroaches were scattering. Only then, under immense public pressure, did a real investigation begin. Four years later.
The players involved, who had been enjoying their multi-million dollar NHL careers, were finally suspended. Not because the league suddenly grew a conscience, mind you, but because the sponsors were threatening to pull the plug on the whole operation. It was about money. It’s always about money. The suspensions were a PR maneuver, a way to park the problem until the slow-moving wheels of the legal system produced a result—any result—they could use as an excuse. And now they have it. An acquittal. The perfect get-out-of-jail-free card. They can now claim the players have been “cleared” and that their suspensions are over. It’s a disgusting sleight of hand. They are treating a legal acquittal as a moral vindication, and they are hoping you’re too busy to notice the difference.
Foote is Just the Beginning
So now Cal Foote is a Chicago Wolf. A defenceman who was once a first-round pick, now starting over in the minors. Why? Because it’s manageable. The backlash to an AHL signing is smaller. The media attention is less intense. The Chicago Wolves, an affiliate of the Carolina Hurricanes, get to be the guinea pigs. They are the ones testing the public’s gag reflex. If this goes over with only a minor fuss, watch what happens next. You’ll see another player sign a deal in Europe, perhaps. Then another will get a tryout offer. Before you know it, Carter Hart will be back between the pipes for the Flyers, and the commentators will be forced to talk about his “long journey back” and his “personal struggles,” framing him as the victim. Mark my words. It is a calculated, cynical strategy designed to slowly reintroduce these players into the ecosystem until their presence feels normal again.
This isn’t about one player or even five players. It’s about a culture that has been allowed to fester in the dark corners of locker rooms for decades. A culture of entitlement, of seeing women as objects, of believing that athletic prowess puts you above the law and common decency. Hockey Canada protected that culture. The NHL, for all its talk about “growing the game” and “inclusivity,” is now doing the same. They had a chance to make a real statement. They could have said that regardless of the court’s decision, the behavior and the situation surrounding the 2018 team fell so far below the standard expected of an NHL player that these individuals would not be welcome back. That would have been leadership. That would have been standing for something. Instead, they took the coward’s way out. They hid behind the lawyers. They are, quite simply, failing. They are failing the fans, they are failing the women who love and play the sport, and they are failing the very idea that being a professional athlete should mean holding yourself to a higher standard, not a lower one.
What happens now is up to us, the people who buy the tickets, the jerseys, the cable packages. They think we have short memories. They think our anger is temporary. We have to prove them wrong. We have to make it clear that we don’t accept this quiet, cynical attempt to turn the page. Every time one of these players steps on the ice, the arenas should be filled with boos. Every time a sponsor’s logo appears on the boards, they should hear from us. This isn’t over just because a team in Chicago signed a defenseman to a minor-league deal. This is just the beginning of the next fight. The fight to show these leagues, these out-of-touch executives, and these coddled players that there are some things you can’t just sweep under the rug. Not anymore.
