Author: Aaron Gott
The 2026 Stanley Cup Playoffs are underway. For an antitrust lawyer and hockey fan, it is a fitting moment to take stock of professional hockey’s rich antitrust history.
Professional sports leagues create unusual market dynamics. Their products are produced jointly by competitors—teams that need each other to put on games, sell tickets, and negotiate broadcast deals—but those same competitors must hold themselves apart enough to compete for talent, fans, and championships. That tension between cooperation and competition is a recipe for antitrust scrutiny, and hockey has produced some instructive case law in the field. The lessons are not just for sports lawyers; the same dynamics increasingly play out in technology platforms, healthcare networks, and other ecosystems where rivals must coordinate to deliver a product.
Below is a tour of professional hockey’s antitrust story, from the reserve clause to the modern lockout, with stops along the way at relocation fights, the single-entity defense, and the league’s nine-figure expansion fees.
Player Mobility and the Reserve Clause
For most of the twentieth century, professional hockey players could not freely move between teams. The reserve clause, written into nearly every standard player contract, gave the team perpetual rights to renew the contract on its own terms. The practical effect was that NHL teams collectively suppressed labor competition: a player drafted by Toronto stayed in Toronto unless Toronto chose to trade him, and the league’s structure ensured no other employer could compete for his services.
That arrangement looked exactly like what it was—an agreement among competitors to control the labor market. When the World Hockey Association launched in 1972 and began signing NHL players, federal courts examined the reserve clause and found Sherman Act problems. The leading decision is Philadelphia World Hockey Club, Inc. v. Philadelphia Hockey Club, Inc., in which the Eastern District of Pennsylvania issued a preliminary injunction against the NHL’s enforcement of the reserve clause and held that the league’s restrictive practices likely violated the antitrust laws.
Labor markets are markets, and agreements among horizontal competitors to suppress wages or restrict labor mobility receive scrutiny under the Sherman Act. The Justice Department and the FTC have in recent years returned to that principle in the form of no-poach and wage-fixing prosecutions across industries, from fast food to nursing to engineering. Hockey just got there first.
Rival Leagues and Group Boycotts: The NHL v. WHA
The reserve clause was only one piece of the NHL’s response to the WHA. The league also coordinated with arena operators to restrict the WHA’s access to facilities, leaned on broadcasters and equipment suppliers, and otherwise marshaled the resources of incumbents against an entrant.
That is classic group boycott territory. When dominant firms join forces to deny a rival the inputs it needs to compete—facilities, supplies, distribution—the conduct sits at the heart of Section 1 concern. The legal pressure on the NHL, combined with the WHA’s financial difficulties, ultimately produced a partial merger: four WHA teams (the Edmonton Oilers, Hartford Whalers, Quebec Nordiques, and Winnipeg Jets) joined the NHL in 1979, and the rival league dissolved.
The pattern repeats in technology, healthcare, finance, and transportation. Dominant platforms do not just compete with entrants; they shape the rules of competition, and they often do so collectively with other incumbents who depend on those rules. Hockey just happens to have litigated it earlier (and on skates!).
Drafts, Salary Caps, and the Non-Statutory Labor Exemption
Sports drafts and salary caps look like textbook Sherman Act problems. A draft is an agreement among competitors not to compete for entry-level talent. A salary cap is an agreement among competitors to fix the price of labor. In any other industry, both would be candidates for per se antitrust condemnation.
In professional sports, they usually survive because of the non-statutory labor exemption, a judicially crafted doctrine that immunizes certain restraints adopted through collective bargaining. The Court’s decision in Brown v. Pro Football, Inc. set out the contours: a restraint is exempt if it concerns a mandatory subject of bargaining, primarily affects the parties to the collective bargaining relationship, and is reached through bona fide arm’s-length bargaining.
Hockey has worn the exemption well. Drafts, entry-level contract restrictions, restricted free agency, and the salary cap all flow from collectively bargained agreements between the NHL and the National Hockey League Players’ Association. They have not been seriously vulnerable to antitrust challenge so long as the bargaining relationship holds.
The takeaway is not that drafts and salary caps are competitively benign. It is that how a restraint is adopted can matter as much as what the restraint does. That distinction has implications well beyond sports—particularly in industries where standard-setting bodies, joint ventures, and trade associations make rules that look a great deal like restraints on competition.
Territories, Relocation, and Market Allocation
NHL teams do not move freely. League rules grant existing teams territorial rights and condition relocation and expansion on supermajority votes of the other owners. The result is a system in which incumbents collectively decide who can enter their markets and on what terms.
Geographic market allocation among horizontal competitors is normally per se illegal under Section 1. Yet the NHL has largely avoided antitrust liability in this area. Part of the explanation is doctrinal: courts have moved away from the per se rule for sports league rules, applying the rule of reason instead in light of the joint-venture features of professional sports. Part of it is pragmatic. The NHL has historically resolved territorial disputes through indemnity payments rather than through litigation. When the Disney-owned Mighty Ducks of Anaheim entered the league in 1993, Disney was required to make a substantial payment to the Los Angeles Kings, whose territorial rights covered the Anaheim market.
The NFL has not been as fortunate. In Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum Commission v. National Football League, the Ninth Circuit affirmed a treble-damages verdict against the NFL for blocking the Oakland Raiders’ relocation to Los Angeles. Applying the rule of reason, the court found that the NFL’s three-quarters approval requirement for franchise relocation was not justified by procompetitive benefits—particularly given that the league had invoked the rule to protect the L.A. Rams, who had themselves moved from Los Angeles to Anaheim.
More recently, the NHL itself flirted with similar trouble. The 2009 bankruptcy of the Phoenix Coyotes produced a high-profile dispute over Jim Balsillie’s bid to buy the team and move it to Hamilton, Ontario. The NHL invoked its relocation rules to block the move, and Balsillie pressed antitrust counterclaims accusing the league of conspiring to allocate the southern Ontario market to the Toronto Maple Leafs and Buffalo Sabres. The bankruptcy court ultimately rejected Balsillie’s bid on other grounds, and as a result the antitrust questions were not resolved. They will likely arise again in the next dispute spurred by the relocation rules.
When they do, courts will likely apply the rule of reason, but even with the special treatment of professional sports, an agreement among competitors to divide the market is dangerous territory.
Lockouts and Concerted Refusals to Deal
The NHL has locked its players out three times since 1994, costing the league a half-season in 1994–95, all of 2004–05, and another half-season in 2012–13. From the players’ side, a lockout looks like a concerted refusal to deal, or group boycott: the team employers, acting through the league, jointly impose terms after a bargaining impasse and jointly refuse to hire players except on those terms.
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