Monday afternoon, 10 former players launched a class action lawsuit against the league claiming it didn’t do enough to protect them from concussions. The lawsuit alleges the NHL is guilty of “historically ignoring the true risks of concussive events, sub-concussive events and/or brain injuries suffered by NHL hockey players” and of “refusing to address the issue of brain injuries despite a growing body of medical opinion establishing such a linkage and their own study of the issue.” And, apparently, “refusing” to change its rules to effectively protect players.

In keeping with the general theme, the lawsuit doesn’t pull any punches – it reads like what it very well likely might be: a cathartic document.

The crux of the argument for the players is essentially this: The league took no “remedial action” to protect its players from unnecessary harm until 1997, when it started its concussion program “ostensibly to research and study brain injuries affecting NHL players.” During the study period from 1997 to 2004, the suit states, the NHL “voluntarily inserted itself into the scientific research and discussion” about the link between player injuries and short- and long-term brain damage. By doing so, the lawsuit argues, the league took on the responsibility to do four things: tell the truth; introduce rules or programs to deal with the problem; not to continue “complacently with the same conduct that nurtured violent head trauma while advancing the NHL’s financial and political interests”; and to tell other players about the risks.

Guess how well the players feel the league followed through on those?

“In short,” the lawsuit says a little bit later, “the NHL chooses to ignore medical findings of its own studies, other sports or the general practice of medicine regarding brain injuries and hockey.” It later says the league took part in “active and purposeful concealment” of the risks of brain injuries.

The 10 names on this list aren’t big ones. It does include former Leafs captain and 878-game veteran Rick Vaive and Gary Leeman (667 games) – along with guys like Darren Banks (20 games) and Brad Aitkin (14 games) – but it’s missing a Lindros or maybe a Kariya. But how much does that really matter? The point has been made and, as it was with a similar suit against the National Football League that eventually carried thousands of plaintiffs (and ended with a $765 million settlement), there’s still lots of time for more hockey players to get on board.

Somewhat unsurprisingly, in a statement on Monday NHL deputy commissioner Bill Daly said the league was “completely satisfied with the responsible manner in which the league and the players’ association have managed player safety over time, including with respect to head injuries and concussions.” And, he said, the league will defend the case. Which means, like with most interventions, despite some of us getting a lot of thoughts off our chests, we’re probably still at the bottom of a long climb to some kind of resolution. For the foreseeable future, this lawsuit will act as a pall over the league and the game in general. That’s a problem for more than just the obvious reasons.

Prior to Monday, when the naysayers naysayed following a particularly brutal hit or fight, at least the league knew that within days it would all die down in the din of a new trade or an amazing goal or the chattering expectation of a big matchup between rivals. Anything, really. The NHL knew this because talk radio and the sports television simply can’t sustain a long-term conversation on one topic, especially when it’s as much of a downer as concussions are. People want, badly, for sports to act as some kind of escape, after all. It can never get too real for too long. Otherwise, it loses its luster, and the hyperbole and hyped drama just seems… silly. And people don’t pay good money for silly when they think they’re buying serious.

Now, however, behind each one of those smaller complaints about a bad hit or particularly ugly fight will be exactly that sustained, long-term conversation, running even stronger than it already has been in the background. The NHL now faces the sports equivalent to the worst kind of political scandal – the kind that hints at corruption at the very heart of government. One in which day to day, you can skate by on obfuscation or delay, but with every new development, no matter how big (in this case, perhaps new names joining the current list), the entirety of the story gets rehashed and, importantly, remembered all over again. That’s the kind of thing that threatens presidents, let alone hockey league commissioners.

But most crucial of all, now more than ever, the NHL will have to tell us all about the end of its long road ahead – about how it sees this all ending. Before we set off in one direction or another, what is the end-point we wish to achieve? When we get there will we still find, for instance, line brawls that go without supplementary punishment? Will we find more Derek Boogaards? And will we have arrived there via incremental changes or only after some kind of massive restructuring? In short: What does the perfect version of the NHL even look like? The reply, should we even get one, will reveal not just what kind of league the NHL wants to be, but what kind of game it wants hockey to be. That is (or should be) a profoundly difficult question to answer, which will hopefully cause a lot of soul-searching at NHL headquarters, if it hasn’t already. And while they’re having a think over on Sixth Avenue, so should the rest of us. It is equally important for everyone else to ponder the same question. What sort of sport do we want to watch? What sort of game do we want to pay good money for? A serious one or a silly one?