The meaning of the lyrics of the song "Song about hockey players. Professionals" (Pesnya o hokkeistah. Professionalyi) the performer of the song "Vladimir Vysotsky"

Pros get tons of cash -

They spit blood on the ice, but who cares?

They’re paid big bucks,

Thousands upon thousands,

Even for a loss or a tie.

The player’s sly, let him

Take the hit,

Get kicked in the teeth, though he hasn’t a clue,

And in the end,

He’s the one with broken legs,

Walking with a cane instead of a stick.

For these pros,

These desperate souls,

The game is a lottery - luck is the key.

They play with their partner

Like a bull against a matador,

Though it seems like it should be the other way around.

Your partner lies there

As good as dead,

And to hell with him - let him lie.

Don't mess up, bull,

God wants a goal,

God’s in the stands - He won’t forgive you!

For these pros,

The ref doesn't see a crime

In boxing or a nasty brawl,

And for twenty years

Who could stand up to them?

Like a schoolboy fighting a seasoned gang?

But recently

Their trump card

Is no longer a trump card, but just a trifle,

And their own weapon

Is now used against them

Just as effectively, and even faster.

Let them break each other's noses

In their Montreal,

But their representative

(Go on, ask!)

Was recently patched up with two stripes.

First, he was flattened,

Then plastered…

And their pastor - as luck would have it! -

He knew before the game

They were weak,

They prayed together - it didn’t help.

Pros receive

Through various channels,

Sometimes much, sometimes little - to their bank accounts,

But our boys

For the same salary

Are already five times ahead!

Let them weave intrigues

In their top league,

And let them call it Canadian hockey,

The last word is ours -

Until we meet again!

And as for the football players - until better days…

Профессионалам -

зарплата навалом, -

Плевать, что на лед они зубы плюют.

Им платят деньжищи -

огромные тыщи, -

И даже за проигрыш, и за ничью.

Игрок хитер - пусть

берет на корпус,

Бьет в зуб ногой и - ни в зуб ногой, -

А сам в итоге

калечит ноги -

И вместо клюшки идет с клюкой.

Профессионалам,

отчаянным малым,

Игра - лотерея, - кому повезет.

Играют с партнером -

как бык с матадором, -

Хоть, кажется, принято наоборот.

Как будто мертвый,

лежит партнер твой, -

И ладно, черт с ним - пускай лежит.

Не оплошай, бык,

бог хочет шайбы,

Бог на трибуне - он не простит!

Профессионалам

судья криминалом

Ни бокс не считает, ни злой мордобой, -

И с ними лет двадцать

кто мог потягаться -

Как школьнику драться с отборной шпаной?

Но вот недавно

их козырь главный -

Уже не козырь, а так- пустяк, -

И их оружьем

теперь не хуже

Их бьют, к тому же - на скоростях.

в своем Монреале

Пускай разбивают друг другу носы, -

Но их представитель

(хотите - спросите!)

Недавно заклеен был в две полосы.

Сперва распластан,

а после - пластырь...

А ихний пастор - ну как назло! -

Он перед боем

знал, что слабо им, -

Молились строем - не помогло.

Профессионалам

по разным каналам -

То много, то мало - на банковский счет, -

А наши ребята

за ту же зарплату

Уже пятикратно уходят вперед!

Пусть в высшей лиге

плетут интриги

И пусть канадским зовут хоккей -

За нами слово, -

до встречи снова!

А футболисты - до лучших дней...

In Vladimir Vysotsky's song "Professionals," the author, with his characteristic irony and sarcasm, criticizes professional hockey, contrasting it with amateur Soviet sports.

Vysotsky ridicules the venality of professional athletes, for whom money comes first ("huge salaries," "they are paid a lot of money") rather than sportsmanship and team honor. He shows the roughness and brutality of professional hockey ("kicks in the teeth," "like a bull with a matador"), where injuries are commonplace. The author ironically says that the referees turn a blind eye to violations of the rules, considering them the norm for professional sports.

Further, Vysotsky touches upon the theme of confrontation between the Soviet and Canadian hockey schools. He mentions the recent defeat of the Canadians ("their main trump card is no longer a trump card"), emphasizing that Soviet athletes are not inferior in skill to professionals, despite not being paid huge sums of money.

In the finale of the song, the author expresses confidence in the future victories of Soviet athletes ("and our guys are already five times ahead for the same salary"). He argues that true skill and the will to win mean more than money and professionalism.