Chapter Text
CRAVE ORIGINAL DOCUMENTARY SERIES
THE GAME CHANGERS
VOICE OVER: Previously on The Game Changers…
A montage rolls.
Slow-motion footage of Scott Hunter pulling Kip Grady onto the ice, Kip has Scotts arms in a vice grip and is visibly emotional, talking to Scott [SOUND NOT INCLUDED] Scott laughs before leaning in and kissing him. The camera slowly zooms out, catching the crowd exploding as they process what they’re seeing on the ice.
Cut to footage of the 2017 NHL awards, where Scott Hunter wins the Hart Memorial Trophy. The camera zooms in on Scott lifting the trophy into the air, tears streaming down his face. Excerpts of his speech is playing over the top.
SCOTT HUNTER: In case you missed it somehow, I came out in as gay in a ridiculously public way.
More clips from episode one flicker across the screen – Scott adjusting the microphone attached to his collar awkwardly, the interviewer laughing with Kip, who is laughing so hard he’s bent over. Scott rubbing circles on Kip’s shoulder as he emotionally tells the interviewer how he felt as Scott pulled him out onto the ice.
KIP GRADY: It’s so stupid, but for a moment I didn’t actually realize he was gesturing to me. That he wanted me to come to him…
Rodger Crowell adamantly denying that he had ever suggested it would be better if Scott Hunter had never come out.
RODGER CROWELL: The NHL is proud to be a diverse league. We have worked hard to be inclusive, but sometimes hockey just has to be hockey.
Cut to Scott Hunter, who scoffs -
SCOTT HUNTER: That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard. Did he really say that? Really?
Cut to black.
A title card fades in:
CRAVE ORIGINAL PRESENTS… EPISODE TWO
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SHANE HOLLANDER & ILYA ROZANOV
Archival footage of the Junior Hockey World Championships in 2008 begins to play.
Ilya Rozanov, seventeen, smirks at the camera like he owns the world as he skates onto the ice. The crowd audibly boos around him. Ilya is undisturbed, and in fact, seems to revel in the taunting – like he knows that despite this not being home ice, and despite the crowd all rooting for a different team, he will still walk away with the gold medal.
Cut to archived interview -
ILYA ROZANOV [accent thick]: Will be good, yes? I am great player; Russia is great team. Hard to beat.
Cut to - Shane Hollander, also seventeen, he looks serious and sharp-eyed as he adjusts his gloves at center ice. His eyes track Ilya has he skates towards him, never once looking away. He’s ready for the puck to drop, and he knows he will win the face off.
Cut to archived interview [2]
SHANE HOLLANDER: Look, I’m just here to play hockey and represent my country. I’m incredibly proud to be here, proud of the team. We’ve worked hard and, you know, I think we’re gonna play a great game tonight.
Cut to present day -
ILYA ROZANOV and SHANE HOLLANDER sit side by side in a minimalist interview studio. Their wedding bands are visible, and their knees are touching where they’re pressed against each other in a two-seater loveseat.
The interviewer - a well-known female national sports reporter for CBC - sits offscreen. She narrates the story but is never on camera.
INTERVIEWER: Episode one of The Game Changers was meant to be a standalone project, a two-hour documentary special for Crave Original. We set out to tell the story of the first openly queer NHL player, to share that journey with the world.
A brief clip flashes of Scott’s season, his press conference after his Stanley cup win. His face lighting up as Kip enters from the back door, he extends a hand and it never falters as Kip weaves through the room towards him.
SCOTT: Sorry, last question folks [he winks at the camera], I have a hot date.
Cut back to interview –
INTERVIEWER (CONT'D): We wanted, in conjunction with Scott and Kip, to share that journey with the world. Because it wasn’t an easy one.
There is a brief pause before the interviewer continues. Ilya, back on camera, fidgets with his ring, trying (and failing) to not look bored. Shane’s stare is intense, gaze locked just behind the camera, at the hidden interviewer who is narrating the section.
INTERVIEWER (CONT'D): Hockey has always been defined by a certain kind of masculinity.
Clips roll from the most recent season, a brutal hit between two Montreal players and one Boston player who crumples after impact. His team form a barrier around him as he struggles to lift himself up, but it’s not enough. The Boston player is taken off the ice on a stretcher.
It cuts to a fight between a Detroit player and a player from Toronto. The footage is hazy, like it has been captured in a rush, gloves hit the ice and both teams follow suit.
The footage cuts again to a locker room celebration, it’s loud, physical and intense. There is a wide-eyed rookie in the background, his eyes meet the camera briefly before flickering away, the audience is given the impression that he is overwhelmed by what is happening around him. He can’t be older than nineteen.
Dubbed over the montage, the interviewer continues her monologue.
INTERVIEWER (VOICEOVER): Hockey is a sport built on toughness. On endurance. But that culture can also create barriers.
The screen flashes with old headlines and social media posts of notable players such as Dallas Kent, the content is alarming and disturbing and all too normal. It’s homophobic and sexist and the likes keep racking up.
INTERVIEWER (CONT'D): For decades, the unspoken rule in professional hockey was simple: don’t be different.
Another pause.
INTERVIEWER: That silence allowed certain attitudes to survive in locker rooms, in fan culture, and sometimes even within the league itself.
When we began this project, we believed that telling Scott’s story – Bringing it into the public realm and propelling it into the mainstream - might help shift those conversations.
A new montage begins to play: Scott speaking with young players at the Irina Foundation Hockey Camps, fans holding pride flags in the stands, teammates celebrating a goal – their sticks all wrapped with pride tape.
INTERVIEWER (CONT'D): We hoped it might encourage people within the sport to confront the realities that many players had been quietly living with for years.
But what we didn’t know at the time of producing that documentary…
A slow transition begins - clips of Shane and Ilya start appearing among the footage, hovering in the background of so much of Scott’s story.
INTERVIEWER (CONT'D): …was that Scott’s story was only the beginning.
Ilya flashes a bright smile as the Camera returns to them.
ILYA: Is also not the most interesting one.
Shane gives Ilya a shove and a stern look. Ilya has the decency to look apologetic but doesn’t say anything further.
INTERVIEWER [laughing]: I think that depends on who you ask Rozanov, but even then… you two… your story is… Well, inspirational. Just as much as Scott’s. And at the time, it wasn’t lived in the open. It wasn’t documented.
She pauses, choosing her words carefully.
INTERVIEWER (CONT'D): It was hidden. Carefully guarded. A story that existed in the shadows of the league for years.
The camera zooms in on Ilya and Shane’s hands. They are resting close together on their respective knees but are not quite touching. Ilya’s pinky twitches, like he wants to reach out and hold Shane’s hand, but he doesn’t.
INTERVIEWER (CONT'D): This show was supposed to be a one-off, one and done. That was the plan.
Shane smiles faintly.
INTERVIEWER (CONT'D): But then your team reached out. Not to star in it, but to ask about producing.
Ilya smirks slightly. Shane looks mildly embarrassed.
ILYA: Yes, was good show – even if it was about Hunter.
Shane elbows Ilya again, harder. Ilya rubs his side, frowning at Shane.
SHANE: What Ilya is trying to say, is we found it incredibly inspirational. Finally, conversations were happening about the culture in hockey, about the kinds of things the league is promoting by being silent.
And it meant a lot that people like Hunter were speaking up, sharing their experience, and you know – when I was a kid, there weren’t many people like me playing the sport – gay, half Japanese – and I just thought what it would have been like, if something like this existed when I was coming up. So yeah… I was really keen to be involved, to help share more of these stories.
So, we reached out.
Shane awkwardly rubs to back of his head, blushing at his own words. Ilya looks at him with big eyes, they’re warm and full of love. Finally, Ilya lifts his hand and squeezes Shane’s once, just briefly.
ILYA: Yes, is important, I think.
INTERVIEWER: And I have to say, I don’t think I’ve ever seen our executive team so excited then when our director got off the call with you both. Except for one detail.
A beat.
INTERVIEWER (CONT'D): The only story we wanted to tell next… was yours.
Shane nods, still blushing.
INTERVIEWER: Why did you want to be producers? Why not reach out originally to share your own story?
Shane exhales slowly.
SHANE: Honestly? We know nothing about television.
A quiet laugh from Ilya.
SHANE (CONT'D): But we watched Scott’s season. We saw how important it was, not just that his story was told, but that he got to tell it.
He leans forward slightly, more serious now.
SHANE (CONT'D): It wasn’t filtered or rewritten. It was his. Entirely. And that mattered to us.
A beat.
SHANE (CONT'D): We didn’t reach out because we thought we should be on camera. We reached out because we understood how powerful that platform could be.
INTERVIEWER: So how did you feel when we said… we only wanted to do this if we could tell your story
Shane laughs under his breath, shaking his head.
SHANE: Hesitant.
He doesn’t sugarcoat it.
SHANE (CONT'D): I’ve always been a private person. Even on the ice - I kept things close. Off the ice? Even more so.
He glances sideways at Ilya briefly.
SHANE (CONT'D): This wasn’t just my story. It was ours. And it isn’t small – it’s defined so much of our lives and… well, I wasn’t sure people would want to hear our story… not like they wanted to hear Scott’s.
Shane shifts uncomfortably in his seat as silence stretches. He looks just past the camera at where the interviewer is positioned off screen. Whilst the audience can’t see anything, it’s obvious that the interviewer must have made a gesture for Shane to continue, because he begins to speak again.
SHANE: Scott’s story was important, is important. It meant a lot to people- it meant a lot to us. It’s opened doors that I never thought would be possible.
A beat.
SHANE (CONT'D): But… me and Ilya… we’re different. We’re harder to stomach, I think.
Clips from old games flicker across the screen, all of them with Shane and Ilya on opposite sides of the ice. They show brutal hits and tense face-offs as the crowd roars around them. In one scene they’re yelling at each other, their faces inches apart. Eventually their teams come in to drag them away, but no before the ref flashes a card, and they’re both sent to the penalty box. Ilya skates over like a king, but Shane is sullen.
SHANE (CONT'D): Our rivalry was… intense. Fans were really invested in it; entire cities were invested in it.
The screen flashes with old sports headlines and article clippings: “Bad Blood Continues.” “The League’s Fiercest Rivalry.”
The camera cuts to the crowd streaming into the hockey rink in Montreal, it’s a sold-out night and some die-hard fans are burning cutouts of Ilya Rozanov on the tarmac out the front. Security watch on, and no one moves to stop it.
SHANE: And when everything came out… I guess some of the same people who backed in Scott didn’t uh... well… they didn’t respond the same way to us.
His voice stays calm, but the weight of it is there.
SHANE (CONT'D): Honestly, I started to think maybe the world just…isn’t ready to stomach us yet…
Shane trails off, looking helplessly at Ilya, as if asking him to say the things he can’t. Ilya shifts in his seat, arms loosely folded.
ILYA: Scott is easy to love.
He says it matter-of-factly.
ILYA (CONT'D): He’s what you call…a true American? Maybe. He’s a fierce hockey player and has been Captain of the USA team many times. But he’s also –
Shane cuts in –
SHANE: He’s got the boy next door thing going for him –
Ilya clicks his fingers and nods in furious agreement.
ILYA: Yes! Exactly! He is kind of guy you want your daughter to marry.
He gestures lightly toward himself.
ILYA (CONT'D): I am not like that.
A faint smirk crosses Ilya’s face, it’s cocky – the kind of look Ilya Rozanov is famous for.
ILYA (CONT'D): I’m abrasive, I’m loud. I’m mean. And I’m Russian… half the time the media already thinks I’m the villain before anything has happened.
He shrugs slightly.
ILYA: And I lean into that. I become it - but I think maybe that has made it harder for people. Because they have only seen that version of me, and it’s hard to see both sometimes.
Ilya glances at Shane.
ILYA (CONT'D): And Shane…
A small smile appears.
ILYA (CONT'D): Shane is Canada’s sweetheart.
Shane laughs quietly under his breath.
ILYA (CONT'D): But he is still not white.
The room grows still.
A brief montage plays starting with social media posts commenting on players looks, focusing specifically on players who are not white. The language is uncomfortable, unpleasant. Then, headlines criticizing Shane specially for losing games, blaming him for marginal losses, and not once do they mention that hockey is a team sport. Finally, fans yelling from the stands, racist slurs getting thrown around, as players skate out onto the ice.
ILYA: People like to pretend that it doesn’t matter in hockey.
He shakes his head.
ILYA (CONT'D): But it does.
Shane nods slightly, confirming it without needing to elaborate further.
ILYA (CONT'D): So, when you put it together…
He gestures between them, he smiles a small ironic smile, and it’s more bitter than anything else.
ILYA (CONT'D): That is not the fairytale version people are used to.
INTERVIEWER: And yet you still agreed to tell the story.
Shane looks at Ilya again before answering.
SHANE: Yes. We did. I know it sounds dumb maybe, but despite all of that – despite every reason we shouldn’t say anything – I just… I love him. I’ve loved him for a very long time, and I guess I just want… I don’t know… I want to be able to share that.
Ilya shifts slightly in his seat, as if he’s been waiting for his turn.
ILYA: For a long time… this was something I kept locked in my chest.
His hand presses lightly against his sternum as he says it.
ILYA (CONT'D): I could not talk about Shane. Not to teammates. Not to media. Not even to friends sometimes.
His voice remains steady, but there’s an undercurrent of something older - fatigue, maybe. Or relief.
ILYA (CONT'D): I lived in fear of being found out.
A pause.
ILYA (CONT'D): And then when we were found out… it did not suddenly become easy.
Shane nods faintly.
ILYA (CONT'D): We still had careers. We still had teams. We wanted to keep playing. We wanted to keep winning.
His competitive spark flickers briefly.
ILYA (CONT'D): We wanted to be professionals.
He shrugs slightly.
ILYA (CONT'D): So even then, there were things we did not say. Things we did not explain, not to anyone. We kept it controlled, kept it between us.
INTERVIEWER: And now?
Ilya’s expression changes. It brightens, not theatrically, but genuinely. It’s like a cloud clears away, and for a moment he looks radiant.
ILYA: Now we are retired.
A small smile.
ILYA (CONT'D): We watched Scott’s story and realized something.
He glances at Shane.
ILYA (CONT'D): We could have been both.
The words land clearly.
ILYA (CONT'D): We could have been open. And still competitive. Still respected. Still champions.
He exhales, almost laughing at the simplicity of it now.
ILYA (CONT'D): But we did not know that then.
Silence settles for a moment.
ILYA (CONT'D): So it feels important… to tell it all. Not just the hockey, and the post-game media and the headlines. I want to talk about us. As it happened.
His voice softens slightly.
ILYA (CONT'D): I want to tell the truth, and I want others to be able to tell their truths too.
A beat.
ILYA (CONT'D): I lived in fear for a very long time.
He says it plainly. No dramatics.
ILYA (CONT'D): Fear of losing hockey. Fear of losing respect. Fear of losing him.
His hand finally shifts, resting fully over Shane’s.
ILYA (CONT'D) And now… I get to live in the open.
There’s a spark in his eyes - not defiance, but excitement.
ILYA (CONT'D): I am very excited about that.
CUT TO BLACK
The screen fades in softly, not to roaring arenas or draft-day flashes, but to a quiet living room in Ottawa.
Framed photographs line the walls - minor hockey teams, school graduations, a much younger Shane grinning gap-toothed with a plastic stick in hand.
The interviewer sits across from YUNA and DAVID HOLLANDER, who are perched side by side on a well-worn couch. They are comfortable here, in their home.
Underneath them a title card appears:
Yuna and David Hollander
Shane’s parents
Management team for Shane Hollander (2008 – Current).
Director and Treasurer of the Irina Foundation (2018 – current).
INTERVIEWER: What was Shane like growing up?
Yuna laughs immediately - not politely, but knowingly.
YUNA: That’s easy, he was absolutely hockey obsessed.
David nudges her in the ribs, and it’s achingly similar to Shane nudging Ilya in the ribs, reminding him to behave.
DAVID: He’s always taken after Yuna like that, I guess.
Yuna swats him away lightly, but she’s smiling.
YUNA: Please. He’s much worse than me.
She settles back, eyes softening. David rubs a slow hand over her shoulder, easing out any tension.
YUNA (CONT'D): The first time I took him out on the ice, he was four.
Archival footage plays – it’s a grainy home video of a tiny Shane in oversized pads, wobbling dramatically across a public rink.
He falls.
Gets up.
Falls again.
Off screen Yuna cheers him on, and even though he struggles to stay upright, he still makes his way towards her.
YUNA [Laughing]: You wouldn’t know it now… but he did not take to it straight away.
David chuckles, and the camera pans to the left. It reveals a small screen playing the footage live, David’s eyes are warm as he watches baby Shane struggle to skate across the ice.
It’s the first time it’s made clear that the footage cut into the documentary is also being played during the interviews. While this moment is warm and soft, it leaves the audience to wonder how Shane and Ilya must have felt, seeing the negative content – the headlines, social media post, players reactions - about them again. It leaves an uncomfortable knot in the stomach, and perhaps that’s its purpose by design, or perhaps not.
YUNA: He was so unsteady [laughs again]. He kept gripping the boards like they were going to float away.
On screen, little Shane clings to the edge, stubborn expression on his face.
YUNA (CONT'D): But he refused to quit.
Her tone shifts, pride creeping in.
YUNA (CONT'D): That’s what people don’t always see. It wasn’t natural talent at first. It was work.
She glances at David.
YUNA (CONT'D): He was always the first on the ice, the last off it. He would stay after practice to try and watch the older kids train. He would ask a million questions, just constantly wanting to know more.
A pause.
YUNA (CONT'D): I’ve always been the proudest of his dedication. Above anything else.
The room feels warm, and safe – like a hug from a parent before you go to sleep at night. The interviewer lets the moment breathe before shifting gently.
INTERVIEWER: When did you first hear the name Rozanov?
Yuna exhales through her nose. A small, amused shake of her head.
YUNA: Junior Hockey World Championships.
Archival footage rolls of teenage Shane in red and white standing with his team off ice, he’s chewing at his mouth guard as Yuna bats at him to cut it out. A younger Ilya in Russian colors, skates past them both, his jaw is set and eyes locked on the puck front of him.
INTERVIEWER: And what did you think of him?
Yuna doesn’t hesitate.
YUNA: Cocky. Obnoxious
David chuckles.
DAVID: She’s lying, she said much worse things.
Yuna visibly rolls her eyes.
YUNA: He was too brazen. All bark, no bite. Hockey is a team sport, and he just dominated. You can’t win like that. You have to let your team breathe, you have to give them space to do their job, so you can do yours…
On screen, Ilya scores. His team celebrates hard, launching themselves at him. Despite Yuna’s depiction of Ilya’s leadership, it’s clear the team look up to him, listen to him. Ilya points to the crest on his jersey, the C emblazoned above his chest.
Cut to scoreboard: Russia wins.
YUNA: I was shocked when Russia won.
She shakes her head slowly.
YUNA (CONT'D): It was a learning moment. For me and for Shane.
The footage shows teenage Shane staring across the ice at Ilya during medal ceremony. His gaze is intense, for a brief moment, Ilya meets it.
YUNA: Never take hockey for granted. And never underestimate Rozanov again.
A beat. Her smile softens.
YUNA (CONT'D): If only I could have seen all this coming.
David glances at her knowingly but says nothing. He grabs her hand, squeezes it twice in two quick pumps.
DAVID: I don’t think anyone saw it coming but… I’m glad, to have Ilya in our lives now. He makes Shane very, very happy – and that’s all that a parent can ever hope for, right? That their children are happy.
Yuna nods in agreement.
YUNA: Yes [almost whispering] It’s everything we could have hoped for.
Ilya snorts from where he stands in the kitchen, staring over the breakfast bar at the television. Shane twists his neck around to watch him. The room is dim, a lamp lighting up the corner – Ilya had switched the overhead lights off on his way to the kitchen, and Shane is grateful.
“Your parents like me better.” Ilya says.
Without thinking, Shane reaches for the pillow next to him and sends it sailing across the room. It hits Ilya square in the shoulder, landing with a thud on the tiled kitchen floor.
“Fuck off,” Shane says automatically.
Ilya laughs, picking the pillow up and sending it back, although this time without the intention to harm.
“Violence. See? This is why they prefer me.”
Shane reaches for it again but Ilya doges behind the open door of a kitchen cabinet, using it as a shield from Shane’s wrath.
“Careful,” Ilya says, peeking out from behind the door with a grin. “Or I will not bring you back snack.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“I’m beloved,” Ilya corrects.
Shane turns back around and watches a 12-year-old version of himself skate around the ice. It’s a goofy moment, caught on an old camera. He’s not sure if this was taken at hockey training, or the brief phase where he thought he might get into figure skating instead.
Shane hears the fridge open.
And there’s a warmth settling quietly in his chest, spreading down into the tips of his fingers and the depths of his stomach. It’s pleasant, hearing his parents talk about Ilya like that.
It still surprises him sometimes, that there are people out there that love Ilya as much as he does – not because Ilya is unlovable, but because Shane’s love is so vast and so deep, filling entire oceans with adoration– and there are people out there who feel the same.
His parents feel the same.
From the kitchen, Ilya calls, “Do you want a drink?”
“Can you grab me a ginger ale?” Shane calls back.
“Of course, moya lyubov.”
Shane rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling, because of course he is – because he gets to spend this evening on this couch, in their home – watching himself finally tell the world how much love he has for Ilya Rozanov.
He never thought he could have this, never thought it was possible… but it is, and Shane feels like he’s glowing.
A moment later Ilya comes back, tossing the cold can across the couch. Shane catches it easily and cracks it open.
Ilya drops back down beside him with his own drink, stretching his legs out and rests his feet in Shane’s lap. Shane’s free hand automatically wraps around it, kneads into the sensitive tendon at the base of Ilya’s foot, the one he knows gives him trouble in the morning.
He glances sideways at Ilya for a second.
And watching his parents talk about him like that… knowing how much they love him now…It still means more to Shane than Ilya probably will ever know. Does it mean that much to Ilya? Does it fill him with the same warmth and familiarity?
Does it feel like a tethering to him too? A string connecting them across time and space and every universe inbetween?
Ilya notices Shane watching him, “what?” he asks.
Shane shakes his head and takes a sip.
“Nothing.”
Ilya squints suspiciously at him.
Suddenly the documentary on screen cuts back to the medal ceremony again, and Shane groans.
“Oh my god, they’re showing it again.”
Ilya leans forward, delighted.
“Yes. Good. Replay my victory.”
The setting changes completely to a minimalist Boston apartment. It’s all clean lines, dark furniture and stark lighting. The sky outside is gloomy, a storm is brewing and the wind whips leaves against the window.
The screen cuts to SVETLANA VETROVA, the screen card sits in the bottom left-hand corner:
Svetlana Vetrova
Childhood friend
Promoter - Boston Raiders (2021 – current)
Svetlana sits upright in the middle of the room; her posture is composed and elegant and she dominates the frame with her presence – she is icy beneath the harsh lights, and the audience can feel it. It seeps through the screen.
INTERVIEWER: What was Ilya like as a child?
Svetlana tilts her head slightly, taking a second to mull the question over.
SVETLANA: He was strong.
Her accent is light, but distinctly Russian. She pauses before continuing.
SVETLANA (CONT'D): Very determined.
The interviewer waits for more.
It doesn’t come
And it’s evident that Svetlana has prepared for the interview, and that every word is deliberate. She gives nothing away.
INTERVIEWER: Was he competitive?
Svetlana smiles faintly, a quirk of the lips that is almost gone before it even appears.
SVETLANA: All good Russian boys are competitive.
It’s both an answer and not one at all.
She is careful in her words, and clearly protective of Ilya. It makes the audience wonder why she agreed to speak in the first place.
INTERVIEWER: Did he always want to play hockey?
Svetlana tilts her head slightly, considering the question The clears her throat slightly, sensing the wall she’s up against.
SVETLANA: Not at first, but then… yes. And suddenly all he wanted to do was play hockey. He lived it, breathed it.
Svetlana folds her hands neatly in her lap.
SVETLANA (CONT’D): Hockey was always there. In Russia, boys play, they skate, they fight. It is normal.
INTERVIEWER: But Ilya wasn’t normal.
Another pause. This one even longer. Svetlana studies the interviewer offscreen very carefully, as if weighing how much she can safely give away. She purses her lips, and makes a decision.
SVETLANA: No. He was not.
INTERVIEWER: In what way?
Svetlana’s eyes soften just slightly.
SVETLANA: He did not like losing.
INTERVIEWER: Most athletes don’t.
SVETLANA: No.
She shakes her head gently.
SVETLANA: For him it was… different.
INTERVIEWER: Different how?
Svetlana exhales slowly, choosing her words.
SVETLANA: When he lost, it was like the world had made a mistake.
The interviewer pauses, it feels like the room has taken a deep breath, too afraid to exhale and Svetlana will stop.
SVETLANA (CONT’D): He did not believe he should lose. Not because he was arrogant.
A small shrug.
SVETLANA (CONT’D): But because he believed he could always work harder.
INTERVIEWER: So if he lost-
SVETLANA: Then he had not worked enough.
A beat.
INTERVIEWER: Did that make him difficult as a kid?
That faint smile again.
SVETLANA: Very.
A beat.
SVETLANA (CONT’D): Ilya was… stubborn, is stubborn. The most stubborn person I know. If he decided something was his, it was his. No one could tell him otherwise.
INTERVIEWER: And can you tell me, when you realized that hockey might mean more to Ilya. When did it become something serious?
Svetlana exhales softly through her nose -
SVETLANA: When he was thirteen, he broke his arm.
INTERVIEWER: Playing?
SVETLANA: No. Climbing a fence.
Another tiny smile.
SVETLANA (CONT’D): Doctor said six weeks, no skating.
A beat.
SVETLANA: Three days later, coach called my mum. Ilya’s dad didn’t pick up the phone; he needed someone to come to the rink. Said there was a small boy on the bench, wearing a cast, refusing to go home.
INTERVIEWER: That was Ilya?
Svetlana nods once, a small smile on her face.
SVETLANA: He told the coach he could still yell at the other players.
There is a small ripple of laughter from the crew behind the camera. It’s warming to hear a story like this, because there are so few of them on the public record. Ilya has always been incredibly tightlipped about his childhood, and there are very few family or friends who have spoken about him publicly to the press. For many, it’s like Ilya had appeared out of nowhere on draft day in 2009. This moment humanizes him.
INTERVIEWER: You describe him like you know him very well.
Svetlana’s gaze sharpens just slightly.
SVETLANA: I do.
A beat.
INTERVIEWER: Were you close when he was growing up?
Svetlana doesn’t hesitate this time.
SVETLANA: Yes.
The interviewer waits and again, nothing more comes.
INTERVIEWER: You’ve said previously that he was your best friend.
Svetlana’s eyes flick briefly toward the camera – suddenly achingly aware of the audience watching.
SVETLANA: He was.
INTERVIEWER: Past tense?
And for the first time, Svetlana’s composure cracks, it’s not much, maybe just a hairline fracture, but it’s enough. Her fingers tighten together in her lap.
SVETLANA: Children grow up.
Another beat.
INTERVIEWER: Do you still talk?
Svetlana smooths an invisible wrinkle in her sleeve.
SVETLANA: Sometimes.
INTERVIEWER: Do you watch his games?
Now the smile comes back - small, but real.
SVETLANA: Of course.
INTERVIEWER: Every one?
SVETLANA: Yes.
The camera zooms away from Svetlana, capturing more and more of the room around her. Whilst it’s still sleek, with black furniture and industrial fittings, more personal touches begin to appear -
Photos hung up on the wall, the camera pauses on one in particular - a gapped tooth Svetlana curled into the side of a scrawny boy easily identifiable as Ilya Rozanov - books stacked up on the coffee table, tattered and dogged eared. And on the couch is a very old stuffed rabbit, its left ear at risk of falling off.
Eventually, the screen transitions to black, White text fades in:
Crave Original reached out to Ilya Rozanov regarding inviting members of his family to participate in this series.
We were advised that the Hollanders are all the family Ilya has.
The words linger.
Then fade.
The camera returns to the couch in the studio room, Ilya and Shane are sitting side by side once again, except this time Ilya is more relaxed, he toys with a strand of Shane’s hair, tugging on it gently to get his attention. Shane looks at him briefly and grins.
The mood is lighter now, but something deeper hums beneath it.
INTERVIEWER: Okay. Take me back to the beginning. We know about the hockey, how it all plays out on the ice… but what about you? Where did you start.
A beat.
INTERVIEWER (CONT'D): I know you first played against each other in 2008 at the Junior Hockey World Championships, what was it like? To finally meet each other.
Ilya leans back slightly, arm resting along the back of the couch behind Shane. A slow smile spreads across his face.
ILYA: Yes.
He glances sideways at Shane.
ILYA (CONT'D): I guess that is the beginning.
Shane huffs softly.
SHANE: You mean the part where you blanked me?
ILYA: You looked so annoyed.
SHANE: I was annoyed.
ILYA: Yes.
A flash of that competitive grin.
ILYA (CONT'D): You still are.
Shane rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.
The camera slowly pulls back as archival footage from 2008 begins to play - two young players circling each other on international ice. Fast. Fierce. Unaware of everything that would follow.
The living room is dim except for the light from the TV, the documentary filling the space with the familiar rhythm of edited interviews and archival footage. Shane is stretched along one side of the couch, socked feet hooked under Ilya’s thigh. Ilya is slouched beside him, remote in one hand, a bowl of something they’ve both been absent-mindedly eating balanced on his stomach.
On screen, a younger version of them flashes past - grainy footage from the Junior Hockey World Championships plays with fast techno music dubbed over the top, it drives the fast-paced footage – emphasizes the tension as they face off on the ice for the first time.
The narrator is explaining it now. Their first tournament together. The first time they were on the same ice.
The interview cuts to Shane, filmed months earlier during production.
“I remember meeting him for the first time,” Shane says on the screen. “Well- meeting is maybe generous.”
The footage cuts to Ilya next to him, he smiles lazily at Shane. “I remember this,” on-screen Ilya says. “You were being boring Canadian, making me smoke away from building-”
On the couch, real-life Ilya hits pause – the screen freezing on his own face. Shane turns his head slowly, starting at Ilya in disbelief.
“Oh, you got to be fucking kidding me, Rozanov.”
Ilya is already pushing himself off the couch.
“Sorry!”
“You paused the documentary, not even twenty minutes in, to go pee? I told you to pee before we started.”
“Yes I know,” Ilya says defensively, heading toward the hallway. “But I did not have to pee then.”
Shane throws his head back against the couch.
“This is so fucking dumb, we’re barely twenty minutes in! We still have two hours to go!”
From the hallway, Ilya calls back, “That’s why I go now! Before it gets good!”
Shane laughs under his breath, eyes drifting back to the frozen frame of Ilya mid-interview on the TV.
“You’re unbelievable,” he mutters, and maybe it’s directed at the Ilya running towards the bathroom – or maybe the Ilya on the tv.
Or every version of him in-between.