Illustration by Alex Siklos
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Blue and pink strobe lights flashed down from the high ceiling as we entered Rumur, a bar on the edge of downtown Calgary. The dance music pounded. Clubgoers moved their hips and feet, balancing their drinks in their hands.
Not much can get this 59-year-old to a club on a Saturday night but throw a Heated Rivalry dance party and I’m first in line. My sister jumped at the chance to go dancing but our daughters, in their 20s, needed more convincing. “How about I pay for the drinks and do the driving?” I said. They were in. The four of us wiggled through the busy crowd and claimed a spot to the right of the video screen and stage.
We were surrounded by people in hockey jerseys mostly with the Calgary Flames logo, like they’d all just come from a game at the Saddledome. But we were here for fictitious hockey players Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander, played by Connor Storrie and Hudson Williams. The Canadian-made TV series follows the characters’ competitive rivalry, eventual attraction and relationship, and it’s become a global phenomenon.
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After watching the full series numerous times and with my Instagram full of Ilya and Shane photos, I realized I was addicted. I was so captivated that I moved onto the audiobooks, which replaced listening to political podcasts and the news. This was a much-needed distraction from the depressing state of the world. Heated Rivalry had come along at just the right time. From the vibe around me and temperature of the club, it looked like many of my fellow Calgarians were obsessed and happily distracted as well.
I proudly wore my black Rozanov T-shirt, his name in bright yellow letters across my chest with his number 81. I was an Ilya girl, the hot Russian hockey player with attitude. Super fans surrounded us with other designs of Rozanov tops as well as blue and white Hollander gear. In a recent interview with CBC, the show’s writer and director Jacob Tierney called his hit a “gay smutty hockey show,” and we were here to seize more of its magic.
As soon as videos of Ilya and Shane popped up, the hollering started. Their handsome faces, shirtless bodies and tender embraces flashed on the screen while Ilya’s sexy accent and Shane’s strong voice could be heard over the music. For two hours, super fans aged 18 to 60 (or Loons as the fans like to call themselves) danced and jumped around.
Music from the soundtrack blared and I was surrounded by happy faces loudly singing along. I was a faithful clubgoer years ago, but this was different — the room was vibrating due to our interconnectedness by our Heated Rivalry obsession.
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My sister and I were probably the oldest “Loons” in the club, and we tried to blend in. Behind us was a group of five young guys, so fresh faced, I was surprised they were allowed in the bar. They were all in black and leather, the one closest to me wearing a studded hat like Freddie Mercury wore, slightly slanted to the right. Drops of sweat dotted his forehead as he moved his feet and hips non-stop. His group yelled over us at the images on the screen and laughed amongst themselves.
I loved the mixed bag of fans and attire in the bar, from the hockey theme, to short shorts and tank tops, fishnet stockings and leather miniskirts, baggy jeans and T-shirts, shag hair styles and mullets and mustaches. Heated Rivalry brings people of all ages, sexes and backgrounds together. No one seemed to care about two almost 60-year-old women dancing in their midst.
Near the end of the evening, I went to the second floor of the club to look down at the crowd just in time for the finale. “To the cottage,” we all screamed. Sweaty bodies on the main floor were still swaying, with their arms in the air, gyrating and dancing. Some couples were holding hands, others kissing, it just didn’t matter. The atmosphere was hypnotic; I stood there smiling. I felt proud that this irresistible inclusive show, that was made in Canada by fellow Canadians, was having such an impact here and around the world.
On the way home, the four of us discussed this sensation. Why did this show have such a strong grip on us? The charismatic actors, their chemistry and acting were obvious — not to mention the sex. But we wanted to dig deeper. For me, the vulnerability, inclusivity and lack of power imbalance stood out. For my daughter, the constant use of consent was an important theme. She also appreciated how the series showed that strong men can be tender and gentle. We all noticed the optimism — in the end, nothing bad happens, there are no tragedies. A show that started with a forbidden sexual attraction blossoms into an engaging romance.
Tierney has said he wants his show to be a celebration of queer joy. When I looked around the club that night, it was just joy. I can’t wait for Season Two.
Ingrid Littmann-Tai lives in Calgary.