Work Text:
June 2010
Tommy had been working with CCM for six months by the time they gave him his first big assignment.
He’d always wanted to work in sports, if not specifically hockey. Tommy played hockey growing up, but then again, many Canadian kids did. He didn’t play in college, mostly because he wasn’t quite good enough for the team at McGill. He’d have happily warmed the bench there for four years, but it wasn't meant to be. Instead, he became a raving fan, and in turn, fell in love with sports on the whole.
Throughout his time in college, Tommy worked for the university paper, covering sporting events primarily. He mostly did photojournalism, but he wrote articles, too, when need be. The video coverage of such events was minimal, but whenever there was a broadcast, Tommy was involved. He loved covering sports. Loved getting to document athletes getting in the zone, capturing those special little moments when they were almost superhuman.
It made sense to go into a similar line of work. He had an enormous portfolio by the time he graduated, of both photo and video, and CCM had a communications coordinator job open. As it turned out, being a communications coordinator meant wearing all sorts of hats, one of which included wrangling the subjects of ad campaigns to schedule their shoots.
CCM tapped a new crop of players each spring, usually big-name rookies, but sometimes just new-ish players who were starting to get more time on the ice throughout their tenure in the NHL. The brand contracted with a handful of players, and it was one of Tommy’s many jobs to issue communications to each of them. And coordinate the shoot dates. And book hotel rooms, and reimburse for travel, and so much fucking more. Then, he’d be the one shooting photos while the camera rolled, and he’d be the one culling and editing the videos into something usable for a commercial. (It was a good thing he loved hockey and loved sports media. Realistically, Tommy was doing at least two, if not three people’s jobs, but that didn’t matter. He was young, and the job was a foot in the door at the largest hockey equipment manufacturer in the world. He could suck it up.)
It was late in the afternoon when Tommy got the email. He’d sent out half a dozen that afternoon, individual emails to the athletes and their agents, explaining the dates they’d be expected in Toronto for the commercial shoot, and what the compensation would look like. In the email, Tommy elaborated on who else from the league would be part of the 2010-2011 brand team. He scheduled the shoots each a day or two apart, so the CCM could focus on each individual athlete. All together, the entire thing would take about a week. According to Bill, Tommy's boss, this was how they did the brand shoot every year. Tommy was essentially given a spreadsheet and told to rinse and repeat. So he did.
He expected it to be some run-of-the-mill email from a colleague, or maybe from one of the agents on the email threads. But the email at the top of Tommy’ inbox wasn’t from a colleague or agent. It wasn’t a ‘sounds good, see you soon’ type of email.
It was an email from Ilya Rozanov.
The Russian prodigy who, at age 18, had been the number one draft pick last June. The kid who would be Boston's newest star player, come October.
To: thomas[email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: CCM Brand Ambassador Shoot Details
Hello Thomas,
Thank you very much for opportunity. I am looking forward to it very much.
In email, you say Shane Hollander is also ambassador for CCM. I am thinking maybe would be good for you to use us both together at same time for commercial, not separate. We are both top draft picks this year. I am number one and Hollander is number two, maybe you saw this. This would be good move for brand, I am thinking. What are the dates for Shane Hollander’s shoot? I am probably available. Please let me know.
Thank you,
Ilya
Tommy was stunned.
Perhaps the most stunning thing was not that Ilya Rozanov, the league’s number one overall draft pick, was in Tommy’s inbox, but that he was in Tommy’s inbox… making suggestions?
Making… actual, good suggestions?
The email was clear enough, despite the imperfect grammar. It read like it’d been passed through google translate. Tommy couldn’t blame the kid. Tommy hardly spoke a lick of French, even though he’d grown up in eastern Canada where it was all but expected. From interviews he’d watched, Tommy could tell Rozanov was far more bilingual than he was. He respected the hell out of him.
It honestly was kind of a brilliant idea. The league was already trying to paint those two kids as rivals, which, well, was probably par for the course. Things were getting a little dull. The league needed to stitch something fresh together; why not pin it on the two new rookies?
Really, though, would Hollander even go for that idea? Maybe they could just… not tell him? Or, tell him, but only after it was too late to back out? Shane Hollander always seemed so solitary, whenever Tommy saw interview clips of him. Quiet, like he really kept to himself. Rozanov, on the other hand, seemed to really know how to work a room. Perhaps his brazen email was just more of that same, self-assured behavior.
But, either way, Rozanov had a good point. CCM had signed the top two draft picks, and they hadn’t even thought to use them to their advantage. Tommy hit the forward button on the email and sent it off to Bill to see what he thought. It could make for a great campaign. The two of them, Hollander and Rozanov. Together.
***
July 2010
As it turned out, having the top two draft picks onsite together for a commercial shoot would make for a great ad campaign.
That was, if the ad campaign was for the power of friendship, or perhaps how enjoyable and wholesome the sport of hockey could be.
In terms of an ‘intense, moody ad campaign featuring two rival players’, well. They didn’t end up getting a ton of material for that. Which Bill would probably not be thrilled about. But there was nothing Tommy could do about it.
Both rookies showed up to the Toronto rink on a sticky hot July day, ready to skate. They were dressed in full CCM gear and skated out onto the ice in relative silence, which made Tommy wonder if this was all a big mistake. Maybe the kids really didn’t like each other, and Rozanov’s suggestion was simply another way to get under Hollander’s skin. It wasn’t out of the question. Sports rivals did all sorts of crazy stuff to intimidate their opponents.
Fuck, had he made a huge mistake?
But his fears were quickly assuaged when he first saw Hollander crack a smile.
It seemed like between takes, the boys were chatting, if not just briefly. Tommy couldn’t be certain, but he thought he even heard Rozanov call Hollander pretty. That sort of thing might have sounded strange, but Tommy had spent enough time in locker rooms growing up to know that ‘you beauty’ was actually a pretty standard compliment between two hockey players. Maybe Rozanov just didn’t get the translation quite right.
The shoot devolved quickly after that.
The boys looked great on camera. They were naturals already. Hollander was a little stiff, but still, he looked like such a natural athlete, it was easy for Tommy to capture. When Bill had called out ‘Tommy, you’re happy with that shot?’ it was always an immediate yes.
They got a few shots where the boys skated towards each other with intensity, a mock face-off, but after a handful of attempts, Hollander and Rozanov could barely hold it together.
It started out with Rozanov, his expression buckling with poorly concealed laughter every time he approached Hollander on the ice. Hollander’s expression would collapse in turn, similarly affected, an inch away from losing it completely. Bill sounded a little exasperated, halfway to begging each time he asked for ‘a lot of intensity guys’.
“I know it’s been a long day, guys, let’s just get a few more shots in and we can go home,” Bill had pleaded with them. He was met with a few half-hearted sorrys from the two players.
After a few more takes, Rozanov’s laugh-filled ‘I can do it, I promise!’ started to sound a little weak. They boys were uncontrollable, doubling over in laughter every time they got close to one another.
It was then that Tommy was reminded of their age.
These were just a couple kids, at the end of the day. Boys. Barely nineteen, though in a few months, their lives would completely change. They’d be the biggest new stars in hockey. It was almost a gift, in a sense, to witness them now, like this. Untouched by true fame.
Just boys.
The goofing around was endearing, because what else could they be expected to do? If Tommy were in their shoes a few years ago, he could be sure he’d do the same.
What a life these boys were about to live.
Later in the evening, Tommy was culling video, flipping through clips of their mock face-off, trying to find anything workable. It was a challenge. In the early takes, Hollander didn’t really look at Rozanov with enough fury, enough intensity. His eyes were soft, unguarded. And then, pretty quickly, he was just smiling back at the other boy, Rozanov grinning wide and holding his gaze. The photos turned out similarly, most of them being unusable for the purposes of the shoot.
Tommy really wished he could use the material for the campaign, because god were those two gorgeous when they were smiling. But it was probably a little too silly for Bill’s taste.
It really was a shame, the way the league wanted to paint those two as rivals. It seemed like those boys could do that all day, just laugh and smile in each other’s company. They made hockey look fun. For a moment, Tommy let himself wonder what it would have been like for those kids to be drafted to the same team.
That kind of magnetism would be hard to beat.
***
December 2020
It was a Sunday morning, a few weeks before Christmas, when Tommy got the email.
He’d been promoted twice within CCM over the course of the last decade, so somehow he was still kicking around at the company. Bill was looking to retire soon, so Tommy had stuck around. He was biding his time, hopefully looking at that Director of Marketing and Communications title in the near future. Considering he now had a wife and two kids and a mortgage, he was really, really hopeful.
Tommy ran all of the media pages for CCM now, the website, socials, etc., and coordinated all advertising. He had control over pretty much everything they put out there. He was the brand’s voice.
Usually he didn’t care much for checking his work email on the weekends, but the notification on his phone piqued his interest, so he opened it.
From: [email protected]
Subject: 2010 photoshoot
Hello Tommy,
I hope you are doing well this holiday season. It has been a while! I do not know if you are still with CCM or if this email maybe is even still active. If not, hopefully someone can direct me to someone else who can help.
This is an odd request, and I understand if you do not have them any more, but I wonder if maybe you have any photos from the shoot I did in Toronto with Shane Hollander, before our rookie season? I know it has been long time. I would like to see anything that you have, if they are not deleted by now. Especially I would like any of the ones you did not use for ads.
Let me know.
Thank you,
Ilya
Not for the first time, Tommy was stunned to receive an email from Ilya Rozanov.
It had been over ten years since that shoot.
Which made him feel fucking old. Because he was twenty-three when they did that shoot, twenty-three and freshly employed and working like a fucking dog for hardly any pay. Why he’d stayed working at CCM after that first year, Tommy may never know. What’s more, he hadn’t really been Tommy in professional circles in probably six or seven years. He was Tom now, though that felt foreign even in his own mouth. It was almost like getting an email from an old friend, being addressed as Tommy.
That really was such a fun day.
God, did he even still have those photos?
Of course he did. He kept everything. They were… somewhere. On an external hard drive, probably. At the office. He’d have to look.
Tommy supposed it was an odd sort of request, but it wasn’t like they weren’t photos of him. Rozanov was entitled to them, surely.
His English was notably much better, which could probably be expected. He’d been living in the States for ten years. Well, actually, no, that wasn’t true, was it? Rozanov had been in Ottawa for the last two years.
Rozanov’s friendship with Hollander had been a surprise to most people in the hockey world, except for perhaps only Tommy. It was no real surprise to him when the pair of them announced their foundation those couple summers back. It had always seemed like they were friendly, in Tommy’s eyes. But then again, no one else really saw what he saw, that day in July ten years ago.
No one else got to see those boys in their professional infancy, but Tommy knew they’d almost certainly been friends from the start. Maybe even best friends.
Maybe Rozanov wanted the photos for something related to their foundation. Something to do with branding?
Tommy googled hollander rozanov charity camps on his phone, out of curiosity, and tapped on the first link. That’s right, he thought to himself. The Irina Foundation. Named for Rozanov’s late mother. The whole office had watched the press conference on YouTube after it happened, because it felt so damn monumental at the time. Again, monumental for those who were not part of the 2010 commercial shoot. Everyone was so shocked, 'Hollander and Rozanov announced a charity?! Together?!' But in Tommy’s eyes, it sort of… just made sense? Two long-time players by that point, with a ton of money in the bank, giving back to a good cause that mattered a lot to the both of them. It was sweet.
Their website was pretty bare bones. A landing sort of page with a blurb about the foundation and the causes it supported, a tab with a calendar for next summer’s hockey camps, and an About Us tab. Tommy clicked on it, and was met with another short blurb about the two players. The photo on the page looked to be iPhone quality; it was a picture of Hollander and Rozanov with their arms around one another, complete with sweaty hair and big grins, wearing practice jerseys with their foundation logo on the chest. It was a great photo, to be sure, but again, shitty quality. Hollander and Rozanov weren’t teammates, so they probably didn’t have a ton of official-looking photos together in any gear. Now Tommy actually hoped they’d use some of his photos from that shoot to spruce up the page a little bit. They couldn't look that much older now, even if it had been ten years.
The next morning, Tommy was tearing apart his office trying to find that old hard drive.
He dug through his desk drawers on his hands and knees, flinging black plastic hard drives all around, searching for anything labeled 2010. Finally, he found one with peeling masking tape, July 2010 scribbled on it in red Sharpie.
“Thank fuck,” Tommy breathed, knees popping as he got to his feet. He plugged the old thing into his computer and waited for the photos to load.
The first thing Tommy noticed about them was the quality. He’d been shooting on a Nikon, back then. They cycled the last of those cameras out maybe five years ago, and the quality had vastly improved since. But that wasn’t to say the photos were bad.
It was quite the opposite.
The photos were adorable.
He’d taken more than he remembered, Tommy realized, as he flipped through them all. They must have just looked so cute that he got snap happy. There were dozens of them, close-up shots of the boys’ faces, of their big, goofy grins. They looked so young, too.
Wow, if this didn’t make him feel old.
God, the photos were so cute. Bill had been right not to use them for the ad campaign, they portrayed the complete opposite of an intense rivalry. But maybe that was why Rozanov wanted them. They’d do well on their foundation website to convey the very real friendship between the two players.
Tommy bundled the few dozen photos into a WeTransfer link and sent it back over to Rozanov. He hoped it would be enough for what he was looking for.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Tommy wondered where that old video footage for the commercial was living. Another ancient hard drive, probably. He’d have to take a look.
***
March 2021
It all made sense.
When that stupid fucking FanMail video hit social media like a freight train, perhaps the least-shocked person was Tommy Clark. The writing had been on the wall, hadn’t it? He’d been close enough to putting the puzzle. Just needed that one last piece.
It had been three and a half months since Ilya Rozanov reached out, out of the blue, for those old photos of himself and Hollander. Tommy wondered how long they had truly been together together, if they were together like that during the 2010 shoot. It didn’t really seem that way, but then again, Tommy really only saw a sliver of their lives that day. He had no idea the inner workings of their relationship, and he knew he wasn’t entitled to it. All Tommy knew was that now, looking back a few months ago, Rozanov’s request was really fucking sweet. Romantic, even. And it all made sense.
He decided he’d look for that old video footage.
***
May 2021
“Hello, I am Ilya, and this is my boyfriend, Shane. Say hello, Shane.”
“Um. Hi.”
“Shane, when are we getting married?”
“July.”
“July! Still can’t believe it, huh? We are getting married. And then we are going to keep playing hockey, break more records, win more cups. Yes, Shane?”
“Hell yes.”
“See you in October, hockey fans.”
Hollander was blushing, his smile giving him away. Rozanov looked lit from within. They closed out the video with big smiles on their faces, and a bruising kiss from Ilya to Shane’s cheek. It was fucking adorable. They were fucking adorable.
Tommy hadn’t said or done anything since the two of them were outed. It didn’t feel right to. What would he even say? Rozanov and Hollander hadn’t shared anything themselves publicly, so it seemed most respectful to give them space. The talk among colleagues in the office up until that point had mostly been shock at the revelation, and sadness that they were outed in such a public way. Without their consent. There was nothing but support for them from the team at CCM. Tommy had been so close to re-upping that December email thread with Rozanov, just to check in and say: are you guys okay? But Tommy wasn’t their friend. He didn’t really know them. It would probably be weird to reach out, then.
Now, though. Now that they’d finally said something about it themselves, posted it to social media, announced they were getting fucking marred? Well.
Tommy sat down at his desk and opened his email.
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE: 2010 photoshoot
Hey there,
Wanted to reach back out to extend my sincere congratulations to you and Shane on your engagement. I couldn’t be happier for the both of you. The team here at CCM has your back. If you guys ever wanted to put together another commercial or ad campaign, we’d be psyched.
Tommy almost signed the email off after that, before he reconsidered. It could be months before they got something on the calendar, especially if Hollander and Rozanov were getting married in July. They’d probably want to honeymoon after, and then it would be back to hockey in the fall. It might have sounded like an empty gesture, just to offer some vague promise of a future shoot, though it wasn’t empty at all. Even so, it would probably be nice to have something to express the brand’s support of them in the interim. This wasn’t a small thing. Two players, two purportedly rival players, coming out together and getting married? This wasn’t something that happened every day, or every year. This was a once-in-a-lifetime thing, for the hockey world.
This was something to celebrate.
Tommy went back to the email.
This might be overstepping a bit, but since you’ve announced your engagement publicly, we’d love to make a post about you guys. We’ve got some old b-roll from the commercial shoot that I was looking through a few weeks ago, and some of it is really great. Short-form video tends to perform really well on social, so we’ve been trying to do more of that. Totally up to you guys, there’s no pressure at all.
Let me know what you think, and let’s get something on the calendar if you’re interested in another shoot.
My best to you both.
-Tommy
It wasn’t an hour later that he got a response.
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE: RE: 2010 photoshoot
Yes, to all. We would love to do new shoot, and please feel free to make video. We have always wanted to see these old clips. Can you please send to us before you post, just to make sure it is okay?
Thank you for this.
-Ilya and Shane
***
June 2021
Ilya felt his phone buzz in his back pocket. He struggled in the hammock to reach around and grab it, suspended in mid-air. As soon as he saw the first line of the email notification, he sprang into action, clambering out ungracefully.
“It’s ready, moya lyubov,” Ilya called out as he scrambled into the cottage.
“I just saw!” Shane’s distant reply echoed. He was wiping his hands on a dishtowel, cleaning up the remnants of their lunch. “I didn’t want to watch without you,” he added.
“Yes, good,” Ilya nodded, taking a seat at one of the kitchen barstools, waiting for his fiancé to join him. The email from Tommy was brief.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected], [email protected]
Subject: Video for instagram
Hey guys,
Thanks for your patience as we put this one together. Let me know if you like the song choice. We can definitely change it, this is just what came to mind first. Totally up to you.
For the caption, we were thinking something along the lines of this:
‘Hockey is just a game, but love will always be love. We’re so proud of you, Ilya and Shane. Here’s some behind-the-scenes footage from their first commercial shoot back in 2010. We have to say, even all those years ago, it seems like this love was a sure thing.’
We’ll tag both your socials.
Again, just let me know if you want to change anything.
-Tommy
“I’m kind of nervous now,” Shane admitted, blushing a little. “I guess I didn’t realize there would be like, music.”
The proposed caption made Ilya’s heart race. He shrugged, trying to play it off, aiming for nonchalance. His thumb hovering over the play button. “We can always say no, yes? If we don’t want them to post.”
“Right,” Shane nodded. “That’s true.”
“Okay, I can play?”
“Yes, yes, play it,” Shane urged.
The video opened with a clip of them laughing right away. The footage was a little fuzzy, which Ilya supposed made sense. It was now eleven years old.
The music selection was a surprise to Ilya, though he wasn’t sure why. It fit them, completely.
Even when the sky comes falling
Even when the sun don't shine
I got faith in you and I
So put your pretty little hand in mine
Layered over the music were dozens of clips, trimmed after a second or two, of the pair of them skating in towards each other, doubling over in laughter. Zooming in on their faces. Staring at one another with big, toothy smiles. A few clips of them skating individually were interspersed, the other b-roll they made them shoot that day. Stick handling and passing together. God, they were so young then.
Ilya was stunned. He couldn’t believe the way he was looking at Shane in those moments. It was one of the first times he’d ever really spent time with Shane. If only he could tell himself at nineteen where he’d be at thirty.
That the boy he was crushing on turned out to be the love of his fucking life.
How did the people at CCM watch this stuff back then and not know? How could they not see it?
It was a miracle that Ilya was able to keep his feelings to himself for as long as he did. What’s more, it was a little crazy to him that Shane ever thought Ilya was anything other than deeply, deeply in love with him. If that was how he was looking at Shane, even all those years ago.
Ilya, who, at age nineteen, rearranged his schedule to get his ass to Toronto early. Just to crash Shane Hollander’s "solo" CCM shoot.
Even when we're down to the wire, babe
Even when it's do or die
We could do it, baby, simple and plain
'Cause this love is a sure thing
The video faded to black after one final clip of their faces, gazing longingly into one another’s eyes. The whole thing was quick, less than a minute long, even after the chorus looped twice. Ilya wanted to press play on it again, (and again and again and again), but he looked at Shane beside him instead and found his eyes glassy.
“Shane,” Ilya said softly, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Baby, hey–”
“Tell Tommy to post it,” Shane said quickly, his voice wobbling in his throat. He sniffled a little bit, tears threatening to spill over in the corners of his eyes. “It’s perfect,” he added. “Tell him to post it right now.”