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Seven rules of media training
1. Assess the opportunity and prepare for the interview
2. Stay on message
3. Provide clear, positive, straightforward answers. Avoid negativity or jargon.
4. If asked a question you can’t answer, answer the question you wish they’d asked
5. Don’t make concrete predictions about the future.
6. Never say “no comment”.
7. Above all else, don’t lie to the media. Keep it vague or say you don’t know if you have to, but never lie.
When it became clear that Shane was destined for a life in the spotlight, his mother sat him down and told him, very firmly, that they would be starting media training. Yuna had been a PR manager for a global nonprofit when he was young, and had only recently left that job to focus more on his career. Privately, Shane thought she’d just wanted a job where she didn’t have to convince the crusty old executive director that she was right before she did anything.
Regardless, Yuna was an excellent manager, and she was determined from the start that his skills would never be overshadowed by a media scandal. “You have to control the interview,” she said. “You tell them how they talk about you, not the other way around.”
She gave him a list of rules for media interviews. Shane carefully noted them all down, memorized them, and made them his rules to live by. He wasn’t anticipating any scandals, even when he went professional. He didn’t think he’d be interested in drinking, and he was always very polite to women and could control himself around them, unlike some of the other boys in his class. Discipline and rules, that was how you kept yourself out of trouble.
The first time someone asked him about Ilya Rozanov was at the draft in 2009. Yuna had helped him prepare for this right before. She had straightened his tie before they walked in, whispering the media rules under her breath just like he did with hockey plays when he was nervous.
He put a hand over hers. It still scared him sometimes to realize that his hands were so much bigger than his mother’s, that he’d gotten so much taller.
“Rule one,” he said. “Anticipate their questions.”
She smiled tightly and squeezed his shoulder with her free hand. “No matter what happens tonight, we’re so proud of you,” she said. “Remember that.”
Shane nodded, but he was already thinking through the scripts in his head. Look at the reporter, not the camera. Don’t fidget. Breathe.
“Shane, I have to ask. There has been a lot of speculation about where you’ll fall in the draft picks. After a devastating loss for Canada in the final game of the World Juniors’ Championship, many people are already anticipating a rivalry between you and Russia’s Ilya Rozanov. Do you have any guesses about how tonight will go for either of you?”
Shane kept his hands off camera so no one could see if they were shaking. “I’m very excited about the opportunity to play for the MLH,” he recited. “I can’t speculate on where I’ll end up, but I know that no matter what happens tonight I’ll do my very best for my team.”
“And Ilya Rozanov?”
The first question he was asked was a little different from how his mom had given it, but he knew the answer. He hadn’t been prepared for them to follow up on it. “Rozanov is an incredible player,” he improvised. “I’m looking forward to seeing him on the ice.”
That sounded normal, right?
Ilya was drafted first, of course, but he smiled at Shane in the hotel gym afterwards, and a few months later he kissed him more gently than he had any right to. Shane wasn’t thinking of that kiss when he was asked about him again at a pre-game interview a few months later. Instead he was thinking of his mom’s media rules.
“Last night when he was asked about today’s matchup, Ilya Rozanov suggested that he thought you were a goalie. Any comment on this?”
Always bring the question back to a central topic. In other words, you’re here to talk about hockey, so talk about hockey. Not about the fact that Boston’s center was an asshole. Shane looked into the camera and didn’t think about Ilya Rozanov and didn’t think about warms lips on his. If he couldn’t keep a small smile off his face, that was normal. Hockey was supposed to be fun.
“I’m pretty sure that Rozanov knows what position I play,” he said. “If he doesn’t, I’ll remind him tonight.”
Keep it focused.
By the end of the season, Shane was used to questions about Ilya Rozanov. Reporters asked him how he felt about a goal against Rozanov, how the face-offs felt. One reporter in Boston even asked him if he felt that their rivalry was an echo of the Cold War. He couldn’t manage a better answer than “Um. I was born in 1991, so not really?”
Tonight, he expected questions about Ilya Rozanov. He’d just won Rookie of the Year over him. He’d be lucky if the questions were about that and not about being photographed kissing his rival on the rooftop. Leaving Ilya behind, he allowed himself ninety seconds in the narrow hallway before he stepped back into the gala. He took those seconds first to panic, and then to breathe, and straighten his clothes. No one saw them, did they?
Still panicking. Okay. Going back to that step.
Finally he composed himself enough to return to the floor.
He was cornered almost immediately. “Shane, it’s the end of your first season in the MLH and you’ve just taken home the Rookie of the Year recognition, beating out Vincent Lemaire and, possibly more personally, your rival Ilya Rozanov. How are you feeling tonight?”
Shane took a moment to smooth out the tension in his jaw. Be polite about other players, he reminded himself, you never know who you might play with. Not that he was likely to play with Rozanov in the future. The principle still held. He had already developed a reputation as the good boy, the polite one. He wasn’t about to ruin that for a cheap shot at another player. “I’m honored for the recognition,” he said, leaning in. “Rozanov and Lemaire are both really strong players, so to win tonight… it felt incredible.”
Did he waver a little, when he said “felt” instead of “feels”? He was sure that it wasn’t noticeable enough that anyone watching would draw any meaning out of it. With one possible exception.
A second reporter chimed in. “Boston and Montreal have a long-standing rivalry. You and Rozanov seem to be carrying on that tradition. How does it feel to have one up on your rival tonight?”
Shane wished that he could get one question, just one, that wasn’t about Ilya Rozanov, but he was well-trained enough that he didn’t let any of his annoyance show on his face. He’d seen enough videos of himself by now to know what his face was doing. He looked calm and attentive, leaning in to the microphone. “Well,” he said. “Like you said, the rivalry between Boston and Montreal has been around for a long time. This might be the end of our first season, but Rozanov and I are going to be around for a long time. I’m looking forward to playing him again next season.”
He thought he might get away with fewer questions at the Olympics, but the specter of Ilya Rozanov wouldn’t leave him alone, even when Rozanov himself didn’t seem to want anything to do with him.
“I’m here with Shane Hollander, who is representing Canada for men’s hockey today in Sochi. Shane, back home you play in the MLH and have a well-publicized rivalry against Ilya Rozanov, who is the captain of the Russian team here on their home ice. Russia got knocked out of the competition before they could face Canada. How do you feel, knowing you won’t be seeing your rival at the Olympics in his home country?”
Shane didn’t pause. “Ilya Rozanov is an incredible player, but there are a lot of great players around the world today. I’m excited to face Latvia today and see how the tournament progresses.” Easy question. Keep it positive, keep it about other players.
“Have you spoken to Rozanov since his defeat?”
He took just a beat too long to formulate an answer. Not really? Rozanov doesn’t want to talk to me? We had something, not really a friendship but something where his hands were soft and his kiss was gentle and then I guess we don’t have it anymore and I’m not sure what I did wrong?
Pause. Breathe. Remember the media rules. Answer the question you wish they’d asked. Keep it focused. It was about hockey, not about Ilya Rozanov. “For me, the great thing about the Olympics is the opportunity to look beyond our teams and rivalries that we have back home and build something new,” he said. He looked right at his mark and spoke clearly and confidently. “I’m playing with a lot of guys I’ve played against in the past, for example, and meeting lots of new people. Right now I think our biggest contender is going to be the United States. I’m excited to see what Hunter and his team have in store for us.”
There. Plenty of soundbites, nothing about Rozanov. Shane played hockey against a lot of people. Not just Ilya Rozanov.
Five seasons into his career, and the questions hadn’t slowed down at all. The rivalry was a story that everyone wanted.
Shane got it a little. He wasn’t a very interesting person, outside of hockey. Ilya was. Connecting him to Ilya made narrative sense. That’s why he was paired with Ilya to present the Sportsmanship award, where he answered questions about how it felt to stand next to his longtime rival by deflecting and talking about Kyle Brady’s sportsmanship.
And they were rivals. Even if Ilya’s eyes were warm and lit up when he smiled, he was still an opponent on the ice. A really great opponent.
So when a reporter asked him how he really felt about Ilya Rozanov, he was able to answer honestly.
“I have a lot of respect for Rozanov as a player. Our play styles are very different, but you can’t deny that he’s incredible at what he does. It’s always a treat to play against him.”
“Do you think you’ll ever play together?”
Wouldn’t that be something? Playing against Ilya was like playing hockey at its purest form. Playing with him? For a second, Shane couldn’t stop himself from imagining. Ilya’s grin when he scored a goal was blinding, what would it look like if it was turned to him? The relaxed, easy affection he had with his teammates, the way he’d greet each of them on their way off the ice with “I love you”-
Shane shook his head to clear it. It could never happen.
But he remembered his media training too well to say that out loud. No concrete predictions. “Well, I can’t speak for Rozanov, but I’m extremely happy in Montreal,” he said.
“Shane, you’ve been spotted with Rose Landry quite a lot lately. Any comment?”
He smiled. “Only that I have a lot of appreciation for Rose as an artist and a person.” The most “no comment” comment he could give.
So he was out for the season, probably taking his team’s playoff chances with him, but his head didn’t hurt as much and Ilya hadn’t said no to coming to the cottage this summer, so all things considered Shane was feeling pretty happy leading up to his ESPN interview. He straightened his tie and sat up straight, waiting for the camera to turn on.
“I’m here with Montreal Metros captain Shane Hollander. Shane, you’re out of the season after a collision from Cliff Marleau at a home game against Boston two weeks ago. How does it feel to lose your chance to play again this year?”
Shane shifted in his seat, trying to be mindful of the microphone clipped to his tie. “It’s always a disappointment, Jake,” he said. “I’d love to be on the ice right now. I’m just grateful to the medical team at Montreal General and on the team for taking such good care of me.”
“Rumor has it that Boston’s captain, Ilya Rozanov, visited you in the hospital after the collision. Is that true?”
“He did. It’s a common practice for captains of opposing teams to visit injured players. At the end of the day it’s all about representing your team.” Hopefully this would be all of the questions he got about Ilya Rozanov tonight.
“You and Rozanov have a well-publicized rivalry on the ice. Was that part of what you talked about?”
Had they even mentioned their rivalry? Shane mostly just remembered Ilya’s hand in his, and how elated he had felt that the other man was there.
He knew better than to lie, but the idea of that conversation being public, of people knowing how open and unguarded and probably a little overmedicated he’d been made him want to throw up.
“Despite the rivalry,” he said, “I think Rozanov and I want the same thing, which is to play good hockey.” Wasn’t that everything? “For me, how I perform on the ice is the most… is one of the most important things in my life. Everything else, the rivalries, the rankings, the interviews, it’s all extra.”
He was ready for the question before it came, but it still made him smile a little when the reporter said “Your longtime rival Ilya Rozanov has just announced that he’s signing with Ottawa. Any comment on this decision?”
“Ottawa’s my hometown, and I grew up going to their home games. Rozanov’s an incredible player and he’ll be a huge asset to the team. I’m excited to face off against him on the ice this season.”
He couldn’t wait.
“Your performance this season has been overshadowed by news of your personal life going public. Any comment on this?”
Shane clenched his jaw and looked as calm and neutral as he could. “I’ve never wanted my personal life to overshadow how I perform on the ice. I’d rather talk about hockey any day.”
“Rumor has it that you haven’t re-signed with Montreal yet. What are your plans?”
He shrugged. “I just want to play hockey.” It came out softer than he meant it to, but he didn’t understand why people couldn’t get that.
“And Rozanov?”
For once, Shane didn’t manage to hide the flare of annoyance. “Well, I think he wants to play hockey too, which is probably why he does it professionally. Any questions about the game?”
It was the first game of the season, meaning it was the first since his wedding, so Shane was full of anticipation. For once he wasn’t even annoyed when the questions about Ilya came.
“How are you feeling getting to play with your husband?”
How could he possibly make a soundbite out of what he was feeling today? Their relationship had started on the ice. The best moments of Shane’s life all involved either hockey or Ilya. He’d gotten a question about playing with Ilya once, early in his career, before their All-Star game together, and he had wanted it so badly he’d felt dizzy. The fact that this was actually happening didn’t feel real.
“Pretty good,” Shane said, not even trying to hide his grin.
“Do you worry at all that this will impact your performance on the ice?”
He actually laughed at that. “Sharing the ice with Rozanov has always made me a better player. I think this season is going to be a good one.”
When Yuna finally pinned Ilya down for media training, Shane knew his husband was in for a long day. He didn’t expect him to come home looking like he’d just finished a marathon, though.
“Did you run here?”
“Media training,” was all Ilya said, collapsing on the couch. “She made you do this?”
Shane was a good husband and he wasn’t going to laugh at him. Much. “When I was fifteen,” he said. “And she used to repeat all the rules at me every time I went in front of the cameras for years after that.”
“The seven rules?” Ilya looked pathetic. “She made me go over them three times. After she said we were done.”
“I took her to a meditation class for her birthday once and they had us write our own mantras, and I swear to god I heard her reciting those rules under her breath.”
Ilya laughed. “All this training and she couldn’t even get her son to follow rules.”
Shane couldn’t quite kick him from where he was sitting, but he managed to nudge his shoulder with his toe. “Fuck you, I follow the rules!”
“Rule seven,” Ilya pointed out, grabbing Shane’s foot. “Do not lie…”
“Above all else, don’t lie to the media. Keep it vague or say you don’t know if you have to, but never lie,” Shane recited. “I don’t lie to the media, fuck off.”
“Shane.” Ilya dropped his hold on Shane’s foot and rolled over onto his stomach so he could give his husband a pointed look. “Are you saying you never had secret relationship? Hm? Never sucked your rival’s dick in hotel rooms?”
Shane scoffed. “I’m saying no one asked me if I was in a secret relationship with Ilya Rozanov. I chose not to disclose information that no one asked me for. I didn’t lie.”
“Uh-huh.” Ilya got up gracefully and stalked over to where Shane was sitting. “And when they asked you what you think about me?”
“I said I thought you were an incredible player, which I do.” Shane put his book on the side table where it wouldn’t get knocked over.
Ilya bullied his legs together so he could sit down in his lap, arms around his neck. “And when they ask you plans for future with me?”
“I’d say I was looking forward to playing against you next season.” Shane settled his hands on Ilya’s hips. “Which was true until we landed on the same team. Then I said that sharing the ice with you made me better.”
He could see that this affected Ilya more than he would admit, but he didn’t let up. “Our rookie season, I said I thought you were goalie. They didn’t ask you about that?”
Punctuating the question by nipping at Shane’s bottom lip made it a little harder to respond, but Shane managed. “I’d have to pull up the interview to get the exact wording, but I said you knew what position I played.”
Ilya laughed. “I do,” he said, kissing him.