oh, drunken gods of slaughter

The entire Boston roster piling behind Marly as he types, trying to decide what to say that could save them because their captain has been possessed by the spirit or a soviet military trainer with knife shoes and if they are forced to make double bagskates again they will either puke or die or both.

I think about Simone Biles dropping out of the Olympics due to struggles with performance, and the mythology created around elite performance athletes like Ilia Malinin, who had a very public fumble at the Olympics despite all the hype. This created a ton of dialogue. Where they had once been something to marvel at, now they are something to scrutinize. Scrutinized by people who know nothing about their sport, even!

Shane doesn’t disappoint though. He brings Montreal three cups. If you don’t know hockey, you know Shane Hollander. Just like you know Tom Brady, Serena Williams, LeBron James. Michelle Kwan, and Simone Biles. You’ve probably rooted for these people alongside diehard fans even when you yourself know nothing about the sport. That’s who Shane Hollander is. He can belong to everyone. He is everyone’s athlete.

And then he’s outed. And then he trips. Suddenly, this man who up until then has lived life mostly unscrutinized (besides the microaggressions of the insular hockey world), who had been unquestionably A Badass, someone to admire, someone to put on a pedestal, he’s suddenly human. He’s someone who passionately kisses his rival in the side yard of his best friend and teammate’s house. He’s someone who carried on a secret affair that has rocked the foundations of the sports world. And because he kissed his rival, because he has revealed himself to be human, he is now brought to the same level of scrutiny as anyone else. It is open season for opinions about Shane Hollander.

Not every opinion would bad. Many would be good. Many would love him for it. But the fact that people feel entitled to make the opinion means that the fabric of Shane’s fame has changed. He’s now up for interpretation. You don’t just sit back and marvel at him, you now have other things to say that cloud the myth. And that changes what he is allowed to do, even as an athlete.

it's well made, well shot, well directed, the music is interesting, the costumes are both thoughtful and subtly period accurate, the sex scenes are intentional and, again, accurate to what hooking up when you're like 18 actually feels like...the actors are of course attractive but they look like real people. the characters are varied and well fleshed out, the acting is really, really strong

so many shows and films shoot and then slot in whatever music kind of fits or could be licenced in the budget after time, but you can tell that the scenes in hr were shot with that specific music in mind. and the same intentional approach runs through the whole thing