Shaneâs fame is so important to meâhis specific breakout fame to people who donât even know hockey. The endorsements in the show have a somewhat janky look because the show itself isnât high budget (they fake it pretty well but after a million reheats Iâm like oh they donât even show the video game on the tv when theyâre playing at the cottage lmao) but like imagine Hudsonâs sleek Peloton Ad with Shane instead, but instead of the artsy stuff they have Hudson do, itâs just Shane Hollander, man that is a machine, pushing his body to the limit. Imagine the Nike ads and the cologne ads on the side of a snowy cliff. Heâs gorgeous, model gorgeous, and not all premiere athletes have those looks. And Shane will be what you want him to be. If you need him to be the hometown hero sitting at a fast food table pretending to eat a Tim Hortonâs breakfast sandwich, heâll do it. If you need to zoom in on his compelling freckles and driven gaze to sell athleisure clothing, heâll let you. Shane wants legacy and notoriety. He wants to control the conversation surrounding him. He wants there to be mystery, like there is with all exceptional people. But in all his commercials, heâs notably alone. Heâs a myth.
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 doesnât disappoint though. He brings Montreal three cups. If you donât know hockey, you know Shane Hollander. Just like you know Tom Brady, Serena Williams, LeBron James. Michelle Kwan, and Simone Biles. Youâve probably rooted for these people alongside diehard fans even when you yourself know nothing about the sport. Thatâs who Shane Hollander is. He can belong to everyone. He is everyoneâs athlete.
And then heâs 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, heâs suddenly human. Heâs someone who passionately kisses his rival in the side yard of his best friend and teammateâs house. Heâs 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 Shaneâs fame has changed. Heâs now up for interpretation. You donât 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.
Heâs no longer allowed to trip on a piece of ice or a bad edge. He isnât given grace. Because if his secrets hold so much meaning, that also means that his outward actions now also hold meaning. When something so intimate about you is revealed, the stony facade of excellence crumbles. Now everyone has a take. Everyone has an opinion. You are now a public conversation, instead of pleasant inevitability. How can the team count on him, once he reveals his humanity? How can they depend on him, now that heâs a conversation, instead of a lecture?
