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DAILY BUZZ: KANE CLAPS BACK TO ROZANOV’S ‘SLANDER’ - SAYS NOTHING WAS EVER PROVED
NYT: RUSSIAN EMBASSY SILENT. ROZANOV STAYS. FOR NOW.
BUZZFEED: BOSTON HOCKEY HERO MET WITH OUTPOURING OF LOVE AND HATE FROM LONG TIME FANS
Shane clicked on the third article, not wanting to read anymore rumination about Ilya’s status. All Ilya had gotten were simple scoldings from Russia and the NHL. What he’d said had been so mild, Shane feared that if they ever found out about them…
The BUZZFEED article continued.
‘Boston hockey hero, Ilya Rozanov, was born and raised in Russia. After two Russian language questions, and a controversial interview, fans are realizing there is more to this hockey star than what meets the eye… read on to see how the internet is reacting to the everythingness that just happened.
@jackrussel718
Why is @ilyarozanov81 talking about the gays and Hunter? Just play the game, man
@terrieflowers
@jackrussel718 that’s literally what he said in the fucking interview, that the nhl doesn’t hold space for those kinds of questions bc of fans like you
@jackrussel718
@terrieflowers “hold space” go outside freak. Some of us just wanna watch hockey.
@mybabyilyaaaa
YAAAAS I always knew my soft uwu boi was for the girls and the gays
@marlow4ever
@mybabyilyaaaa he is a grown ass man. He’s for the streets
@mybabyilyaaaa
@marlow4ever more like my sheets.
@styxdr4gonhead
K yall are spending way too much time talking about @ilyarozanov81’s comments about the nhl instead of talking about THE FACT HE FEELS STEREOTYPED AS A RUSSIAN INSTEAD OF HIS OWN PERSON??
@rozanovoesposa
@styxdr4gonhead not true. We are also talking about his ass.
Shane glanced at the next one, which BUZZFEED had helpfully translated into English from Russian.
@Хоккей_с_шайбой1881
I think what @ilyarozanov81 said about Russian stereotyping holds true for a lot of athletes and immigrants all over the US. You are not alone!
But the next reply was:
@Ужин_с_пингвином
@Хоккей_с_шайбой1881 it’s not really a stereotype if he is an asshole? That’s what he said. That is who he is.
@streetfightersfan
Is anyone else surprised at how smart @ilyarozanov81 is? I was always under the impression he had no idea what was going on
@bestofprincessmargret
@streetfightersfan I wish I could be surprised at how ignorant this take is but I’m literally not.
@sass81
I think the most important thing we learned was that one day I want to get @ilyarozanov81 so turned on he can’t speak anything but Russian
Shane abruptly closed the article. Jesus. Just when you’d thought BUZZFEED would actually say something insightful.
***
Yuna almost wished her son had caused a few more problems growing up. So she could have learned her own weaknesses, so they could have developed a rhythm for smoothing over differences.
Of course Shane was allowed to have his own friends, however ill advised. He didn’t have to tell her everything. He was, she admitted, his own person. She regretted her own impulsive response, but doesn’t know what to do.
She was deeply, deeply curious. Shane hadn’t brought it up at dinner, David had enough stories from work to fill the silence, but he couldn’t help glancing between her and Shane, in a silent ask of what’s wrong?
She wasn’t sure. Was it that Shane was worried about his friend? (His friend, Ilya fucking Rozanov) Worried about her reaction?
The scariest part was, if she hadn’t known, she would have chalked it up to one of his moods. Wouldn’t have pushed, wouldn’t have pried. Just thought it was another one of Shane’s many quirks.
It was morning now. Shane would be leaving soon, and with it, Yuna’s chance of talking to him.
She won’t push. She won’t pry. Shane wants to have a secret friendship with his rival? Yuna will let him. Thus resolved, she headed out of her backdoor, intending to catch a cup of tea with her neighbor. It will be a good distraction before Shane leaves.
As she walked by the fence, she heard voices.
One, her son’s. concerned, phone pressed close to his ear. He is leaning against the other side of the wooden fence, arms crossed, facing away from her. His shoulders are hunched, pressing the phone into the gap tightly.
And the other, leaking through the phone, not muffled by barely a foot of space and some wooden slats.
A Russian voice.
Shane started to speak again.
“Yeah, well, my mom is like. Freaking out. What you said about me was specific enough for her to figure out that we’re friends. I don’t think anyone else could have figured it out though.”
“Ah,” Yuna could not place the tone. “Is that what we are? Friends?”
“Shut up,” Shane replied. But it was almost in a friendly way with no heat. Something she would have never associated with Rozanov before. Yuna had never heard her son say that to anyone so casually.
“I am sorry about that. I am just not used to giving interviews in Russian. The words- they come too easily. I have more practice in English. You know, email language?”
“Email language?”
“English,” there is a groan of frustration. “Is email. Work. Job. Russian is- “ Ronzanov sighed. Yuna recognized it from her own voice, years ago trying to articulate to her mother how she felt. But the Japanese she knew lacked nuance or an adult feel to it. “Russian is different,” he finished lamely.
“How so?”
“Russian is home,” Rozanov said. Yuna wanted to gasp at the amount of emotion he managed to pack into a single phrase. Before the interview, she never heard him sound anything other than angry or boastful. “But Russian is also sad. It is a sad language. With sad books. And it never loved me back, I don’t think.”
“I’m sorry. I know it’s hard.”
“Better now. As you say, my English has improved a lot since I’ve moved here. But still. I don’t know why they ask these stupid fucking questions about my- the way I am- what is-“
“Persona?”
“Da, yes, persona,” Rozanov said. Yuna didn’t want to know how her son knew to step in, how he knew that the spiraling was Rozanov looking for a word he couldn’t quite grasp. How did her son, who couldn’t find a social cue if it hit him on the head, knew Rozanov’s quirks inside and out.
“It is a stupid question,” Rozanov continued. “Why are you the way that you are? I’m a fucking hockey player from Russia! Why would I be anything else? Fucking look at the world, go outside take a look it’s fucking free, and then you can shove your stupid questions up your ass.”
“I get it,” Shane said. “Having to be what they want you to be. Like- they have an image of you in their mind, and then they run right around asking you why you want to live up to that image. Sometimes- sometimes it really sucks. I get it.”
“I think you are the only person who does.” Yuna stifled a gasp. “I know it is not easy for you, either. Looking the way you do. When she asked me about Shane Hollander, I wanted to say, are you blind? Take a look around, how many players do you see that look like him?”
“Ilya-”
“It is true. Shane Hollander must be clean, perfect, perfect because they would not accept anything else. Do you think he can party? Meet girls? No, never. It doesn’t fit the image.”
“I think my mom would kill me if I started partying and going out every night.”
“Because she knows. What the NHL is too scared to confront. What everyone is obsessed with but pretends not to know. There is only one way that you and I are allowed to play. So we do it.”
The only sound was Shane’s exhale.
“Have you told your mother about Longberg?” Rozanov asked abruptly.
Shane scoffed. “No.”
Yuna’s mind raced with hockey statistics. Mark Longberg. Rookie, third line forward for the Boston Bears. It was his rookie season and he was given no ice time for the last three games. No one knew why.
“He’s off the team,” Rozanov continued. “One good thing comes from this fucking interview, I tell the NHL if you care so much about your goddamn image you’ll get that bastard off my team.”
“Jesus, you didn’t need to do that for me.”
“Not just for you. He shouldn’t have said that. Unacceptable. He shouldn’t even have thought it.”
“It’s one comment, Ilya. It’s not a big deal. I’m used to it.”
“It is not right. I don’t want to play on a team with a man like that. They should criticize you for your weak backhand, not your looks.”
“My backhand’s fine, asshole.”
Yuna startled at her son’s swearing in the midst of a seemingly important conversation. But the pieces were coming together to paint a very depressing picture. Longberg had said something to Shane, about “his looks”. Rozanov had overheard, and used his opportunity in front of the NHL to get him kicked off the team.
“Hmm, it’s not great,” Rozanov said. Rozanov - her son’s rival - who stood up for him. Who quietly, gracefully, removed racist players from his own team. Rozanov, who called Shane to tell him so. And Shane, who didn’t sound surprised that he had.
“I should go,” Rozanov said into the silence. “More meetings. Practice in the afternoon. You know how it is.”
“I do know,” Shane said. I think you are the only person who does, echoed in Yuna’s mind.
“Goodbye Shane.” Such a normal phrase, it sounded like some sort of inside joke. Knowing, and heavy.
“Goodbye Ilya.”
Yuna saw the movement of her son hanging up the phone, preparing to round the fence. Should she pretend she didn’t hear? There was no unhearing that. She didn’t want to be dishonest with Shane, either.
She lost the time to decide. Shane rounded the corner of the fence and saw her.
“Mom!”