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The Ottawa Centaurs are a team known for being unlike any other. Their constant striving to defy all expectations has brought them to an unprecedented place. From bottom of the league to Cup winners in two short years – due in no small part to the tireless efforts of their captain, Ilya Rozanov, and proudly championing the moniker “gayest team in hockey” at a time when the MLH and other teams were giving lip service to diversity while actively attempting to silence their queer players, the Centaurs never compromised their values for what was perceived to be the sensible option.
When Montreal Metros attempted to push out their captain, Shane Hollander – who, for those of you who have been living under a rock, is Rozanov’s former rival and now husband – Ottawa leapt at the chance to have the two men playing on the same team. Scoffed at by many as a politically motivated gambit and sure to fail, the gamble-that-never-was paid off big time as the team has won three of the past seven cup games. Ottawa has consistently pushed back against the established narrative, refusing to be defined by metrics others claimed were the only path to success. Instead, they seemingly laugh at all established conventions and take pride in ripping up the rulebook and winning anyway. I wanted to understand how far this philosophy went, so I was invited by Coach Wiebe and the team to join them for a week of training camp to see how much of the Centaur’s unconventional approach is media PR and how much is genuine. This is what I learned after spending a week with them on and off the ice.
I am introduced to the team members on an individual basis. Each man is polite, although some are wary. Given the press they have had over the years – both as a team and as individual men – I cannot say I blame them, but they do not allow this reticence to hold them back from sharing. I ask each of them the usual getting-to-know-you questions, and I’m surprised by the answers. Usually, these questions only provide a foundation upon which to develop further inquiries, and not any insight in themselves. However, rather than pre-scripted responses, the team gives genuine and thoughtful answers, and I learn a lot about them from their five-minute intro interviews.
Individually, the Ottawa Centaurs are an incredibly intelligent collection of men. The 21-man roster has fluency in an incredible 30 languages, with additional ones still being studied. Defenceman Nick Chouinard completed his distance master’s degree in Statistical Analysis last year, while helping the team to their third Cup win. Alternate captain Zane Boodram won a national chess tournament at eight years old and was touted to be on track to a Grandmaster title before he decided that hockey was where his passions lay. While some may say this is another example of where the Centaur’s differ from other teams, this author would not like to speculate. I only bring it up to contextualise the following paragraph. Individually, these men are smart.
As a group, however, it seems that they collectively share one brain cell. And most of the time, it’s being held by Hollander, simply due to the fact that he is the most sober at any given team function. Do not make the mistake in thinking that Hollander is somehow exempt from the madness that somehow engulfs the team whenever three or more players are in the same room. This week, I personally witnessed Hollander try to fight a bus stop while inebriated (said bus stop was exhibiting a campaign poster of a prominent opponent of marriage equality) and get into a completely sober argument about correct pickle alignment on pastrami sandwiches, which ended in threats of divorce. This argument was not with his husband.
Speaking of whom, Ilya Rozanov’s reformation from “ladies’ man” (not the term originally used when this article was written, word amended by editor) to “downbad loverboy” (term originally chosen by author and editor conceded after scrolling Twitter and Instagram for some time) has been talked about endlessly, so this author won’t repeat the discourse. However, it would be remiss of me to talk about this team without mentioning the Hollander/Rozanov relationship. The details of which we all know – forcibly outed, Hollander being ousted from the team he’d made Cup winners, joining the Centaurs. This is old hockey news.
Rozanov’s dedication to his husband is clear to anyone with working eyes or ears. Sometimes, even those aren’t needed. Rozanov’s constant use of nicknames – often in Russian – has been well documented on the ice and in interviews. While playing against each other in the brief time between their relationship being public knowledge and Hollander leaving the Metro’s, Rozanov could be heard chirping at Hollander while simultaneously declaring him the love of his life. Many speculated this was an over-the-top display to legitimise their relationship for the world. But this week, seeing them together when the cameras are not on them shows me that if anything, Rozanov has been holding back in public.
When not on the ice, these two cannot bear to be apart. This ranges from obvious decisions, such as sitting next to each other in meetings and group outings, to being next to each other in the locker room. And then there are the not-so-obvious. On team bonding nights out, Hollander is often the first one to leave, citing a strict bedtime. Rozanov – who famously once stumbled from a nightclub straight to morning practice without ever going home in between – will stay longer to enjoy the festivities. However, once his husband is out of his sight, Rozanov is clearly unsettled. His phone – previously not seen all day or evening – now seems glued to his hand, his foot taps impatiently, and he is less engaged with any conversations happening. It rarely takes longer than a single beer for Rozanov to start yawning and making his excuses. Judging by the amused looks on the other players’ faces, this is standard operating procedure for the couple. “It’s not like they can’t do things separately; they absolutely can. They simply don’t want to”, says self-proclaimed “wife guy” Evan Dykstra, who openly admits if his wife were on the team, he would be the same.
“They kind of make you believe in true love and the concept of soulmates”, says right-winger Luca Haas. On any other team, such an earnest declaration of love would be met with derision and jeers, but the Centaur’s, however, just nod wistfully in agreement. Rozanov’s willingness to be “walked like a dog” (as one colourful internet hashtag put it) [editor note: really??] aside, how does their relationship work within the team and how does their teamwork affect their marriage? Hollander is a former captain now under the charge of his husband. Does that impact their home life at all?
“Not really”, Hollander says, “I’m used to ignoring everything he says, so I just carry on doing that.”
“Lies!”, Rozanov cackles in response. “You always do what I tell you”, he says with a cheeky wink that Hollander visibly wills himself not to react to. Unfortunately for him, his teammates’ screeching in the back exposes that there’s more truth to this statement than anyone in the room wants to admit. When I ask the others if their relationship has ever impacted the team, the answer is unanimous.
“Yes. For the better. If they hadn’t been together, Ottawa never would have signed Rozanov. Never would have signed Hollander. The two best players of a generation – by far – and Ottawa got both of them. Ottawa wouldn’t be winners without them”, is Troy Barrett’s emphatic response.
“Absolutely”, agrees Dykstra. “Their insane competitiveness makes us all better players. Fighting to be the best, have the most goals or points or be the fastest, that’s their version of flirting. And being on a team with two players like that, you have to learn to keep up because otherwise they’ll just demolish you. If they weren’t married, none of us on the team would be where we are now – three-time Cup winners by the way!”
Other responses are similar and entirely earnest. There’s no hint of polished media training here. Having spent a week watching the two interact on and off ice, I fully agree, but it would be remiss of me not to push a little further, so I seek out Luca Haas. Haas has a reputation for being honest and forthcoming, and when I ask if there are any negatives, he considers the question seriously before looking at me with a frown and clear conflict on his face. Rozanov is in the room scrolling for songs to add to his gym playlist and absentmindedly permits Haas to share what’s on his mind.
“Well, I guess, it was kind of a problem at away games”, he starts hesitantly, and I can see the grin slowly spreading across Rozanov’s face as he realises where Haas is going with this. I ask for clarification, and Haas is interrupted by Rozanov, who provides a long and thoroughly detailed explanation, which my editor and legal have confirmed I cannot print a word of. All I can say is that when the team stay in hotels, the married couple are situated at least two floors away from any other member of Centaur’s team or staff travelling, due to noise complaints affecting team performance on ice. Legal did, however, clear Rozanov’s insistent statement that “my performance was never affected”. Emphasis is entirely the statement-giver’s own.
But enough about the infamous couple, and back to hockey. Or whatever it is that the Centaurs do, because in the week I spent with them at training camp, I think I saw maybe 15 minutes of actual practice. The team has the motto “work hard, play hard” taped to their door, an admirable sentiment, but there’s no display of the first word of the sentence anywhere to be found. They turn up to practice and spend most of their allotted gym session arguing about which playlist to listen to. A slap fight breaks out when Dykstra attempts to take the aux cord, and he’s physically tackled to the ground by LaPointe. This is the most energetic I see LaPointe all week.
They get on the ice and start warm-ups, which quickly devolves into silliness and pranking. Rozanov frequently abandons running drills in favour of either flirting with or ragebaiting his husband, the two getting into races or silly competitions. Coach Wiebe doesn’t look to be bothered by his two star players goofing off, nor by the rest of his team, who seem to have given up hockey altogether. Holmberg and Boyle seem to spend more time rehearsing a production of ‘Titanic On Ice’ (which Social Media Manager Harris Drover promises will be coming soon to an Instagram page near you) than they do holding hockey sticks. Although there seems to be some confusion, as the ‘king of the world’ section seems to have some lines from Brokeback Mountain sprinkled in, for unfathomable reasons.
Troy Barrett and Wyatt Hayes spend an entire hour sitting on the rink (not on the bench, on the ice) playing pattycake and hotly debating who will be the quickest to learn the cup game. Haas is currently the only person doing anything resembling hockey, and that’s only because he’s the only person on the ice holding a stick and has a puck. The puck is balanced on the stick while he skates up and down the rink, neatly weaving between Hollander and Rozanov, who are competing to be the best hockey player who can figure skate, while Young judges. It’s chaos, it’s pandemonium. It’s not hockey.
“I’m not bothered”, says Coach Wiebe when I ask him if this is normal and why he hasn’t called the team to order. “We’ve always done things differently here, and it’s not harmed our success, so I let them do what they need to do. Roz is a good captain and knows what he’s doing.”
Watching Rozanov attempt what I think is meant to be a Salchow Jump and narrowly avoid breaking his neck, I’m not so sure about that. However, a few short weeks later, I’m watching the Centaurs take on the New York Admirals in the first game of the season, and it’s an easy win for the Centaurs, despite the Admirals playing hard. I’m forced to eat my words because whatever they were doing is working. It may not have been hockey, but hey. An openly queer married couple playing for the league, on a team known for not just paying lip service to their commitment to diversity. That wasn’t hockey either. But it is now. At the end of the day, maybe that’s what’s really important.