No, I Don’t Want to Watch Your Straight Hockey Show

The streaming industry has gotten a lot of flak over the past few years, but there is one thing that Hollywood studios are undeniably good at: recycling the same idea, over and over and over again until the world ends (or until everyone finally decides they’re sick of Harry Potter, whichever comes first).

This tried-and-true formula is now playing out in real time with Prime Video’s Off Campus and Netflix’s upcoming series Icebreaker, shows that, like Heated Rivalry, are hockey-themed romances about polar opposites who just can’t seem to keep their hands off each other.

But there’s one key difference: Icebreaker and Off Campus are about heterosexual romances, while Heated Rivalry is about a secret gay relationship. And considering how much queerness played a role in Heated Rivalry’s explosive popularity, it seems like the clamor for straight horny hockey content is another example of Hollywood just not getting the message.

Off Campus, which debuted last month, is about Hannah Wells, a reserved musician who agrees to enter a fake relationship (?) with college hockey captain Garrett Graham in exchange for philosophy class (??) tutoring. The forthcoming Icebreaker, which Netflix announced this week, is about a figure skater who falls in love with a hockey player after they’re forced to practice on the same rink.

Hockey aside, Icebreaker and Off Campus have a lot in common with Heated Rivalry. They’re all adaptations of popular novels: Off Campus is based on a series of steamy books by Canadian author Elle Kennedy, while Icebreaker is inspired by a YA novel by British author Hannah Grace. They’re also all variations on the “enemies to lovers” trope, popularized by fanfic sites like Wattpad and ao3.

When it debuted on Crave and HBO Max last winter, Heated Rivalry primarily received attention for its steamy sex scenes, as well as the chemistry between its two leads, Connor Storrie (who plays the mercurial Ilya Rozanov) and Hudson Williams (the straight-laced Shane Hollander). But as the show gained traction, it also was acclaimed for its depiction of the surprisingly tender relationship between the two, as well as its portrayal of LGBTQ-specific spaces and themes. It also gained a huge following among straight women, drawing attention to the Japanese fandom fujoshi, which centers around heterosexual women consuming gay male stories.

It’s hard to overemphasize just how much of Heated Rivalry’s success is owed to its queerness—not just because it was hot, but because there is genuine audience demand for it. According to UCLA’s 2024 “Hollywood Diversity Report,” shows featuring “underrepresented stories,” including LGBTQ-themed narratives, have higher median ratings and more social media discourse than shows that don’t. “The evidence is clear that audiences today are hungry for both diverse stories and diverse storytellers,” the report’s coauthors Ana-Christina Ramón and Michael Tran tell WIRED via email.

There is certainly evidence to suggest that general interest in hockey has increased as a result of Heated Rivalry’s popularity, with NHL ticket sales reportedly surging in the weeks after the show’s launch. But it’s hard to understand how studio executives can look at the success of that show and attribute it to a sudden, newfound interest in a sport that, historically, has been less popular in the United States than baseball, basketball, or football.

The actual explanation for Heated Rivalry’s popularity appears fairly obvious: the girls, gays, and theys like watching hot guys make out in hotel rooms and exchange yearning looks over a dance floor. The taboo nature of Shane and Ilya’s relationship in a traditionally hetero-masculine space also likely played a huge role, says Matt Puretz, senior researcher for UCLA’s Center for Storytellers and Scholars.