The Long Game
56 pages • 1-hour read
Rachel ReidThe Long Game
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Themes
Content Warning: This section of the guide includes discussion of mental illness, death by suicide, suicidal ideation, antigay bias, sexual content, and cursing.
The Corrosive Burden of a Secret Queer Relationship
In Rachel Reid’s The Long Game, the secret queer relationship between rival hockey captains Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov becomes a hidden weight that shapes every part of their lives. They intend the secret to shield them from public backlash and career damage, yet the effort to stay unseen steadily erodes their sense of safety, heightens their isolation, and strains their bond. The secrecy grows heavier than the exposure they fear, and the pressure of their hidden life begins to threaten the love they try to protect. The book shows how authenticity, even with risk attached, becomes necessary for the relationship to survive.
The daily routines of Shane and Ilya turn anxious as their secret relationship reshapes ordinary interactions and limits their closeness. From the start of the novel, Shane is on constant alert and polices their behavior to avoid suspicion. During their charity hockey camp, which should celebrate their joint efforts to raise money and their teamwork, he warns Ilya, “No kissing […] Not even behind closed doors, okay?” (18). His fear twists moments that should bring comfort into reminders of danger. Similarly, the panic he feels when they consider telling their agent Farah, even after a decade together, shows how ingrained the secrecy has become. This hidden life pushes them into rehearsed performances that drain the spontaneity and stability a long-term relationship usually provides. Every quick glance or brief touch must be weighed against the chance of exposure, and that vigilance clashes with the open affection they want.
The secrecy also shapes Ilya’s loneliness, which grows as he keeps the central part of his life from everyone around him. His isolation becomes sharper when he and Shane go on a double date with Ryan Price and Fabian Salah. Watching Ryan and Fabian kiss in a bar and move easily through public space highlights what Shane and Ilya cannot do. Fabian’s question, “Isn’t that a distraction too? Having to hide?” (41), captures the paradox they live with: The effort they spend on concealment tires them as much as the scrutiny they fear. Ilya longs to love Shane without hiding, and the gap between his private truth and his public silence leaves him feeling cut off and worn down.
The narrative reaches its breaking point when a video filmed by Shane’s teammate Hayden Pike accidentally outs them. This moment, while frightening, gives them a way out of the secrecy that has dominated their lives. Their situation stands beside that of Troy Barrett, another queer player who chooses to come out and says he feels a “million pounds lighter” (330). Troy’s relief shows the weight Shane and Ilya have been carrying for years. Once the video circulates, they finally confront the league and steer their future toward honesty. The book shows how a love kept underground eventually suffocates, and how exposure, unwelcome at first, opens a path toward being whole again.
Professional Success at the Cost of Emotional Authenticity
Professional hockey in The Long Game asks its stars to present controlled, marketable versions of themselves. The league favors players who fit clean archetypes such as the disciplined captain or the hardened rival and pressures them to hide any truth that disrupts those roles. Through Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov, Reid shows how this pressure turns career success into something that feels empty. The emotional reality they share offers a form of fulfillment that their trophies and reputation cannot match.
Shane’s public image illustrates this controlled performance. As captain of the Montreal Voyageurs, he models discipline and restraint. His life revolves around a rigid diet, strict routines, and constant attention to appearances. He explains his diet by admitting he fears “not living up to the expectations of the Montreal Voyageurs organization and our fans” (39). This polished exterior hides the tenderness and dependence he only allows around Ilya. Shane thrives on being the admired captain, yet the title requires him to split his public identity from the private one he reveals in Ilya’s presence. That divide exposes the emotional toll of shaping himself to fit the league’s template for a superstar.
Similarly, Ilya’s success in the NHL is put second to his secret relationship when he joins the Ottawa Senators. At the start of the season, he notes how their first game was just “a lot of fancy lights to distract from the fact that the team was truly terrible and would almost certainly lose this game. And the next one” (76). After years of making the playoffs at Boston, Ilya transferred to Ottawa just to be closer to Shane in Montreal, sacrificing his professional success in exchange for his relationship. At the same time, this sacrifice is not enough, as he struggles throughout the novel with hiding his relationship and the emotional toll it has on him. While Shane’s character emphasizes the personal sacrifice required to be successful, Ilya conveys the opposite: he attempts to trade his personal happiness in exchange for the successful career he should have.
At the same time, the league which controls both of their careers, the NHL, shapes its players relationships as tightly as it shapes their individual images. The league spends more than a decade building a rivalry between Shane and Ilya and turns their shared history into a sellable story of opposition. The ESPN documentary about their rivalry becomes the clearest example of this work. The film smooths over every detail that does not fit the official script and erases their long-running love affair. During his interview for the documentary, Ilya grows frustrated because he “could not say any of the things [he] wanted to say” (130). The connection that defines his life disappears in favor of a fiction that supports the league’s financial goals.
This habit of shaping narratives reaches its limit when their relationship is revealed. NHL Commissioner Roger Crowell responds by trying to protect the league’s image through a cover-up. He wants Shane and Ilya to dismiss their relationship publicly, while putting pressure on them to choose between the league’s story and their own. Shane answers that choice by telling Crowell, “I choose him” (367). In that moment, he abandons the polished persona he built for the league and claims a life that reflects what he feels. The book’s happy ending of their marriage underscores the idea that emotional honesty provides a deeper form of success than titles or endorsements, even when telling the truth requires rejecting the institution that shaped their careers.
Depression as an Isolating Force
In The Long Game, Ilya Rozanov’s depression grows out of old trauma and a fear that he will repeat a family history shaped by loss. His illness convinces him that something in him is broken and that he must carry his pain alone. Reid counters that belief by showing how therapy and honest confession create openings toward relief. Silence gives Ilya’s depression its power, while sharing his fears with someone he trusts begins to weaken the hold the illness has on him.
Ilya’s mental health is tied to the memory of his mother’s death by suicide. The dreams that bring her back into view leave him uneasy, and the distance between them inside those dreams connects his exhaustion to the moment when he found her body as a child. He worries that he might be depressed “like Mom” (94) and treats this possibility as a personal flaw or an unavoidable inheritance instead of something that can be treated. The shame tied to that fear keeps him quiet and adds weight to his isolation.
Ilya’s symptoms push him further from the people in his life as he fails to acknowledge them to himself or others. He feels spent, reacts sharply, and smokes more often, which leads him to avoid teammates and sometimes even Shane. He calls himself a “shit captain” (79) and skips events with the team, which removes him from the community he once relied on. When he finally opens up to his therapist, Dr. Molchalina, she helps him see that this withdrawal reflects the illness rather than a moral failure. Additionally, she emphasizes the fact that healing is a journey with several steps, advising him to “think of this as building a Ferrari, instead of driving one” (166). This metaphor, comparing healing to building a car, emphasizes the long process it entails to reach something stable at the end. More importantly, she praises him for taking the first step in acknowledging it and talking about it. The book shows how depression creates a loop: The more he withdraws, the more he believes he is alone and unworthy of support. However, through conversation, Ilya learns to step out of this loop to confide first in his therapist then in Shane.
The most meaningful shift in Ilya’s character happens when he speaks honestly to Shane. After months of hiding his distress, he finally says, “I am not okay” (396). That confession breaks the secrecy that depression depends on. By sharing his pain and his plan to explore medication, he lets Shane become part of his healing. The book presents this moment as an act of strength, since asking for help creates the first real opening toward healing.
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