Culture
NHL legacies and hockey dads: How Jarome Iginla and Byron Ritchie are preparing for the draft
Byron Ritchie jotted out a quick note on his phone and sent off a text to Jarome Iginla, his former Calgary Flames teammate.
Ritchie’s son Ryder was mired in a goal-scoring slump, and Ritchie asked Iginla if he could watch a few of his son’s shifts. “Just see if you’re seeing something different than I am,” Byron asked.
It was one hockey dad asking another for advice, but in truth, less personal versions of this type of exchange are commonplace for Ritchie and Iginla. The two former NHL forwards played together in Calgary for two seasons nearly 20 years ago. They both made their offseason homes in the Okanagan, a picturesque locale in the interior of British Columbia that’s popular among NHL players.
In August 2006, following their first year as teammates in Calgary, Ritchie’s wife, Maria Johansson, and Jarome’s wife, Kara Iginla, both gave birth to sons. Ryder was born on Aug. 3. Tij Iginla arrived the very next day.
Now the two 17-year-olds are top NHL prospects heading into this weekend’s NHL Draft in Las Vegas and working through the pressures of draft eligibility together at RINK Hockey Academy in Kelowna. Jarome Iginla coaches the academy’s U18 team — including his son Joe, who made his WHL debut as a 15-year-old this season — while Byron Ritchie works with players at all levels as a skills development coach.
So when Iginla watched Ryder’s shifts in late November, he came back with a simple suggestion: Turn off your brain.
“As a guy who loves to score and wants to score, it’s all you think about when you’re not doing it,” Ryder says. “’Oh, I haven’t scored in six games,’ and then, ‘Oh no, it’s been seven now.’
“So I’m sitting at home eating dinner and I can’t stop thinking about getting that goal.”
Then Iginla called and told Ryder to do something to take his mind off hockey. “Don’t think about the game,” he told him. “Read. Go for a movie. Just be a kid. Get away from things for a bit.’”
Though he was a fearsome power forward during his playing days, Iginla takes a patient, measured approach to developing young players — including his sons Joe and Tij, and his daughter, Jade, all high-level hockey prospects.
“It’s hard when you’re in it as a player,” Iginla says. “You want to just work harder, work harder. Just keep pushing, you know, break through. But sometimes the best thing is to find something else. Give your brain a rest.”
Iginla and his family settled in Boston after his Hall of Fame playing career concluded in 2017.
With three young children, all ambitious athletes, sports were the primary factor in their decision. Boston had more options for high-level baseball and hockey with easier travel. And just as his children got more into hockey, Jarome found an outlet that helped him adjust to life after the NHL.
“You’ve heard it lots from retired players, but it’s a big adjustment to go from playing and all that comes with it,” he says. “Having to be everywhere, getting to enjoy the competition, and the energy of the game and the wins and losses and just being around the game. It was a big adjustment that first year, but being able to coach really helped.”
While Jade played prep hockey and eventually headed to Shattuck St. Mary’s in Minnesota, Jarome became a co-coach for Tij and Joe’s hockey teams.
In the summers, Iginla will rent ice for his three children: Tij, pictured here with his dad, Joe and Jade. (Courtesy of Jarome Iginla)
“Every night we had a practice or a game, so that kept me busy and kept me part of it,” Iginla says. “I love the game and it was nice to be able to share that, yes with my own kids, but it was also competitive hockey, so it gave me a chance to share it with other kids that want to get better and are into it.”
Eventually, the lure of moving back to Western Canada took hold. Jade was being recruited to play Division 1 college hockey. His sons were serious about pursuing an NHL path, and Jarome wanted them to play in Canada’s Western Hockey League.
“You know our job as parents is to try and help them,” Iginla says, “but also to make sure they keep their options open with their schooling. We believe, though, that if you want it, you work towards it and give it your best shot.”
The combination of significant ice time for aspiring athletes and the educational side of it in the Western Canadian Academy system appealed to the Iginlas.
“So I spoke with Byron, and we took the opportunity,” Iginla says.
Working together came naturally for the former NHL teammates.
“We go back 30 freaking years,” Ritchie says, noting that they had played U17 hockey together.
“You always have that kind of connection with your teammates. And then you have kids one day apart, right? … We just kept in touch.”
The Iginlas enrolled all three kids at RINK, and Jarome joined the academy as a youth coach and began working with his former teammate. Meanwhile, Tij joined a U18 team and played on a line with Ryder.
“Byron and Jarome are so in tune with trying to develop the modern hockey player,” says RINK executive director Mako Balkovec. “The fact that they have kids here too gives them a vested interest and I think it’s why they bring a certain joy in working with other players, too.
“Byron is very intense, similar to the type of player he was. He’s into it, very demanding. And it shows in how his teams play. And then for the kids, once they get past the — ‘Oh, wow, that’s Jarome Iginla’ — of it, he’s so invested in working with young players. It’s just an incredible opportunity.”
In the winters, especially when Iginla was still playing in Calgary, he’d come home after games and flood his backyard to maintain a rink for his children.
“It was pretty peaceful,” he recalls. “I’d get back at midnight, coming off the road, the stars are out and it’s so quiet out there. Then once you start putting the water on, you start to take pride in it. Make sure it’s not bumpy, make sure the kids don’t complain. It was actually a good stress reliever.”
In the summers, and to this day, Jarome will rent ice for himself and his three children. They’ll run drills, do some skills work, and then play two-on-two.
The teams are always the same: Jarome and his youngest son, Joe, against Jade and Tij.
“In the winter outdoors, we’d play two-on-two all the time, no goalie, so you have to go bar down, and me and Jade are always a team against Joe and Dad,” Tij recalls.
“Usually me and Jade won,” Tij adds confidently. “Our record was pretty good.”
Tij and Ryder, who were born one day apart in the summer of 2006, share a high-octane pace and highly skilled play style. (Courtesy of Jarome Iginla)
“For a long time, I was able to manipulate who wins, just try a little harder, try a little less, and share the wins around because the kids would get so mad,” Iginla says.
“Then … Jade and Tij started getting better. Near the end there, Tij was 14 and Jade was 16 and I couldn’t control it anymore. I wasn’t as good in tight spaces anymore. People would say ‘What do you mean, you can’t beat them?’ Well, come on, I couldn’t body check them! And Tij and Jade were just too good in those tight spaces.
“I’d start coming in at the end of the day and Joe would be so mad that we hadn’t won in a while, and now my wife, Kara, is mad at me, like ‘Why aren’t you ever winning?’ and I’d have to tell her ‘I’m trying!’”
What started as a pair of former NHLers and committed hockey dads coaching their own kids has evolved into something more.
Tij and Ryder share a high-octane pace and highly skilled play style. It’s partly why Tij, ranked as the ninth-best North American skater by NHL Central Scouting ahead of the draft, is considered a likely top-10 pick. Ryder should hear his name called late in the first round or early in the second.
“Growing up and as you get older, coaches tighten it up a little,” Tij says, “but my dad and Byron have a good understanding of development. You might make the odd mistake, but what matters is hustling back when you do.
“That’s the thing about my dad. He looks at what’s changed in the game. He’s not stuck in any old-school ways. He’s always on his iPad looking at stuff, looking at new drills and skills.”
That’s another shared trait between the two dads. Their active group chat with RINK staff includes tons of clips from all levels of hockey, a flowing and constant conversation about the game’s evolution, new drills, debating the value of the newest fad in skills development.
Byron, for example, honed his approach as a skills coach in conversation with his CAA colleague Jim Hughes.
In addition to his work at RINK, Byron Ritchie leads recruiting and player development in Western Canada for CAA. (Courtesy of Byron Ritchie)
“I think small-area games, not just two-on-two cross-ice, but there’s a lot of different small-area games and competitive small-area games where players have to turn their brains on to find open ice,” he says. “Put nets in odd places, crazy things like that, three-on-twos and four-on-threes and the offensive team is outnumbered. Those tweaks, I think, help trigger the brains of skilled players and challenge them to make plays and find space.”
Ultimately the impact of the Iginla-Ritchie partnership at RINK Hockey Academy has expanded beyond the development of their own sons. At this point, some of the most intriguing young players on the continent — including probable 2026 first overall pick Gavin McKenna and Wisconsin-bound offensive defender Chloe Primerano, probably the best women’s hockey prospect to ever come out of Western Canada — are training at RINK and billeting with the Ritchie family.
“He pushes me, and I love it,” says McKenna of the relationship he’s built with Ritchie. “He’s my agent, he’s been my coach, I live here during the summer. He’s been through it all himself, so he’s helped me understand how hard I need to work, even how I have to eat, to get to where I want to go.”
The draft is the culmination of a long-held dream for top hockey players and their families, but it also represents the beginning of the journey.
For Ryder and Tij, and their dads, however, there’s also a sense of relief that will come with the start of a new chapter.
“It’s a lot of pressure in your draft year and I remember it well,” Jarome says. “When you’re getting drafted it’s a unique thing, because you’re constantly getting critiqued and everyone is watching and judging. It’s part of the game, but in your draft year, it just feels like everything is magnified.
“Both Ryder and Tij have done a good job at it, but it’s nice as a parent to know that they’re almost through it.”
(Illustration: Dan Goldfarb / The Athletic; photos: Jonathan Kozub, Dale Preston / Getty Images)
Culture
What Happens When We Die? This Wallace Stevens Poem Has Thoughts.
Whatever you do, don’t think of a bird.
Now: What kind of bird are you not thinking about? A pigeon? A bald eagle? Something more poetic, like a skylark or a nightingale? In any case, would you say that this bird you aren’t thinking about is real?
Before you answer, read this poem, which is quite literally about not thinking of a bird.
Human consciousness is full of riddles. Neuroscientists, philosophers and dorm-room stoners argue continually about what it is and whether it even exists. For Wallace Stevens, the experience of having a mind was a perpetual source of wonder, puzzlement and delight — perfectly ordinary and utterly transcendent at the same time. He explored the mysteries and pleasures of consciousness in countless poems over the course of his long poetic career. It was arguably his great theme.
Stevens was born in 1879 and published his first book, “Harmonium,” in 1923, making him something of a late bloomer among American modernists. For much of his adult life, he worked as an executive for the Hartford Accident and Indemnity Company, rising to the rank of vice president. He viewed insurance less as a day job to support his poetry than as a parallel vocation. He pursued both activities with quiet diligence, spending his days at the office and composing poems in his head as he walked to and from work.
As a young man, Stevens dreamed of traveling to Europe, though he never crossed the Atlantic. In middle age he made regular trips to Florida, and his poems are frequently infused with ideas of Paris and Rome and memories of Key West. Others partake of the stringent beauty of New England. But the landscapes he explores, wintry or tropical, provincial or cosmopolitan, are above all mental landscapes, created by and in the imagination.
Are those worlds real?
Let’s return to the palm tree and its avian inhabitant, in that tranquil Key West sunset of the mind.
Until then, we find consolation in fangles.
Culture
Wil Wheaton Discusses ‘Stand By Me’ and Narrating ‘The Body’ Audiobook
When the director Rob Reiner cast his leads in the 1986 film “Stand by Me,” he looked for young actors who were as close as possible to the personalities of the four children they’d be playing. There was the wise beyond his years kid from a rough family (River Phoenix), the slightly dim worrywart (Jerry O’Connell), the cutup with a temper (Corey Feldman) and the sensitive, bookish boy.
Wil Wheaton was perfect for that last one, Gordie Lachance, a doe-eyed child who is ignored by his family in favor of his late older brother. Now, 40 years later, he’s traveling the country to attend anniversary screenings of the film, alongside O’Connell and Feldman, which has thrown him back into the turmoil that he felt as an adolescent.
Wheaton has channeled those emotions and his on-set memories into his latest project: narrating a new audiobook version of “The Body,” the 1982 Stephen King novella on which the film was based.
A few years ago, Wheaton started to float the idea of returning to the story that gave him his big break — that of a quartet of boys in 1959 Oregon, in their last days before high school, setting out to find a classmate’s dead body. “I’ve been telling the story of ‘Stand By Me’ since I was 12 years old,” he said.
But this time was different. Wheaton, who has narrated dozens of audiobooks, including Andy Weir’s “The Martian” and Ernest Cline’s “Ready Player One,” says he has come to enjoy narration more than screen acting. “I’m safe, I’m in the booth, nobody’s looking at me and I can just tell you a story.”
The fact that he, an older man looking back on his younger years, is narrating a story about an older man looking back on his younger years, is not lost on Wheaton. King’s original story is bathed in nostalgia. Coming to terms with death and loss is one of its primary themes.
Two days after appearing on stage at the Academy Awards as part of a tribute to Reiner — who was murdered in 2025 alongside his wife, Michele — Wheaton got on the phone to talk about recording the audiobook, reliving his favorite scenes from the film and reexamining a quintessential story of childhood loss through the lens of his own.
This interview has been edited and condensed.
“I felt really close to him, and my memory of him.”
Wheaton on channeling a co-star’s performance.
There’s this wonderful scene in “Stand By Me.” Gordie and Chris are walking down the tracks talking about junior high. Chris is telling Gordie, “I wish to hell I was your dad, because I care about you, and he obviously doesn’t.”
It’s just so honest and direct, in a way that kids talk to each other that adults don’t. And I think that one of the reasons that really sticks with people, and that piece really lands on a lot of audiences, and has for 40 years, is, just too many people have been Gordie in that scene.
That scene is virtually word for word taken from the text of the book. And when I was narrating that, I made a deliberate choice to do my best to recreate what River did in that scene.
“You’re just a kid,
Gordie–”
“I wish to fuck
I was your father!”
he said angrily.
“You wouldn’t go around
talking about takin those stupid shop courses if I was!
It’s like
God gave you something,
all those stories
you can make up, and He said:
This is what we got for you, kid.
Try not to lose it.
But kids lose everything
unless somebody looks out for them and if your folks
are too fucked up to do it
then maybe I ought to.”
I watched that scene a couple of times because I really wanted — I don’t know why it was so important to me to — well, I know: because I loved him, and I miss him. And I wanted to bring him into this as best as I could, right?
So I was reading that scene, and the words are identical to the script. And I had this very powerful flashback to being on the train tracks that day in Cottage Grove, Oregon. And I could see River standing next to them. They’re shooting my side of the scene and there’s River, right next to the camera, doing his off-camera dialogue, and there’s the sound guy, and there’s the boom operator. There’s my key light.
I could hear and feel it. It was the weirdest thing. It’s like I was right back there.
I was able to really take in the emotional memory of being Gordie in all of those scenes. So when I was narrating him and I’m me and I’m old with all of this experience, I just drew on what I remembered from being that little boy and what I remember of those friendships and what they meant to me and what they mean to me today.
“Rob gave me a gift. Rob gave me a career.”
Wheaton recalls the “Stand By Me” director’s way with kids on set, as well as his recent Oscars tribute.
Rob really encouraged us to be kids.
Jerry tells the most amazing story about that scene, where we were all sitting around, and doing our bit, and he improvised. He was just goofing around — we were just playing — and he said something about spitting water at the fat kid.
We get to the end of the scene, and he hears Rob. Rob comes around from behind the thing, and he goes, “Jerry!” And Jerry thinks, “Oh no, I’m in trouble. I’m in trouble because I improvised, and I’m not supposed to improvise.”
The context for Jerry is that he had been told by the adults in his life, “Sit on your hands and shut up. Stop trying to be a cutup. Stop trying to be funny. Stop disrupting people. Just be quiet.” And Jerry thinks, “Oh my God. I didn’t shut up. I’m in trouble. I’m gonna get fired.”
Rob leans in to all of us, and Rob says, “Hey, guys, do you see that? More of that. Do that!”
The whole time when you’re a kid actor, you’re just around all these adults who are constantly telling you to grow up. They’re mad that you’re being a kid. Rob just created an environment where not only was it supported that we would be kids — and have fun, and follow those kid instincts and do what was natural — it was expected. It was encouraged. We were supposed to do it.
They chanted together:
“I don’t shut up,
I grow up.
And when I look at you I throw up.”
“Then your mother goes around the corner
and licks it up,”
I said, and hauled ass out of there,
giving them the finger over my shoulder as I went.
I never had any friends later on
like the ones I had when I was twelve.
Jesus, did you?
When we were at the Oscars, I looked at Jerry. And we looked at this remarkable assemblage of the most amazingly talented, beautiful artists and storytellers. We looked around, and Jerry leans down, and he said, “We all got our start with Rob Reiner. He trusted every single one of us.”
And to stand there for him, when I really thought that I would be standing with him to talk about this stuff — it was a lot.
“I was really really really excited — like jumping up and down.”
The scene Wheaton was most looking forward to narrating: the tale of Lard Ass Hogan.
I was so excited to narrate it. It’s a great story! It’s a funny story. It’s such a lovely break — it’s an emotional and tonal shift from what’s happening in the movie.
I know this as a writer: You work to increase and release tension throughout a narrative, and Stephen King uses humor really effectively to release that tension. But it also raises the stakes, because we have these moments of joy and these moments of things being very silly in the midst of a lot of intensity.
That’s why the story of Lard Ass Hogan is so fun for me to tell. Because in the middle of that, we stop to do something that’s very, very fun, and very silly and very celebratory.
“Will you shut up and let him tell it?”
Teddy hollered.
Vern blinked.
“Sure. Yeah.
Okay.”
“Go on, Gordie,”
Chris said. “It’s not really much—”
“Naw,
we don’t expect much from a wet end like you,”
Teddy said,
“but tell it anyway.”
I cleared my throat. “So anyway.
It’s Pioneer Days,
and on the last night
they have these three big events.
There’s an egg-roll for the little kids and a sack-race for kids that are like eight or nine,
and then there’s the pie-eating contest.
And the main guy of the story
is this fat kid nobody likes
named Davie Hogan.”
When I narrate this story — whenever there is a moment of levity or humor, whenever there are those brief little moments that are the seasoning of the meal that makes it all so real and relatable — yes, it was very important to me to capture those moments.
I’m shifting in my chair, so I can feel each of those characters. It’s something that doesn’t exist in live action. It doesn’t exist in any other media.
“I feel the loss.”
Wheaton remembers River Phoenix.
The novella “The Body” is very much about Gordie remembering Chris. It’s darker, and it’s more painful, than the movie is.
I’ve been watching the movie on this tour and seeing River a lot. I remember him as a 14- and 15-year-old kid who just seemed so much older, and so much more experienced and so much wiser than me, and I’m only a year younger than him.
What hurts me now, and what I really felt when I was narrating this, is knowing what River was going through then. We didn’t know. I still don’t know the extent of how he was mistreated, but I know that he was. I know that adults failed him. That he should have been protected in every way that matters. And he just wasn’t.
And I, like Gordie, remember a boy who was loving. So loving, and generous and cared deeply about everyone around him, all the time. Who deserved to live a full life. Who had so much to offer the world. And it’s so unfair that he’s gone and taken from us. I had to go through a decades-long grieving process to come to terms with him dying.
Near the end
of 1971,
Chris
went into a Chicken Delight in Portland
to get a three-piece Snack Bucket.
Just ahead of him,
two men started arguing
about which one had been first in line. One of them pulled a knife.
Chris,
who had always been the best of us
at making peace,
stepped between them and was stabbed in the throat.
The man with the knife had spent time in four different institutions;
he had been released from Shawshank State Prison
only the week before.
Chris died almost instantly.
It is a privilege that I was allowed to tell this story. I get to tell Gordie Lachance’s story as originally imagined by Stephen King, with all of the experience of having lived my whole adult life with the memory of spending three months in Gordie Lachance’s skin.
Culture
Do You Know the Comics That Inspired These TV Adventures?
Welcome to Great Adaptations, the Book Review’s regular multiple-choice quiz about printed works that have gone on to find new life as movies, television shows, theatrical productions and more. This week’s challenge highlights offbeat television shows that began as comic books. Just tap or click your answers to the five questions below. And scroll down after you finish the last question for links to the comics and their screen versions.
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