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NHL legacies and hockey dads: How Jarome Iginla and Byron Ritchie are preparing for the draft

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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.

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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.

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“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.

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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.

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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.

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“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.

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“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!’”

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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.

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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.

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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)

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Finding Wisdom in a Poem by Wendy Cope

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Finding Wisdom in a Poem by Wendy Cope

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Where do you turn when you need advice? A chatbot? A life coach? A wise and trusted friend?

How about a poet? Poets may not be famous for making the best life choices, but because they subject the mess of human existence to the discipline of language, they can be as helpful as any therapist or mentor.

Good poets know the rules and when to break them, which is something they can teach the rest of us.

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To wit:

Giving advice is a peculiar literary undertaking. It flourishes in certain popular genres — graduation speeches, newspaper columns, country and western songs and poems like this one — but what, in these contexts, is it really for?

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I’m thinking of situations when you don’t urgently need help but nonetheless enjoy reading answers to questions you may not have thought to ask. What interests you isn’t the content of the advice — you could get all the life hacks you want from A.I. — so much as the voice of the person dispensing it.

Wendy Cope is an English poet, born in 1945, who has been a fixture of her country’s literary scene since the 1980s. More recently, her short, buoyant poem “The Orange” has been widely memed online, bringing her to the attention of new readers beyond Britain.

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Cope favors rhyme, meter, brisk jokes and tart aperçus. She addresses romance, friendship and the petty absurdities of modern life with disarming good humor. The last line of “The Orange” is “I love you. I’m glad I exist.” Somehow she makes it the opposite of cringe.

This isn’t the kind of poetry you would describe as “confessional.” And yet …

Want to learn this poem by heart? We’ll help.

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Fill in the missing words below. You can always refer to the reading by A.O. Scott and full
text above.

Question 1/7

Let’s start with the first stanza.

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Stop, if the car is going clunk 

Or if the sun has made you blind. 

Dont answer emails when youre drunk. 

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Tap a word above to fill in the highlighted blank.

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Can You Match the Places These Authors Lived With Settings in Their Books?

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Can You Match the Places These Authors Lived With Settings in Their Books?

A strong sense of place can deeply influence a story, and in some cases, the setting can even feel like a character itself. This week’s literary geography quiz highlights places where authors were born (or lived) that later became locations in their books. To play, just make your selection in the multiple-choice list and the correct answer will be revealed. At the end of the quiz, you’ll find links to the works if you’d like to do further reading.

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Book Review: ‘America, U.S.A.,’ by Eddie S. Glaude Jr.

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Book Review: ‘America, U.S.A.,’ by Eddie S. Glaude Jr.

AMERICA, U.S.A.: How Race Shadows the Nation’s Anniversaries, by Eddie S. Glaude Jr.


For those of us in the national memory-keeping business, anniversaries hold near-totemic power. Satisfyingly round units of time, ideally bearing fancy, Latin-derived names, serve as the overburdened pegs on which to hang think pieces and museum exhibits, revisionist documentaries and maudlin public ceremonies. The arbitrary nature of such occasions is precisely what gives them their charge, inviting us to set aside complacency and submit to a comprehensive check-in.

In his new book, “America, U.S.A.,” Eddie S. Glaude Jr. presents an intriguing variation on the genre, seeing the country’s 250th birthday as an anniversary of anniversaries: 50 years since the malaise-ridden, schlock-heavy Bicentennial. A century since the subdued Prohibition-era Sesquicentennial. A century and a half since telegraphed reports of George Armstrong Custer’s defeat by the Lakota and Cheyenne at Little Bighorn rudely interrupted the Gilded Age Republic’s 100th birthday party.

If an anniversary offers a snapshot of a moment, the core of Glaude’s book is an old-timey photo album, a collection of notable episodes from earlier national reckonings, long-ago glances in the mirror. An estimable scholar of Black history, politics and religion at Princeton — best known for “Begin Again,” his 2020 meditation on James Baldwin’s relevance for our times — Glaude focuses, as his subtitle puts it, on “how race shadows the nation’s anniversaries.”

Such celebrations, he contends, have never really been the moments for honest self-reflection they are often advertised to be. Instead, the nation usually shatters the mirror, refusing to accept what it prefers not to see. “American anniversaries are often moments to turn a blind eye to the evils of the past and the present,” Glaude writes, “to suppress the fact of America’s divided soul.”

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It’s a clever concept, and, needless to say, perfectly timed. Last year, Glaude notes, the Trump administration executed a hostile takeover of the government’s studiously bipartisan 250th anniversary planning. It is now preparing a program that is certain to conceal more than it reveals about the country ostensibly being celebrated.

Glaude, in no mood for celebration, argues that such omissions and evasions also defined commemorations in the past. In 1875, Frederick Douglass predicted “one grand Centennial hosannah of peace and good will to all the white race of this country.” He was right: The nation reached 100 years old at a crucial moment in the post-Civil War fight over racial equality, with white Northerners ready to give up on Southern Reconstruction. The occasion would help the once-warring sections to reunite around a shared commitment to white supremacy. On May 10, 1876, at the opening of the Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia, the police tried to bar Douglass from the grandstand, until a white politician vouched for him.

The 150th anniversary came soon after a resurgent Ku Klux Klan successfully pushed for a restrictive immigration law aimed at keeping America a “Nordic” nation. At the lavishly funded, lightly attended celebrations in Philadelphia, Black veterans of World War I were excluded from marching in the opening parade. A writer with The Associated Negro Press wondered “what was in the breast of those black men who fought to make America safe for Democracy and on Monday stood on the sidelines, forgotten, as the Nordic strode by in all his vain pride.”

By 1976, when the nation marked its Bicentennial, the violence of the ’60s had destroyed any semblance of consensus. Vietnam and Watergate had eroded trust in the government. The commission initially tasked with organizing the anniversary was disbanded amid reports of corruption. Corporations filled the vacuum, Glaude explains, with “star-spangled whoopee cushions; patriotic toilet seats; Liberty hamburgers; red, white and blue beer cans.” The author, around 8 years old at the time, dimly remembers donning a pair of tricolor trousers.

A half-century later, Glaude is refreshingly honest about the depths of his despair. “I do not love America, and never have, especially now,” he writes in one of the more startling opening sentences I’ve read in some time. He dismisses this year’s Semiquincentennial as reaching back “to a storybook America that requires either the banishment of Black people from view or the reduction of our role in the country’s history, so as to affirm America’s ongoing quest to be a more perfect union.”

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Undoubtedly true. But Trump doesn’t own the country, at least not yet, nor the 250th anniversary of one of the most radically liberatory and confusingly contradictory events in world history — an inspiration, as Glaude shows, even to critical observers of the American experiment, like Douglass. Far from the revanchist MAGA-palooza in Washington, I suspect this summer’s unasked-for invitation to national soul-searching may surprise us yet.

Despite his despair, Glaude concludes that “the past still offers resources for us to freedom-dream.” So, too, does this book.


AMERICA, U.S.A.: How Race Shadows the Nation’s Anniversaries | By Eddie S. Glaude Jr. | Crown | 270 pp. | $31

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