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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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This Poem About Monet’s “Water Lilies” Reflects on the Powers and Limits of Art

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This Poem About Monet’s “Water Lilies” Reflects on the Powers and Limits of Art

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In the midst of the world’s unrelenting horribleness, it’s important to make room for beauty. True! But also something of a truism, an idea that comes to hand a little too easily to be trusted. The proclamation that art matters — that, in difficult times, it helps — can sound like a shopworn self-care mantra.

So instead of musing on generalities, maybe we should focus our attention on a particular aesthetic experience. Instead of declaring the importance of art, we could look at a painting. Or we could read a poem.

A poem, as it happens, about looking at a painting.

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Hayden did not take the act of seeing for granted. His eyesight was so poor that he described himself as “purblind”; as a child he was teased for his thick-framed glasses. Monet’s Giverny paintings, whose blurriness is sometimes ascribed to the painter’s cataracts, may have revealed to the poet not so much a new way of looking as one that he already knew.

Read in isolation, this short poem might seem to celebrate — and to exemplify — an art divorced from politics. Monet’s depiction of his garden, like the garden itself, offers a refuge from the world.

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Claude Monet in his garden in 1915.

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“Ceux de Chez Nous,” by Sacha Guitry, via Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

But “Selma” and “Saigon” don’t just represent headlines to be pushed aside on the way to the museum. They point toward the turmoil that preoccupied the poetry of Hayden and many of his contemporaries.

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“Monet’s ‘Waterlilies’” was published in a 1970 collection called “Words in the Mourning Time.” The title poem is an anguished response to the assassinations of Robert F. Kennedy and the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., and to the deepening quagmire in Vietnam. Another poem in the volume is a long elegy for Malcolm X. Throughout his career (he died in 1980, at 66), Hayden returned frequently to the struggles and tragedies of Black Americans, including his own family.

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Robert Hayden in 1971.

Jack Stubbs/The Ann Arbor News, via MLive

Born in Detroit in 1913, Hayden, the first Black American to hold the office now known as poet laureate of the United States, was part of a generation of poets — Gwendolyn Brooks, Dudley Randall, Margaret Danner and others — who came of age between the Harlem Renaissance of the 1920s and the Black Arts movement of the ’60s.

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A poet of modernist sensibilities and moderate temperament, he didn’t adopt the revolutionary rhetoric of the times, and was criticized by some of his more radical peers for the quietness of his voice and the formality of his diction.

But his contemplative style makes room for passion.

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Frankenstein’s Many Adaptations Over the Years

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Frankenstein’s Many Adaptations Over the Years

Ever since the mad scientist Frankenstein cried, “It’s alive!” in the 1931 classic film directed by James Whale, pop culture has never been the same.

Few works of fiction have inspired more adaptations, re-imaginings, parodies and riffs than Mary Shelley’s tragic 1818 Gothic novel, “Frankenstein; or, the Modern Prometheus,” the tale of Victor Frankenstein, who, in his crazed quest to create life, builds a grotesque creature that he rejects immediately.

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The story was first borrowed for the screen in 1910 — in a single-reel silent — and has directly or indirectly spawned hundreds of movies and TV shows in many genres. Each one, including Guillermo del Toro’s new “Frankenstein,” streaming on Netflix, comes with the same unspoken agreement: that we collectively share a core understanding of the legend.

Here’s a look at the many ways the central themes that Shelley explored, as she provocatively plumbed the human condition, have been examined and repurposed time and again onscreen.

“I will pioneer a new way, explore unknown powers, and unfold to the world the deepest mysteries of creation.”— Victor Frankenstein, Chapter 3

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The Mad-Scientist Creator

Shelley was profuse in her descriptions of the scientist’s relentless mind-set as he pursued his creation, his fixation on generating life blinding him to all the ramifications.

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Sound familiar? Perhaps no single line in cinema has distilled this point better than in the 1993 blockbuster “Jurassic Park,” when Dr. Ian Malcolm tells John Hammond, the eccentric C.E.O. with a God complex, “Your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could that they didn’t stop to think if they should.”

Among the beloved interpretations that offer a maniacal, morally muddled scientist is “The Curse of Frankenstein” (1957), the first in the Hammer series.

“Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein” (1994), directed by Kenneth Branagh, is generally considered the most straightforward adaptation of the book.

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More inventive variations include the flamboyant Dr. Frank-N-Furter, who creates a “perfect man” in the 1975 camp favorite “The Rocky Horror Picture Show.”

In Alex Garland’s 2015 thriller, “Ex Machina,” a reclusive, self-obsessed C.E.O. builds a bevy of female-like humanoids.

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And in the 1985 horror comedy “Re-Animator,” a medical student develops a substance that revives dead tissue.

Then there are the 1971 Italian gothic “Lady Frankenstein” and the 2023 thriller “Birth/Rebirth,” in which the madman is in fact a madwoman.

“With an anxiety that almost amounted to agony, I collected the instruments of life around me, that I might infuse a spark of being into the lifeless thing that lay at my feet.”— Victor Frankenstein, Chapter 5

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The Moment of Reanimation

Shelley is surprisingly vague about how her scientist actually accomplishes his task, leaving remarkable room for interpretation. In a conversation with The New York Times, del Toro explained that he had embraced this ambiguity as an opportunity for imagination, saying, “I wanted to detail every anatomical step I could in how he put the creature together.”

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Filmmakers have reimagined reanimation again and again. See Mel Brooks’s affectionate 1974 spoof, “Young Frankenstein,” which stages that groundbreaking scene from Whale’s first movie in greater detail.

Other memorable Frankensteinian resurrections include the 1987 sci-fi action movie “RoboCop,” when a murdered police officer is rebooted as a computerized cyborg law enforcer.

In the 2012 Tim Burton animated “Frankenweenie,” a young scientist revives his beloved dog by harnessing lighting.

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And in the 2019 psychologically bleak thriller “Depraved,” an Army surgeon, grappling with trauma, pieces together a bundle of body parts known as Adam.

“Accursed creator! Why did you form a monster so hideous that even you turned from me in disgust?”— The creature, Chapter 15

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The Wretched Creature

In Shelley’s telling, the creature has yellow skin, flowing black hair, white teeth and watery eyes, and speaks eloquently, but is otherwise unimaginably repulsive, allowing us to fill in the blanks. Del Toro envisions an articulate, otherworldly being with no stitches, almost like a stone sculpture.

It was Whale’s 1931 “Frankenstein” — based on a 1927 play by Peggy Webling — and his 1935 “Bride of Frankenstein” that have perhaps shaped the story’s legacy more than the novel. Only loosely tethered to the original text, these films introduced the imagery that continues to prevail: a lumbering monster with a block head and neck bolts, talking like a caveman.

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In Tim Burton’s 1990 modern fairy tale “Edward Scissorhands,” a tender humanoid remains unfinished when its creator dies, leaving it with scissor-bladed prototypes for hands.

In David Cronenberg’s 1986 body horror, “The Fly,” a scientist deteriorates slowly into a grotesque insectlike monster after his experiment goes wrong.

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In the 1973 blaxploitation “Blackenstein,” a Vietnam veteran who lost his limbs gets new ones surgically attached in a procedure that is sabotaged.

Conversely, in some films, the mad scientist’s experiment results in a thing of beauty: as in “Ex Machina” and Pedro Almodóvar’s 2011 thriller, “The Skin I Live In,” in which an obsessive plastic surgeon keeps a beautiful woman imprisoned in his home.

And in Yorgos Lanthimos’s 2023 sci-fi dramedy, “Poor Things,” a Victorian-era woman is brought back to life after her brain is swapped with that of a fetus.

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“I am an unfortunate and deserted creature; I look around, and I have no relation or friend upon earth.”— The creature, Chapter 15

The All-Consuming Isolation

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The creature in “Frankenstein” has become practically synonymous with the concept of isolation: a beast so tortured by its own existence, so ghastly it repels any chance of connection, that it’s hopelessly adrift and alone.

What’s easily forgotten in Shelley’s tale is that Victor is also destroyed by profound isolation, though his is a prison of his own making. Unlike most takes on the story, there is no Igor-like sidekick present for the monster’s creation. Victor works in seclusion and protects his horrible secret, making him complicit in the demise of everyone he loves.

The theme of the creator or the creation wallowing in isolation, physically and emotionally, is present across adaptations. In Steven Spielberg’s 2001 adventure, “A.I. Artificial Intelligence,” a family adopts, then abandons a sentient humanoid robot boy programmed to love.

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In the 2003 psychological horror “May,” a lonely woman with a lazy eye who was ostracized growing up resolves to make her own friend, literally.

And in the 1995 Japanese animated cyberpunk “Ghost in the Shell,” a first-of-its-kind cyborg with a human soul struggles with its place amid humanity.

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“Shall each man find a wife for his bosom, and each beast have his mate, and I be alone?”— The creature, Chapter 20

The Desperate Need for Companionship

In concert with themes of isolation, the creators and creations contend with the idea of companionship in most “Frankenstein”-related tales — whether romantic, familial or societal.

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In the novel, Victor’s family and his love interest, Elizabeth, are desperate for him to return from his experiments and rejoin their lives. When the creature demands a romantic partner and Victor reneges, the creature escalates a vengeful rampage.

That subplot is the basis for Whale’s “The Bride of Frankenstein,” which does offer a partner, though there is no happily ever after for either.

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Sometimes the monster finds love with a human, as in “Edward Scissorhands” or the 2024 horror romance “Lisa Frankenstein,” in which a woman falls for a reanimated 19th-century corpse.

In plenty of other adaptations, the mission is to restore a companion who once was. In the 1990 black comedy “Frankenhooker,” a science whiz uses the body parts of streetwalkers to bring back his fiancée, also Elizabeth, after she is chewed up by a lawn mower.

In John Hughes’s 1985 comedy, “Weird Science,” a couple of nerdy teenage boys watch Whale’s 1931 classic and decide to create a beautiful woman to elevate their social standing.

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While the plot can skew sexual — as with “The Rocky Horror Picture Show,” “Ex Machina” and “Frankenhooker” — it can also skew poignant. In the 1991 sci-fi action blockbuster “Terminator 2: Judgment Day,” a fatherlike bond forms between a troubled teenage boy and the cyborg sent to protect him.

Or the creature may be part of a wholesome, albeit freakish, family, most famously in the hit 1960s shows “The Addams Family,” with Lurch as the family’s block-headed butler, and “The Munsters,” with Herman Munster as a nearly identical replica of Whale’s creature.

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In Shelley’s novel, the creature devotes itself to secretly observing the blind man and his family as they bond over music and stories. While sitcom families like the Munsters and the Addamses may seem silly by comparison, it’s a life that Shelley’s creature could only have dreamed of — and in fact did.

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Test Your Knowledge of Family-History Novels That Were Adapted as Movies or TV Series

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Test Your Knowledge of Family-History Novels That Were Adapted as Movies or TV Series

“Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West,” Gregory Maguire’s 1995 novel, has been adapted into a stage musical that was itself made into a two-part feature film. In all versions, what is the name of the witch Elphaba’s younger sister, whom she accompanies to Shiz University?

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