Following the success of the gay hockey romance smash-hit “Heated Rivalry” show adaptation, fans flocked to read the rest of the books in the “Game Changers” series. “Heated Rivalry” promised fans engaging and deep queer stories. Stories that would inspire and give us hope for our futures, especially during a time when queer people are considering going back in the closet for safety. We want stories that reflect our experiences, but end with joy. But do the books live up to the hype of the show?
Not exactly.
Author Rachel Reid started the series in 2018. There are six books in the “Game Changers” series, with a seventh set to be released in 2027. Reid’s writing has grown a lot over the years; this is very clear when comparing the first book “Game Changer” from 2018 and the third book “Tough Guy” from 2022.
The main problem while reading “Game Changer” is the pacing. Christopher “Kip” Grady, a guy who makes smoothies, and Scott Hunter, a hockey player, meet while Kip is working. This happens on page nine. After that, they interact three more times and, for the first time, have sex on page 57. Then, their secret relationship spans 217 pages until finally hitting a climax on page 274. What do they do for over 200 pages? Have lots and lots of sex. And unfortunately, they repeat the same conflict over and over again.
The book tries to build this conflict, but it’s almost given too much space to do so. Kip will hang out with Scott, and something Scott says, whether it’s his own feelings or an event, will affect Kip in a negative way. Kip will verbalize his doubts, then Scott will reassure him or re-explain why their relationship must be a secret. The book, and thus their relationship, is stuck between the cycle of harm and repair for 200 pages.
Eventually, Kip’s negative thoughts boil over, and he communicates that to Scott. Scott doesn’t acknowledge those feelings in a way that matters; Scott asked Kip to stay after an event that made Scott anxious, but buried himself in his work for 26 pages, leaving Kip alone and stuck.
This turn in their relationship sours everything that had been built to the reader. We understand why this is happening, because Scott and Kip (and Rachel Reid) are telling us why, but that doesn’t make the situation alright. Reid had over 200 pages to establish their relationship, have the conflict grow exponentially, and show us why the characters are in this state. She had plenty of space to make Kip’s loneliness and exhaustion clear in a way where Scott wasn’t directly tied to Kip’s sadness. Having Scott beg Kip to stay and then Scott going away for his games is an asshole move, whether his anxiety is explained to us or not. That split needs to have enough emotional buildup for it to matter, or the pacing needs to adjust for this knowledge.
The TV show adaptation adjusts the pacing by picking key character moments between Kip and Scott, and erases the filler from the book. The scene featuring the Equinox Gala, a charity banquet featured Elena, Kip’s friend, requesting a dance from Scott. She used this time to have a serious conversation with him. Elena explicitly explained Kip’s feelings to Scott. Scott had no idea, and while he tried to explain himself, this information helped him make future decisions. This scene moves the story forward. Since Kip couldn’t be honest about his feelings, Elena did it for him.
But in the book, this conversation doesn’t tell Scott or the reader anything new. Book Elena danced with Scott to see if Scott actually cared about Kip and their relationship. While it makes sense for that point in the story, it lessens the importance of the scene. We know Scott legitimately cares for Kip by this point; we don’t need this information to be repeated to us. It doesn’t matter how much Scott cares about Kip, if Kip is being harmed by the secrecy.
Just because the relationship becomes stagnant doesn’t the conflict and intrigue have to become boring.
Scott’s excuses would have hit harder if the reader experienced his prejudice. His fears are a reality that many sports professionals experience. The weight of expectations, the dehumanization of becoming a “brand,” and engaging in a homophobic environment as a queer person is traumatic. Reid, in an article she wrote for Macleans, has cited that the discrimination in the hockey world made her ashamed to be a fan and was the leading cause to write this book.
Scott’s anxiety is understandable, but when Kip and the reader are told this over and over again, but they’re not shown it, this anxiety doesn’t feel real anymore.
Book three in the series, “Tough Guy” is about the romance between Ryan Price, a hockey player, and Fabian Salah, a musician. They unexpectedly reunite in Toronto, which reignites old feelings. Unlike “Game Changer,” Ryan’s anxiety around his relationship with Fabian feels very real.
Ryan has clinical social anxiety, which is shown in all aspects of his life. In the beginning of the novel, Ryan has no friends, he’s disappointed in his role on his team but won’t advocate for himself, and he struggles with his self-esteem. The book excels in that while his relationship with Fabian develops, these issues don’t magically go away. They linger, and they affect his relationship and friendships. He actively chooses to manage his anxiety because he cares about the people around him.
When a book is focused on internal struggle, internal change is important. Reid not only told, but shown an explanation for all of Ryan’s worries. This is seen in his professional life, as he gets traded quite frequently, and it’s seen in his personal life, as his medication causes intimacy issues. She also shows why Ryan makes these changes, and it is mostly because of his infatuation and love for Fabian.
Fabian is the complete opposite of Ryan. Problems can easily arise when one character is insecure, while the other is overconfident. Reid writes their dynamic in a way where each of their strengths is able to uplift the other in their personal struggles.
“Tough Guy” has a level of sweetness and intentionality in the development of romantic connection that “Game Changer” completely lacks. It takes “Tough Guy” more than twice the amount of pages for Ryan and Fabian to even consider having sex than Kip and Scott in “Game Changer.” Reid prioritized developing Ryan and Fabian as characters with and without the other, while in “Game Changer,” Reid tried to develop Kip and Scott’s romantic relations during their sexual relationship. Neither method is wrong; “Tough Guy” just made the reader emotionally invested in Fabian and Ryan’s relationship through the problems that stop them from being in a relationship.
Sex in “Tough Guy” matters. Ryan has a deep desire for it, but his insecurity in his image and his high view of Fabian are what stop him from it, even when Fabian reciprocates his feelings. When they have sex for the first time, it’s the result of Ryan finally feeling like love is something he deserves and is allowed to accept.
“Tough Guy” never loses its core theme during the story. That is what makes the book so compelling. Fighting for love and choosing your happiness over anything else is a relevant reminder, no matter what point you are in your journey. This hope for the future is exactly what makes stories about queer joy important.
Of course, we want these stories to reflect our experiences and to feel honest. While “Game Changer” certainly struggled with that, Reid found her footing in “Tough Guy.” It took her a few years, but her improvement shows her care for the stories she writes about. Ultimately, the entire series is about the happiness queer people can find in love. Her books serve as a reminder that, if we want to, we can find that joy for ourselves.
