For as long as I can recall, issues of hyper-masculinity in the sport industry have always been perennial. Football games are notorious for their rough and rowdy crowds, though after the Hillsborough stampede disaster in 1989, rowdy might be a tragic understatement. The ‘locker room talk’ encourages casual use of homophobia, the objectification of women and blatant racism. In 2022, the FIFA World Cup took place in Qatar, a country that considers homosexuality illegal. Only in recent decades has this cultural phenomenon come into the limelight of mainstream news outlets and social media platforms. And after the booming success of Crave’s sports romance television series, Heated Rivalry (2025), more disparaging discussions surrounding hyper-masculinity in sport have stirred, and I, for one, have some things to say…

First, for those who may be unfamiliar, let’s establish what hyper-masculinity is. A quick Google search explains that hyper-masculinity is an exaggeration of traditional and stereotypical male traits, such as aggression, physical strength, toughness, emotional stoicism and heterosexual dominance. Jeez. Add sport, and this becomes detrimental. A male athlete can only convey emotion through triumph and anger; John McEnroe smashing a tennis racket on the ground is considered a valid reaction to defeat. Prominent athletes are usually sponsored by proud masculine, ‘hard’ brands, such as Nike, Lynx, Liquid Death (to name a few). Sport inherently glorifies pain; especially in rugby and boxing, those who play despite their injuries are cheered and revered. Those who put their health first, physical and mental, are booed and scorned with female genitalia slang. It’s behaviours and brands like these that actively reinforce hyper-masculinity as a cultural norm, and anything that strays from the ideal ‘macho man’ mania in sport is either silenced or ridiculed. So, it should surprise no one why so few athletes have come out. In 2024, out of 4,592 players across 153 of US men’s pro sports rosters, none were publicly gay or bisexual¹. I still remember when Tom Daley, British Olympic diver, came out as bisexual in 2013. As you can imagine, the internet flew into a frenzy. Whilst many congratulated Tom for his bravery (such as Stephen Fry and Lady Gaga), people weren’t afraid to showcase their disgust. Many boys in my school found it hilarious, and as for the girls, they were dramatically upset. Nearly a decade later, in a BBC documentary, Daley reflects on how terrified he was at the time. Coming out in sport completely alters one’s public image, potential brand sponsorships, team cohesion, not to mention the constant media scrutiny. What is ultimately no one else’s business becomes a stranger’s symbol, a journalist’s next juicy scoop, a gamble between playing safe or staying true.  

Heated Rivalry, adapted from Canadian author Rachel Reid’s novel seven years after its original publication, is a forbidden romance between two rival ice hockey players. Of course, same-sex romance has been present in literature and film, albeit not as consistently or as favoured by Hollywood as heterosexual love stories. Brokeback Mountain (2005), starring Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal, triggered a massive controversy for its setting in the typically straight ‘cowboy’ archetype. Both Brokeback Mountain, and more recently, Call Me By Your Name (2017) starred two straight men as its homosexual leads. As for literature, Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray (1890) received major backlash for its ‘vulgar’ content, so much so the book faced severe censorship in its re-publication the following year. More recently, the graphic novel series Heartstopper (2019-2026) is one of very few gay love stories for a primarily YA audience, and has now become a Netflix series sensation. As for Heated Rivalry, produced with a minimal budget, a largely debutant cast, flawlessly spoken Russian, and countless scenes of explicit sexual content and nudity, it is, without a doubt, one of the most talked about shows in the world right now. Of course, I had to watch it. Several months ago, a friend and I sat down and watched all six episodes in one evening. Since then, we’ve become professional quote-mongers in every single conversation (I’m sure anyone chronically online recognises the iconic, “I’m coming to the cottage”), both of our TikTok algorithms include back to back Ilya Rozanov (Connor Storrie) thirst traps, and we’ve attended a Heated Rivalry themed night out to boot. Yes, at first, I assumed it would be just another raunchy streaming hit with a bunch of beautiful, Adonis-like men at its epicentre, that it would wrangle the internet for another two weeks and eventually be forgotten until its next season. I’m delighted to say I was wrong. Heated Rivalry has taken one of most aggressively heterosexual-coded environments of today and placed a queer romance at its very centre. On IMDb, the episodes have an average rating of 9.4. The show refuses to shy away from the sex, the lust, the intimacy, no matter the gender. Our leading characters, Shane Hollander (Hudson Williams) and Ilya Rozanov (Connor Storrie), count for more than just their athletic achievements and physical aptitude; they are capable of grief, joy, jealousy, and humour. Through their shared intense desire, they learn to love each other whilst accepting themselves, all the while never falling into the typical tropes of modern homosexual love stories in the media. The characters ultimately unravel the ideals of a hyper-masculine athlete and make way for raw, unsuppressed moments of emotion; a testament to the acting, the cinematography, the music, and the writing itself. 

The Canadian prime minister Mark Carney meets Hudson Williams from Heated Rivalry. Photograph: George Pimentel/Shutterstock

In an industry still entrenched in traditional views of masculinity, the popularity of stories like Heated Rivalry cannot be considered accidental. Some can boil it all down to mere aesthetics; “Sometimes the riddle really is as straightforward as: what’s better than one hot man? Two.”² Others may simply enjoy the fun of it all; attending that themed club night, the cheers when the screen cut to Kip (Robbie Graham-Kuntz) and Scott (François Arnaud) kissing on the ice were as loud as at any sports game. But no one can deny what it truly means. People are ready and willing for the stories that the sports industry continues to oppress. Shows like Heated Rivalry are pushing for real athletes and sports institutions to make the change. To move away from the ‘locker room’ culture, to showcase real and humane emotion, to create an environment safe and welcoming enough for their fellow teammates to feel comfortable coming out. We’ve had Louis van Gaal kissing Memphis Depay: “that’s just how things pan out in football.”³ Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal experienced a teary, intimate moment during a final match, described as “beautiful.”⁴  And, even after retiring in 2024, Tom Daley remains one of the most legendary Olympic divers in British history. He has become a successful and much loved TV personality, launched his own knitwear company Made with Love, remains an ambassador for Adidas, and has inspired countless young people to embrace who they are and love whomever they choose. 

Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal in tears and holding hands at the Laver Cup in 2022. Photograph: Tom Jenkins/The Guardian

It’s examples like these that prove there is space for sheer vulnerability and truth in the sports industry, and stories like Heated Rivalry can move beyond fiction. I’ll leave this with the late Heath Ledger to explain best: “The pure fact of it is it transcends a label. It’s human. It’s a story of two human beings, two souls, that are in love. Get over the fact that it’s two men.”⁵