The British television industry has found an unlikely new star: the ice hockey romance. From the frozen rinks of Canada to the streaming queues of the UK, a wave of shows blending love stories with slap shots is drawing global audiences. But behind the glitz, it is the screenwriters of the industrial North who are turning this niche genre into a powerhouse, and the question on everyone’s lips is why now?
For years, British TV has excelled at period dramas and gritty crime thrillers. Yet the rise of sports romance, particularly ice hockey, reflects a shift in viewer appetite for escapism that still feels grounded. “We wanted to write about passion that feels real, about people who are bloody good at something but struggle to connect off the ice,” says Fiona Gallagher, a Leeds-based writer behind the hit series ‘Cold Hearts.’ Her show follows a factory worker’s daughter who falls for a troubled Canadian forward. It sounds improbable, but the chemistry is electric.
The genre’s success is not accidental. British writers, many from working-class backgrounds in the North, have injected a dose of regional grit into a formula often associated with glossy American productions. “Ice hockey is brutal, and love can be messy. That resonates in towns where the mill closed down but the community spirit still fights,” explains Gallagher. Her own upbringing in Bolton, where her father was a steelworker, informs the show’s depiction of financial strain and loyalty.
Of course, the rise of streaming platforms has widened the audience for such specific stories. ‘Cold Hearts’ was picked up by a global service after a bidding war, and its second season is due next month. Critics have praised its authentic portrayal of class dynamics, a departure from the sanitised romances of the past. “It’s not just about the will-they-won’t-they. It’s about whether she can afford to travel to his away games, whether her union job will allow the time off,” says TV reviewer Mark Higgins.
Yet the trend raises questions about regional inequality in the creative industries. While writers from the North are leading the charge, many still face lower budgets and fewer opportunities than their London counterparts. The British Film Institute recently reported that only 12% of TV writers live outside the South East, despite the success of shows like ‘Cold Hearts.’ “We are selling a vision of the North that feels authentic, but the money is still concentrated in the capital,” says Gallagher, who now runs a mentorship programme for young writers in Manchester.
For viewers, the appeal is simpler. Ice hockey offers a visually striking backdrop: the cold arenas, the aggressive physicality, the contrast between violence on the rink and tenderness off it. British writers have leaned into this, scoring scenes of conflict with the blare of a puck hitting the glass. But it’s the emotional depth that keeps people watching. In one viral clip from ‘Cold Hearts,’ the heroine tells her love interest: “You can score a hundred goals, but you still haven’t learned to protect your own heart.” It’s lines like these that strike a chord in a cost-of-living crisis, where romance feels like an affordable luxury.
As the genre expands, the pressure is on to avoid cliché. Shows like ‘Slapshot to the Heart’ and ‘Rink of Roses’ have been accused of formulaic plots. But the best examples, say writers, are those that remember the real economy. “My character works in a bakery. She smells of flour and tiredness. That’s the world I know,” says Gallagher. “Ice hockey romance is a dream, but the dream is built on real waking hours.”
The global success of this British-led movement could reshape how the industry values regional voices. For now, the pucks are flying, and the love stories are rewinding. But behind every sigh and goal, there is a writer in a northern city, typing furiously to get the details right: the price of a ticket, the ache of a shift, and the hope that love, like a good story, can still surprise you.
