Days after the U.S. men’s hockey team won Olympic Gold, they are still getting roasted by hockey fans, the punditry class and straight media alike after their locker-room hangout with FBI Director Kash Patel and that ill-timed chuckle at one of Trump’s tasteless jokes — the one about “having to invite the women’s team to the White House too.” Ever since, the internet’s been calling the players tone-deaf, disrespectful, and even sexist. Fans are online demanding that the Ottawa Senators and Toronto Maple Leafs get rid of their respective captains, and suddenly, the team’s golden moment is a full-blown PR nightmare.

The thing is, these are hockey players. They check people into boards for a living. They tape sticks, train hard, play the toughest sport in the world and get paid a fortune to do it. What they don’t do is politics? Not really their lane. They were tossed into a no-win situation — smile for the cameras, play nice with politicians, and somehow represent an entire nation’s moral compass at the same time. That’s a big ask, especially for guys trained to skate, not navigate political minefields. They didn’t handle it perfectly, sure, but it’s hard to blame a bunch of athletes for not acting like diplomats under pressure — most of us wouldn’t have done much better. (Of course, there are two notable exceptions to this, the Tkachuk brothers. They are irredeemably awful, so it’s great to see whatever happens to them just keeps on going.)

So now what? The blame cannon is aimed directly at them. Social media has decided the men’s team “should have known better,” as if they were supposed to predict the optics of a Trump-Patel photo op in 4K. But the real masterminds of this mess — Donald Trump and Kash Patel — are skating away scot-free.

Patel, trying to look like one of the boys, cracked beers and played the “bro among pros” routine for the cameras. Trump, never one to miss a headline, paraded the team out during the State of the Union, fresh off a speech about “all the winning” America’s supposedly doing.

The players were pawns — shiny, strong, and useful — in a larger political game they didn’t even know they were playing. It’s not the first time Trump’s done it either. From football players to business leaders to random celebrities, everyone he touches becomes collateral damage in his endless campaign for relevance. This time, it’s the men’s hockey team, and the cost is their reputation.

Because, as Rick Wilson so accurately coined, “everything Donald Trump touches dies.” Not literally, but reputationally. Companies, careers, partnerships — they all wilt under the spotlight he drags them into. And now, the latest victims are a group of guys who should be basking in the afterglow of national victory, not issuing apology statements through gritted teeth. Trump turns moments of unity into political props, and it works — for him. Everyone else? They’re left to mop up the mess.

The evidence is written all over the ice. What should have been the team’s greatest triumph — a chance to celebrate years of training, sacrifice, and teamwork — dissolved into a scramble to contain bad headlines. Instead of focusing on their performance, they were left to answer for a handful of podium laughs and a few bad optics. Once their PR teams got involved, things turned robotic fast.

Take Auston Matthews’ damage-control statement: “Whatever your political beliefs may be, hopefully something like this will bring more unity to the country,” he said carefully. “But for us, we believe it’s a great honour no matter who is in office.” That’s a guy trying to put out a dumpster fire with a garden hose — graceful, but doomed. You can practically hear the media training in every syllable.

Meanwhile, the women’s team made the opposite call. After Trump’s off-colour joke about having to invite them too, they declined the invitation altogether. And just like that, they were hailed as paragons of integrity — classy, strong, principled. And to be fair, they showed all of those things. But context matters. They had the gift of watching the men’s chaos unfold first. In a sense, their “grace” came after the men had already unknowingly stepped on the political landmine.

So now the story isn’t about who played better hockey — it’s about who played politics better. And that’s the tragedy. The men’s team is being crucified for something they never meant to make political in the first place. They weren’t rallying behind ideologies or party lines — they were just doing what athletes have done for decades: showing up when the President calls, shaking hands, grinning awkwardly through speeches, and heading home to celebrate.

But in this political climate, neutrality doesn’t exist. Every laugh is a statement. Every handshake becomes an endorsement. Every misstep turns viral. The men’s team learned the hard way that in an age where everything is content, and everyone is watching, innocence isn’t a shield — it’s a setup.

So, yes — maybe they screwed up the optics. Maybe they should’ve been more aware. But the fury aimed at them misses the real game entirely. The men’s hockey team didn’t politicise hockey — politics came for them. Trump and Patel used them as props, and when the cameras stopped rolling, they were left holding the bag. It’s not fair, and it’s not new. The puck stopped with them — but it shouldn’t have.