Under The Surface - Season 1: Visibility & Pressure | Chapter 1: Zach Sullivan

Ice Hockey, Visibility, and the Weight You Don’t See

With Heated Rivalry becoming something of a cultural phenomenon, we thought it would be the perfect opportunity to speak to somebody from the world of Ice Hockey, to discuss masculinity, confidence and visibility. Rather than talking about the sport or the show, we wanted to look at the reality behind it — the lived experience of someone competing, week in and week out, in one of the most physically demanding sports in the UK.

Whilst labels shouldn’t matter, in the world of professional sports, where there are such few out players, it’s difficult to overlook how these labels impact performance and behaviour on the field (or ice in this case), in the locker room, and out in public.

That led us to Zach Sullivan, the first out bisexual male player competing at the highest level.

In the high-octane world of the Elite Ice Hockey League (EIHL), where the sound of blades on ice and the thud of bodies against the boards define the atmosphere, Zach Sullivan stands as a figure of both physical strength and emotional courage. 

A Surrey-born "private school kid" who has spent fifteen years in the professional ranks, the last seven with the Manchester Storm, Zach is more than just a seasoned defenseman. He is one of the few active male professional hockey players globally to live openly as bisexual. But speaking with Zach, one thing is clear, his identity isn’t a political statement, It’s simply his life. It’s shaped by a close-knit family, a fondness for Marvel marathons, and a lifelong devotion to the game he fell in love with at nine years old.

Beyond the Jersey

When the Manchester Storm jersey comes off and the roar of the crowd fades, Zach Sullivan describes himself as "pretty normal." He is the third of four siblings, a self-proclaimed "Mummy’s Boy" who finds comfort in the simple things in life: hanging out with teammates, playing racket sports, and binge-watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine. Yet, there is a specific weight to being "the out player" in a profession that often demands traditional masculinity.

"I like to think I'm a pretty normal person when you strip away the 'titles'... I think I've watched the Marvel movies in chronological order 4 or 5 times now (we have a lot of free time!!!).

There is a charming humility in how Zach presents himself.  By centring family and everyday interests, he reminds us that the "titles" we carry — professional athlete, advocate, public figure — are often the least interesting things about us. His Newcastle United fandom and his "long story" connection to the club hint at a man who values loyalty and history, traits that clearly translate to his fifteen-year career on the ice. 

Yet even in this normality, there is a specific weight to being the out player in a sport still shaped by traditional ideas of masculinity.

Redefining the Locker Room

For decades, locker rooms have been synonymous with toughness, a place where vulnerability was seen as a weakness. Zach is part of a new generation redefining what it means to be a teammate. For him, true confidence isn't just about winning puck battles; it’s about the moral courage to call out bigotry and the emotional intelligence to educate those around him.

"I think now, being truly confident, is being able to call out homophobia for what it is—bigotry. To do so with a calm head, and to be able to educate people why homophobic language or behaviour has a negative impact."

This shift from "performing toughness" to "practising integrity" is a defining feature of high performance. Zach’s approach isn't confrontational; it’s educational. He understands the unique accessibility of UK hockey, where fans and players interact at bowling events and post-game skates. In those moments, words matter.

Zach speaks with confidence in knowing that his words can either cause damage or drive positive change, and he chooses the latter with a "calm head."

Vulnerability Without Performance

Elite sport rewards control. Vulnerability is often tolerated only when it’s neat, resolved, and inspiring.

Zach doesn’t perform vulnerability for effect.

Instead, it lives in private spaces: long conversations with trusted friends, teammates who ask questions and genuinely want to understand, and — without irony — his relationship with his mum.

“Where would a professional athlete be without his mum?”
“I’m a mummy’s boy, and I say that with no shame.”

There’s power in that refusal to repackage softness as weakness. No apology. No rebrand. Just honesty.

The Weight of Visibility

Visibility is often championed as a universal good, but for the individual at the center of it, the reality is more complex. Zach is open about the "different kind of weight" that comes with being open. While it is lighter than the crushing pressure of the closet, it brings a new set of expectations: choosing words carefully, and engaging in countless deep, personal conversations with teammates. It can be emotionally demanding work.

"The visibility is certainly a weight. It is much less of a weight than the weight of hiding your sexuality in a hyper-masculine professional sports environment, a different kind of weight."

Zach’s willingness to engage in "emotionally draining" conversations with his peers is a testament to his commitment to the culture. He isn't just existing in the space; he is actively renovating it. His love for his teammates, who he says he "couldn't love more" for their willingness to learn, shows that the "weight" is made manageable by a supportive community.

Zach speaks with genuine respect for the people around him — from owner Ryan Finnerty and head coach Cameron Critchlow through to his teammates and the Manchester Storm fans he says he “couldn’t love more.” 

That support doesn’t erase the emotional labour that sometimes comes with visibility, but it makes it bearable. The conversations can be draining, he admits, yet they’re rooted in mutual respect and a shared willingness to learn. In that environment, progress isn’t performative — it’s practical, shaped by everyday relationships and a community prepared to move forward together.

The Ice as a Sanctuary

Perhaps the most surprising revelation in Zach’s journey is that the very environment that creates so much pressure, the ice, is also his primary source of peace. He recalls a pivotal moment as a teenager, during a particularly tough time, when a teammate told him that the ice is a place where "you can forget all about the outside world."

"No matter what has happened, while I'm on the ice, all that matters is the game, the game I have played my entire life and fell in love with at 9 years old—never to look back."

This is Elite performance in its purest form. For Zach, hockey isn't just a job or a platform; it’s his inner peace, grounding him. When he steps onto the ice, the pressures of public life slip away, he isn’t a spokesperson, a symbol, or ‘’the bisexual hockey player’’. It is just him, his teammates, and the game. It’s a reminder that passion can be both a battleground and a refuge.

A Legacy Beyond Tokenism

When asked about the future of the game, particularly when it comes to inclusivity,  Zach looks past the "tokenism" of one-off events and toward the "grassroots" He advocates for a long-term cultural shift that starts with junior players, teaching them the power of their voices and removing the stigma that being a hockey player requires internalizing personal struggles.

‘’Pride Games and Pride Jerseys are great, and they show the wider LGBTQ+ community that they are acknowledged and welcome in hockey rinks around the world, but it is important to keep having a dialogue regarding how it can be bigger and better and more inclusive.”
"I think 'tokenism' only starts becoming an issue if you think the job is done—If we keep talking and looking for ways to improve the culture... hockey will continue to make strides in the right direction."

Across professional, semi-pro, and grassroots sport, many athletes are still discouraged from being open — often with good intentions, but at real cost to wellbeing. 
Zach’s outlook is one of continuous progress. Acknowledging that there is no single solution to progress. Instead, pointing to the work of advocates like Brock McGillis, emphasising the role of players, parents, coaches, as well as fans, correcting negative behaviours early.

Culture is built daily, through conversation, accountability, and the acceptance that “no one is perfect.”

Pride nights matter. Visibility matters. But culture only shifts when the conversation continues long after the jerseys come off.

Final Thoughts

Zach Sullivan’s story is more than just a hockey player who came out; it’s the story of a man who chose to be human in a space that demands he be a machine. 

Through his quiet confidence, Zach has made his story a personal one. He shows that you can be tough and vulnerable, confident and emotional, using the tools available to him to educate and improve those around him. 

Zach continues to play for Manchester Storm, he continues to prove there is room in professional sport heart, humanity and honesty.

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