Behind the scenes with the Flyers’ equipment staff, the unsung ‘stars of the show’
While not household names, NHL equipment managers are absolutely critical in ensuring things go smoothly before, during, and after each game and practice.
When you watch two players drop the gloves in an NHL game, do you ever wonder what happens to the jerseys, full of blood stains and rips after a beatdown? Behind every hockey bench, there are three to four people who are ready to save the day. They’re equipment managers, there to repair a jersey, fix a skate, or even find lip balm for a player with chapped lips.
But how does one become a hockey equipment manager? When John Peters was 17 years old, he asked Rick Bronwell, then an assistant equipment manager with the Minnesota Wild, that exact question.
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Bronwell had fallen into the career as a young kid. Growing up in Kansas City, Mo., Bronwell was football-focused. But his dad worked at Kemper Arena, the home of the now-defunct Blades of the IHL, and found out they were looking for a stick boy. He asked Bronwell if he was interested, to which Bronwell replied “No, I’m good.”
His dad signed him up anyway.
After working for the Blades through high school, Bronwell, now 46, was hired as the assistant equipment manager who drove the truck that picked up visiting teams’ equipment. From there, he worked his way up through the AHL to the NHL.
The job sounded amazing to Peters, so he asked Bronwell what he should go to college for.
While Bronwell’s assistant with the Flyers, Andy Rannells, worked as the assistant equipment manager for the University of Minnesota-Duluth hockey team while majoring in history, many like Bronwell, simply got their starts as stick boys. Peters was a little old for that. So Bronwell told him to bypass college and instead find an unpaid job working as an equipment manager to boost his resume.
Peters followed Bronwell’s advice to a tee. He moved from Salt Lake City, Utah, to volunteer as Arizona State’s club hockey team’s equipment manager (which raised the coach’s eyebrows, but he didn’t stop him). He simultaneously worked two jobs until ASU’s team went varsity. He later landed a paid gig with the San Jose Sharks.
In the summer of 2022, the 30-year-old Peters’ story came full circle, as he was hired as an equipment manager by the Flyers, linking up with Bronwell, the same man he had called for advice all those years earlier.
More than water boys
Most people think equipment managers are glorified water boys who hang jock straps, Rannells, who is in his ninth year with the Flyers organization, said. That’s kind of what Peters thought he was signing up for.
And they do take care of those things. But sharpening skates is probably only 5-10% of the job.
“There’s a lot of other stuff we do behind the scenes,” Rannells said. “The being up until two in the morning moving everything while the team goes back to get rested for the next day and then making sure everything’s ready when they come in so they don’t have to worry about anything until game time.”
Looking back at his phone call with Bronwell, Peters said he feels Bronwell painted a pretty accurate picture of the job. But until he was in it, he couldn’t grasp the reality of it. The hours are the hardest thing to comprehend.
Equipment managers get to the rink long before the players and leave long after them. It’s crazy for even the players to think about, said de facto captain Scott Laughton. And it only gets more intense on the road. Bronwell said he can’t tell you how many times he’s gone to the wrong hotel room, all the numbers and floors blending together after a while.
Another aspect none of them grasped as young, aspiring equipment managers was the mentorship role they’d come to play in the locker room. While Bronwell, who is in his 16th season as an NHL equipment manager, doesn’t feel much different from his 16-year-old self working at the rink in Kansas City, the reality is there are now players who were born when he was starting his job. The equipment managers have the authority that comes with age, but they’re not coaches. They’re more like “fun uncles,” Rannells said.
Bronwell and Peters are relatively new to Philadelphia, so they’ve been careful about not pushing their way into the locker room. Bronwell said Laughton was one of the guys he immediately felt comfortable with.
“He’s a hard guy not to get along with,” Laughton said. “He’s one of the funnier human beings I’ve been around. Always keeps it light, always there for you. … But he was probably a little quieter at first.”
A day in the life
So they sharpen skates. But what else do equipment managers do?
Hours before the players arrive, they head to the arena to hang up the players’ gear and check everything to make sure it’s in good condition. They look for scratches on visors, holes in jerseys, and much more. Then they make all the necessary repairs. They try to get it all done well before the players arrive.
“Ricky always says, ‘When we’re sitting down [with downtime], we’re done with our work, it makes us look prepared,’” Peters said.
Once the players arrive, they’re on hand for anything equipment-related, and even beyond, that the players need help with before practices and games. Their goal is that the players think as little as possible about their equipment so that they can focus on the game. Laughton joked that James van Riemsdyk, who has a complex pre- and post-game routine, needs a whole equipment manager to himself.
“A lot of guys are picky about their stuff,” Laughton said. “You want to have the best available and don’t want to worry about anything when you get to the rink. I think they do that on a daily basis.”
When the team takes the ice, the equipment managers head out to the bench. They bring packs of extra skate blades with them, as well as packs with tools. Players used to miss shifts as they went to the locker room to take their entire skate off to be repaired. Now, with removable blades, they can be quickly replaced.
Peters didn’t realize the job also meant he’d be on TV, often visible in the background of shots of the bench. His friends and family have gotten a kick out of it, especially his former roommate in San Jose who would send him pictures of the screen whenever he saw him.
“My phone would start buzzing in my pocket,” Peters said. “Like, dude, I have seven texts from you at intermission.”
Down to a science
Following practices and games, the equipment managers set up heaters and fans to dry everything off as the players hang their equipment in their lockers. All the dirty uniforms go into a bin, one that Peters won’t open without gloves. Rannells said he’s long since become used to the smell.
Once dry, they pack everything up in trunks to move to wherever the team is going next. It’s “all hands on deck” then, with everyone helping out with whatever task needs to be done so they can get to their very limited free time.
When they arrive at the next arena, they do it all again. They unpack, sharpen skates, and, most importantly, make sure the High-Chew candy stash is full so the players don’t go without. The crew has the procedure down to a science and usually can unpack and set up in 30-45 minutes. Packing up has to be done just as quickly, as usually there is only about an hour between the game’s final horn and the plane taking off to the next city.
Beyond the menial tasks, there’s a lot of organization that is involved. They have to coordinate shipments of new supplies if it comes in on the road, unloading times so it doesn’t interfere with other events at the arena, and uniform colors.
“The biggest part of our job is being able to roll with whatever comes,” Bronwell said.
After a while, everything becomes muscle memory — even using the industrial sewing machine to put shot blockers on gloves and fix more complex tears, which both Bronwell and Rannells said was the hardest skill to learn (Peters said he was always handy with a sewing machine dating back to home economics class). The repetition of it all is relaxing, and Rannells said there’s no task he truly dislikes.
But there’s always room for improvement. That’s why there’s a convention every year where equipment managers gather to share tips. There are workshops, which Bronwell has occasionally run, for everything from how to pack a trunk to the best way to repair a tendon guard on skates. Bronwell has even put up videos on YouTube, which Peters used to watch.
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Those workshops are especially important for equipment managers in the minor leagues who often have to do the job as just one person, Bronwell said, but even the veterans learn new things.
“There’s more and more to have to take care of and remember to do than it was before,” Rannells said.
Eleven years into the job, Peters has since come to realize that without equipment managers, no one would know what to do. If they didn’t show up for a day, the Flyers simply wouldn’t play, Laughton said.
“They’re the stars of the show, kind of behind everything,” Laughton said. “They’re the guys that drive the bus for this organization.”