There's a cornucopia of nationalities lined up on the ice at the Atlanta Thrashers practice facility in Duluth. Swedes, Russians, Finns, Czechs, Slovaks, Ukrainians, Canadians and even an American lean on their sticks as they wait for their turn with the puck. This slab of ice is a melting pot.
How does a team bring together players from so many different countries, cultures and styles of hockey and mesh them into a cohesive unit that translates into success in the National Hockey League?
In hockey, some stereotypes about players from certain countries prevail. Finns are superior skaters who exhaust opponents with their speed. Swedes are well-schooled and fundamentally sound. Russians hunt goals. North Americans have grit, attitude and passion. Czechs are clever players.
The key to winning hockey games is team chemistry, because players have to skate into openings on the ice that aren't yet there but are anticipated. The puck, on a team with chemistry and trust, arrives just in time for a scoring opportunity.
The Thrashers aren't the only NHL team to succeed with players who have such diverse backgrounds. But how is it done in Atlanta?
Thrashers center Bobby Holik, a Czech who has played in the NHL for 16 seasons, said there is one unifying ideal: putting the puck in the net and winning games. It doesn't matter if the pass comes from a player from a country whose national team crushed yours in the last Olympic Games.
"There is a common goal," Holik said. "Hockey players, in general, are good guys, and they respect each other. There are certain unwritten rules, and you don't have to police that."
The Thrashers do have some rules concerning diversity. When players enter the locker room, the first rule is that only English is spoken.
"It doesn't matter if you're from Russia or Quebec, wherever you are from, the language spoken in the locker room or at the game is English," Thrashers general manager Don Waddell said. "That was something we had to drive home to players. For a player that doesn't know the language, it is too easy for them not to learn it.
"If you are sitting in the locker room and [Ilya] Kovalchuk and [Slava] Koslov are talking in Russian next to you, it can be intimidating, and it's just not right, because you don't know if they are talking about you, your wife or your kids."
Teammates could also be laying blame for a loss in their native languages, and one sideways look could create dissension, especially on a team made fragile by a losing streak.
"What you want to watch for is a group of guys going to lunch, and you want to keep your eyes open for cliques," Waddell said. "Is it always the Swedes? Is it always the Russians?
"We're fortunate, because we have guys like Bobby Holik, who is from the Czech Republic . . . and he helps facilitate players doing things together."
When Kovalchuk joined the team in 2001, the Thrashers immediately hooked him up with instruction in English. The first-round pick was just a teenager and, at first, kept people at a distance with the language barrier.
"If we let him speak Russian -- and we had other Russian players at the time -- he is never going to learn the language, and, secondly, he is not going to feel like a part of this team," Waddell said.
Kovalchuk has adjusted to life in the United States and is now an accomodating interview subject in the locker room.
"We are speaking the same language in here and helping each other," he said. "When you are younger it is easier, because you have no family and kids. You are just by yourself, but the team helped me out and I was comfortable."
When Kovalchuk goes back to Russia, he has to set aside some of his American cultural training. "When I go back to Moscow, after making right turn on red (light) in the U.S., I try to make right turn on red in Moscow and got a ticket."
Foreign players often need to learn the rules of the road in the United States.
"The four-way stop, that was so hard to figure out," said goalie Kari Lehtonen, who is from Finland. "We only have two stop signs. I was thinking I could never go; I had people pushing their horn behind me. I finally asked somebody, and they say first one there goes."
For the Thrashers, the more important lessons on diversity are forged off the ice and out of the car. Coach Bob Hartley said the team pairs up veterans and younger players in charity golf tournaments. A Finn will get a locker next to a Russian.
"You walk into a restaurant on the road and you are going to see the Russians sitting at the table together," Hartley said. "That's human nature -- it's just normal -- but we try and break it up some. We'll do some things to try and craft some chemistry."
Waddell's wife, Cheryl, holds a preseason luncheon for players' wives and girlfriends to build a support group. The club helps players find apartments and even showed Lehtonen how to handle a checkbook.
Waddell has also scheduled team-building exercises, such as paintball outings.
Once upon a time in the NHL, diversity was not so accepted. As more Europeans came to North America to play, they took jobs from Canadians and Americans, who considered playing in the league a birthright. Problems also arose when players from the former Soviet Union joined NHL rosters and played alongside teammates whose native countries had endured Soviet influence in Eastern Bloc countries.
"It was something that was difficult," Waddell said. "There were some big battles trying to get players into the league, and I give management a lot of credit. The door was opened to Europeans because we realized the fans wanted the most skilled players, no matter what country they were from."