[231226 FIN VS. CAN] macklin celebrini watches a replay and calls goal; the officials confirm and team canada converges to celebrate their youngest member's first goal of the tournament
well we have another rick celebrini derangement article in the athletic, jock dads be normal challenge: impossible
the whole article is very fun and worth a read — written by TA’s warriors beat writer, who co-authored the earlier rick celebrini profile in TA, linked and excerpted here — but i extracted the story that forms the throughline of the article, which is more or less exactly in line with the kind of jockdad stuff that’s…well!
The Athletic | 06.30.2024 | Inside Macklin Celebrini’s NHL Draft Moment, forged from his family’s love and expertise | Marcus Thompson II
LAS VEGAS — Macklin Celebrini sat up and leaned forward, a big smile breaking across his face. It was just shy of 10 a.m. on Friday in this suite at the Venetian. He and his father were doing interviews. The infamous “hill” story came up.
“I was pissed,” he said, then dove into the story. “So it was at the end of a long week. And we just worked out for like two hours hard …”
His dad interrupted. The “hill” story from the summer of 2022 is important. It’s a window into who they are, how they function, why Macklin was hours from fulfilling his dream of becoming the top pick in the NHL Draft. But the 18-year-old had forgotten a small but central detail. So pops asked if he could start this one.
“OK, yeah,” Macklin says, reclining back on a soft brown couch.
So Rick Celebrini, 56, the highly regarded athletic trainer who plies his expertise as the vice president of player health and performance for the NBA’s Golden State Warriors, dove right in. Dad explained the pattern he’d concocted for training Aiden, 19, eldest of the three Celebrini boys, and Macklin. It consisted of speed and power work early in the week, while they’re fresh. Then he grinds them towards the end of the week.
Aiden and Macklin could tell what kind of session they’d have based on how pops entered the home after work. Most often, it’s a warm greeting. Hugs and hair-ruffling. Queries about their day. But those days when work frustrations survive the drive home, as can happen when existing behind the scenes in the NBA, dad is more hard. Fewer words. Dour vibes. A little grumpy, as he put it. His greeting is more a simple, “Let’s go.” Aiden and Macklin would look at each other, knowing the training session would be tough.
The story of “the hill” was one of those days.
At the end of the workout, they run up and jog down this hill at their house. They typically finish workouts with five minutes on the hill, 10 max. But on this day, 10 minutes grew to 12 minutes. And 12 to 15.
Asking when a workout will end is a great way to keep it going. They’d long ago learned that lesson. And dad is notorious for saying “one more” and not meaning it. Always one more rep. One more time. One more drill. So they’ve learned to just keep going until he says stop.
“So they’re looking at me,” Rick says. “But they know not to ask either. And they could tell the kind of mood I was in. So they’re going. Now we’re up to 18 minutes. And they’re looking at me. Not saying anything. … They’re not going to quit.”
The boys took turns rallying. Aiden would surge ahead while Macklin faded. Then Macklin would find another gear and push through while Aiden faded. The entire time, they looked into their dad’s eyes for a glimpse of mercy.
After 30 minutes, Rick finally called it off. They collapsed.
They eventually got up and started walking home. But Macklin mumbled under his breath.
“Now we’re fucked,” Macklin said with a laugh, recalling his audacious moment.
“And I go,” Rick chimed in, “‘What did you just say?’ And he goes, ‘Now we’re fucked for the week.’ I go, ‘Let me tell you something. On your first day of camp, they’re going to grind you. They’re going to backskate you. They’re going to have you out there for two hours. You think you’re going to get out of it? You think you’re not going to come back the next day and do it again, and do it again? So you better learn. If you want to be a pro, you gotta be able to handle this stuff and suck it up.'”
…
Another critical trait Macklin gets from his dad is attention to detail. Rick has engrained it in them from their earliest days. Doing the drills right. Eating breakfast. Packing a bag. Macklin remembers him telling them John Wooden’s story about how he taught his team how to put on socks to avoid blisters.
“Since we were younger, it has been about details,” Macklin said. “Even the little things. That stuff adds up and will actually make a difference. That’s one of the things he’s told us throughout our whole lives.
“You can only really get it when you’re older. And you start to understand how important it is.”
That’s why the “hill” story is so important. Because it was the son understanding the father’s lessons well enough to take such a bold stand.
They’ve been groomed to deem rest and recovery important. Rick was from the era of going hard. He pushed and he pushed. But he stresses to them to value and prioritize replenishment.
To Macklin, the hill story was a violation of that indoctrination.
“I want you to understand this workout,” Macklin said. “It wasn’t like normal hills.”
The Celebrini residence is a ranch in Livermore, a little over 30 miles northeast of San Jose. Known for its vineyards and its cowboy history, Livermore sits in a valley halfway between mountain ranges. It gets hot starting in late spring. By the summer, leather seats in the car become hot plates grilling bare thighs.
The driveway up to the house has an incline. But so does the path from the entrance of their property to the driveway. The hill included scaling both inclines.
“It’s 100-degree heat. It was, like, run up and jog back. Lunges up, jog back. Run up, jog back. Lunges up — and he just kept going,” Macklin said, rubbing his legs as if they were hurting thinking about it.
“I’m never opposed to work. I’ll work. But it was after, like, three hours on the ice. Plus another two-hour lift and a workout. And then we went into this hill. We still had Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday left. So I was looking at it like, ‘I’m fucked. I can’t do this anymore. I’m legit not going to have any energy. We’re fucked. Now we can’t do anything.’”
…
“Every athlete that he works with,” Macklin said, “you hear them say, ‘Your dad is a genius, pretty much.’ But you’re like, ‘Whatever. He’s dad,’ But we all know he’s the best at what he does. Everything he does is for a purpose. And he will never say his way is the right way, but I think his way is the right way. And it works.”
Then, with a straight face, and as matter-of-factly as possible, Macklin made one thing clear.
“But I’ll never say it publicly.”
…
The “hill” story doesn’t end on the hill. But in the house.
Eventually, dad’s fiery speech ended. Aiden and Macklin walked away. Everybody showered and got ready for dinner.
Dad was at the table when he heard the door open behind him. While he had justification for his tough love, especially with his son’s pro potential, Rick knows himself and his tendencies. He knows his kids. He knows what they can handle, how they respond. They’ve been granted the freedom to be their full selves, which for Macklin means being chill, and kind, and funny, and occasionally combustible. This was one of those moments where dad expected the tension from the hill to make it to the dinner table.
But Macklin, instead, wrapped his arms around his seated father from behind. The son squeezed tight enough to convey a love they don’t often declare.
“And he gives me a kiss on the cheek,” Rick said. “And he’s like, ‘Thanks, da-da.’”
The sentimentality, especially among the Celebrini men, is most often tucked away behind the chiseled family jawline and intense eyes. They don’t lacquer on the heartwarming.
“I don’t remember that,” Macklin said, fighting off a smile as he barely hung onto the bit. “At all. He made that part up.”
that sure is a family dynamic!
And a little bonus from Macklin’s mom:
“They’re a lot more similar than Macklin is willing to admit,” Robyn, Macklin’s mother, said. “The intensity of their personalities. Their competitiveness. … He was a little wild man. We were always just trying to find healthy outlets for his energy.”
…
“I sometimes, privately, remind him, like, ‘OK, you’re taking that a little too far,’” Robyn said, standing in the back of the Sharks’ suite at the Sphere. Macklin is off doing his rounds with the media. Rick is locked in a conversation with Joe Thornton, the Sharks legend who introduced Macklin as the No. 1 pick. “And he’s really open to that. … But he’s always put his relationship with the kids first. It’s just he’s so passionate. He can be pretty tough.”
Robyn’s expression changed. She tilted her head back. Rests her hand on her chest. Her countenance shifted to confidence.
“He doesn’t scare me,” she said, breaking character with a hearty laugh. “I handle him just fine.”
there’s sports daddy issues and then there’s the celebrini family. you crazy kids
The way I imagined Will saying "He doesn't scare me, I handle him just fine" juste like Robyn at the end 😄 made me thought about the windshield incident.
Well, The Hill story for whoever never had the chance to read it.
As the old tales can tend to disappear :
The story of how Pat Brisson (and others) needed to hire bodyguards and put Geno in a van in Finland so he could escape Russia and finally play in the NHL, two years after his draft. How he didn't even told his parents, after having his passport confiscated for a while and being followed home, coerced into signing a contract extension.
Because playing in the NHL and in Pittsburgh was bigger than anything else he wanted. And with Sid.
The Full Story
When Sid was out dealing with his concussions and a group of players tried to decide if they needed a new “C” and Geno had his famous line — was it truly that the team thought they needed a new captain or was it a dislike for Sid? For fun, who would have gotten the “C” if it happened?
It occurs to me that a whole generation of Penguins fans probably doesn’t know this story. So first, a fresh recap.
It was February 2012. The Penguins were mired in a six-game losing streak and Crosby had played in only eight games in 14 months because of a concussion. Some Penguins believed it was worth discussing if a new, temporary captain should be selected given Crosby’s absence. As the story goes, in all, eight players took part in a meeting. They were divided. The players who staunchly supported the idea of Crosby remaining captain were Malkin, Marc-Andre Fleury, Arron Asham and Pascal Dupuis. The other four players in the conversation — they were hardly anti-Crosby but still thought it should be discussed — were Craig Adams, Brooks Orpik, Jordan Staal and Matt Cooke.
They discussed some ideas. The meeting abruptly ended when Malkin stood up and said, “This is fucking stupid. Sid captain.”
Everyone agreed.
There was never a dislike of Sid. I doubt he’s ever had a teammate who disliked him. At the time, it was a very frustrated team and there was genuine concern Crosby was never coming back. Turns out, he was back a month later.
Funny thing … a former co-worker of mine wrote a column detailing some of this while I was at another place of employment. This article was written while I was on the road with the team in Florida. The next morning, the players all wore “C’s” on their chests during the morning skate, in a sign of rebellion and support. Malkin even famously wore a “K” on his sweater, which was priceless. Only problem was, the whole team was mad at me, even though I didn’t write the article. Guilt by association, I guess.
Cooke looked at me like he wanted to kill me. Not my most enjoyable morning skate. Ha.
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