"'I Don't Function Well In Reality'"

macklin celebrini, only 19 20: yeah, obviously there's will smith, and uh i guess me, yeah, me and smitty, obviously, y'know, we have really great chemmy with each other, we're just so comfortable with each other and we've played together for two years now, so that really just helps with the familiarity, like we just know each other better now, and the longer you've Been With Someone you're gonna know them even better and you can read them even better and that's me and will, you know what i mean? we don't even need to look at each other and we can read each other's minds, and we have so many more years to learn each other better, because we're so young

mack: and we have stenberg and the young defensemen, they're great, that's gonna really help us out. and you know, the other guys too, like, uh.

Robyn always says the drive was already there. Mack was the kid begging to be driven to the rink before sunrise, the one who couldn’t stop thinking about hockey. Rick didn’t put that fire in him. But he did everything he could to make sure it never went out.

Every practice mattered. Every rep mattered. Every mistake became a lesson. Rick raised him to believe that discipline would carry him farther than talent ever could. Little by little, hockey stopped being something Mack simply loved. It became who he is.

Rick looks at his son sometimes and sees a machine. Relentless, disciplined, unbelievably good. The kind of player everyone dreams of coaching. He was always preparing for the next skate, the next game, the next season. Always chasing something. But he also wonders if he taught Mack to be an athlete first before he ever learned how to simply be a boy.

Then Will came along.

And for the first time in years, Rick noticed something changing.

Mack laughed more. He lingered after practice with Will instead of rushing to the next workout. He started to talk about movies and cafes and stupid inside jokes instead of faceoff percentages and edge work. Sometimes when the Celebrinis are together, he can hear Mack in his room at night talking to somebody, laughing so hard he snorts. He looked lighter.

Maybe because Will reminded Mack that there is always supposed to be a life outside of hockey. That he can watch rom-coms, drink espresso martinis, wander around cities with no plans, go to cafes and people-watch, make dumb jokes, be imperfect, be twenty, and none of it makes him any less of a hockey player… that hockey didn’t have to be the only thing worth living for.