Two Peas, One Pod: Celebrini and Smith’s Chemistry Is Shaping the Sharks’ Future
Nikolakrpan2. Will Smith IMG 6102. 12 Mar. 2025. Wikimedia Commons
Written by Gina Anton
San Jose, CA — In the quiet arena of a San Jose morning skate, two distinct sounds cut through the air. One is the sharp, percussive rhythm of Macklin Celebrini’s blades as he races down the ice, all attack and urgency. The other is the measured glide of Will Smith, stick tapping softly, eyes scanning for what others don’t yet see.
They are different frequencies and together, they’re composing something entirely new for the San Jose Sharks.
The Rebuild
Two teenage forwards, drafted in consecutive years—Celebrini first overall in 2024, Smith fourth in 2023—arrived just as the Sharks’ identity dissolved and needed help to rebuild.
They’re the same age, from rival schools separated by a few Boston subway stops. A year ago, they were scoring against each other in the Beanpot. Now, they’re sitting behind veterans on the plane, laughing too loudly, arguing over TikTok restaurant reviews, and finding their footing in a league that’s built to humble you.
There’s a restless quality to Macklin Celebrini’s game. Watch him for five minutes, and you’ll understand why scouts called him a “gravity player”—he bends the ice around him. His skating is relentless.
When he scored his first overtime winner against Detroit, there was no celebration, no theatrical fist pump. Just a small nod, a quick exhale, and a glide to the handshake line. For an 18-year-old, the moment was enormous; for Celebrini, it was simply expected.
Will Smith pauses where others rush, lets plays breathe, and finds notes nobody else hears. His game is all about timing—the subtle weight of a pass, the delayed release that wins games.
He’s had quieter nights this season, even a few scratches by design, but the Sharks aren’t worried. He’s learning from those around him and mistakes that are made.
Smith’s patience comes from confidence, not hesitation. In college, he ran the offense at Boston College with a calm unlike other players his age. In San Jose, he’s learning when to improvise and when to just hit the right note.
Off the ice, their connection is less like teammates and more like brothers navigating the same experiences together. Smith jokes that Celebrini “has the worst taste in music,” while Celebrini fires back that Smith “doesn’t know how to shut up.”
They have an easy rhythm created from long flights, late games, and film sessions where every mistake is slowed down and circled in red. They eat together on the road, visit Joe Thornton’s house for dinner, and play two-on-two basketball in the backyard. Thornton’s son, River, calls them “the rookies who never stop.”
That’s what makes this duo different. They’re not just learning hockey—they’re learning adulthood, accountability, and what it means to grow into the weight of expectation.
Beyond Comparisons
Every franchise with two young stars gets saddled with a comparison. Toews and Kane. Crosby and Malkin. McDavid and Draisaitl. But Celebrini and Smith don’t fit the template. They’re not opposites in personality—they’re opposites in rhythm.
Celebrini drives chaos. Smith organizes it.
Celebrini breaks patterns. Smith creates them.
One shifts the pace; the other defines it.
And in that contrast lies the blueprint of San Jose’s next identity: fast, fluid, unpredictable hockey where structure meets instinct.
Looking Forward
Rebuilds don’t announce their turning points. They reveal them quietly, in moments that don’t make the highlight reels: a recovery after a turnover, a backcheck that saves a goal, a subtle glance on the bench that says, we’ve got this.
Celebrini and Smith are still making mistakes, still learning the math of the NHL game. But what makes them special isn’t how quickly they learn—it’s how naturally they harmonize.
It’s not hard to imagine the future: the crowd at SAP Center roaring, the music blaring, and those two frequencies—speed and poise, attack and artistry—merging into something distinctly San Jose.
Because if rebuilds are about finding a new sound, the Sharks may have already found theirs. It just happens to come from two kids, a few jokes, and the hum of blades slicing the same sheet of ice.
