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The first time Mack told his team, he had expected a much more dramatic response.
It was a mid-day practice. The locker room was filled with its normal hum of movement. Some rap music was being played from someone’s speaker, as everyone began taping their sticks and gearing up.
Mack was at his locker, staring at his shoulder pads as he mentally prepared himself. He could feel Will giving him weird looks, silently trying to check if Mack was zoned out or something more serious was happening.
Mack suddenly cleared his throat, loud enough to turn some heads. He swallowed hard, never really being one for attention.
“I have epilepsy,” Mack blurted out before he could overthink it a second more, “I was diagnosed a few weeks ago. Trainers and staff know, but that’s about it… I’m on medication and it’s mostly controlled I just- wanted you guys to know”.
There was a beat where no one said anything.
The chatter stopped, the only noise being Mack’s pounding heart in his ears and some newly released Drake song.
Mario was the first to say something, surprisingly. “Okay,” He shrugged, “So what do you need from us?”
It wasn’t pity, something Mack was beyond grateful for. Macklin exhaled.
“Well, like I said, it’s mostly controlled,” he explained. “Just, if something happens, let the trainers and medical staff do their thing. Media will probably be notified soon, but if anything happens on ice I would like it to be as controlled as possible”.
The room was still filled with silence, quiet acceptance rolling throughout. Everyone’s eyes were on him.
“Yeah… just don’t freak out,” Mack added finally, turning back to his locker, feigning nonchalance as his ears lit pink.
“Too late, man,” Smitty said from beside him, tapping his shoulder to ease up the room, “I’m already mid panic attack”.
A few laughs trickled out and Mack could physically feel his shoulders release some tension.
The chatter resumed, though it was a little quieter, and Mack finished gearing up.
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Over the next few months, the team adapted seamlessly. They knew not to draw attention to the boy, but to check on him if he got too quiet or zoned out.
If he was a little off balance, or travel days got a little too clogged for anyone to get a good night sleep, the team would keep an eye out.
“Water?” Nico would ask after practice, or on the bench of games.
“Want me to sub you out?” Toff would mutter if Mack’s playtime went a little too long. Mack would roll his eyes, mocking Toff’s overprotectiveness, but silently nod and let Toff glide onto the ice in his spot.
During road trips, Will would sit next to him, keeping headphones close by in case Mack needed a few extra hours of sleep, or extra protein bars.
Mack would get irked sometimes, feeling as if they were doubting his capability, but as soon as his moodiness rubbed off his heart would warm sentimentally at their actions.
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It was early February when this happened. The air was crisp outside and fans packed into the home stadium to watch the Sharks vs the Devils.
It was an insanely close game, and the fans were restless at each block and goal.
Macklin was bathing in the noise, skating quick. He wove around a player, ducking under another, keeping the puck in his control.
He saw an opening, and shot.
The puck soared, and then the red light behind the net blared.
Fans roared, his teammates skated over, pulling him into a tight hug and ruffling his helmet.
It was great, until it wasn’t.
Nausea rolled uncomfortably in his stomach, and his vision swayed a little. He would’ve lost balance if it wasn’t for the swarm of teammates around him keeping him up.
Instinctively, he tried to push away from whoever was in front of him, though his arm missed by a few inches and pushed into the air.
His team was too enveloped in the goal to notice at first, but then Mack stumbled a bit and his vision tilted.
“Woah…” Will stuttered, grabbing Macklin’s elbow to keep him upright.
His head was swimming, fingers going all weird and tingly like they have only once before. Right before his first seizure.
“I- I need to…” Mack tried to say but his tongue felt puffy in his mouth, garbling his words, “Bench”.
His team quickly understood, and soon he was being glided across the ice to the bench. He tried to move his skates underneath him but the static was quickly taking over his lower body.
He could distantly hear the reporters worriedly mentioning his name, and the stands quickly quieted down, but under the rushing of blood in his ears he could barely retain any of it.
He was being shoved through the door in the boards, and then his knees buckled. Someone’s steady grip lowered him to the ground.
He could hear the whistle be blown, and then he lost consciousness.
Distantly, he could hear the shuffling around him. Medical staff calmly reassuring him, his team mumbling to each other, and the people in the stands whispering.
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Mack went down as soon as he made it near the bench.
Will had talked to him a lot about what to expect if he ever had a seizure, but it was totally different to experience it first hand.
His muscles stiffened under his kit, and his face pulls uncomfortably. His eyes rolled unsettlingly into his head, and then the convulsions started.
Everything went quiet.
Will was clenching his jaw so hard it was beginning to sting, and his hands balled into fists.
A few of the team moved to subtly block the scene from the camera’s, which Will hadn’t even thought about in his terror but knew Mack would be insanely grateful for.
The seizure lasted a little less than a minute. The medical team was speaking to Mack steadily, chiding him into consciousness until his eyes began to blink open.
They were a little foggy and unfocused, but Will huffed out a breath of relief.
Confusion painted Macklin’s face as his eyes darted around. He looked so… young.
Finally, for once he looked like a 19 year old, not the ‘future of the NHL’.
They waited a few moments before helping him to his feet, though the team was more carrying him with how unsteady Mack’s legs were.
They walked down the hallway, as the steady claps began to fill the stadium.
The opposing team clipped their sticks against the ice, and Will turned one more time to see the worried looks on everyone’s faces.
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The room was quieter than usual when Mack came back from medical evaluation. Everyone was shaken, certainly more than Mack, who came back sporting his usual cheery smile.
Will was the first to stand, “You couldn’t wait until intermission?” he said, trying to keep his voice steady.
Macklin gave a tired smirk. “Had to make it dramatic.”
Toffoli didn’t joke. He just walked over and pulled him into a firm, shoulder-to-shoulder hug. “You scared us, kid” he muttered.
“Im sorry.”
“Don’t,” Toff said sharply, “Not your fault.”
That was it. No one babied him past the usual teasing, despite the increase of protectiveness. Nobody asked too many questions, or made cruel jokes.
Will say by Mack’s locker as he unlaced his skates, talking about some video he saw online. Nico handed him his water wordlessly, and Macklin took it gratefully.
Coach stepped in briefly, checking on Mack and comfortingly squeezing his shoulder.
The game resumed not long after. The Sharks scored late in the third period, and the fans went wild.
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The information was made public soon.
A simple statement from the Sharks management team was posted on all social media platforms, ‘Good morning everyone, the Incident this morning revolving around Macklin Celebrini is currently under control, as he is okay a being monitored by staff. Celebrini has been diagnosed with Epilepsy for 6 months now, and is taking medication to control it. Thank you for your worries and time, Macklin will be back on the ice soon.’
Fans flooded the comments with support. Mack went through them that night, smiling to himself.