Evgeni Malkin turned 40 on Friday, which gives us a convenient excuse to discuss him.
Yes, Malkin is a likely future Hall of Famer, an all-time great and also among the most underrated hockey players in history. Mr. 101? Please. I can confidently say that Malkin is one of the 50 greatest players who ever lived.
His popularity in Pittsburgh, however, isn’t simply a matter of those 533 goals, 1,407 points, three Stanley Cup wins, two Art Ross Trophies, a Conn Smythe Trophy and a Hart Trophy.
Here’s the truth about Malkin, the part of his story that remains somewhat confounding if not endearing. The guy from Russia, the guy who still speaks imperfect English, is one of the most relatable athletes in the history of Pittsburgh sports.
Pittsburghers love him because they feel him. They love him because he doesn’t hide anything. They love him because they see themselves in him. Marc-Andre Fleury was like that, too, but Malkin has been here for almost a decade since Flower departed.
The social improbability of such a connection with any athlete in this era is wildly low. People who have earned more than $100 million in their lives are, by nature, remarkably difficult for most people to understand or relate to. Throw in differences in culture and language, and it’s essentially a miracle that Malkin could be among the most beloved athletes in Western Pennsylvania history.
Still, here we are.
Sidney Crosby might be as beloved as any Pittsburgh athlete ever, but we don’t really relate to him, because we can’t comprehend what it’s like to be so seemingly perfect. He’s always been so polished and composed that we marvel at him but don’t understand him. Mario Lemieux is so distant and regal that we’ll never grasp him, and as a private person, he likes it that way. Roberto Clemente was taken from us when he was two years younger than Malkin, so his relationship with Pittsburgh is almost mythical.
Malkin is different.
I’m a big believer that people identify with him because he’s so naturally vulnerable. Whether he’s on the ice, or speaking with the media, or if you see him out and about, Malkin hides nothing. We see it all. The beautiful. The ugly. Everything in between. In a world where athletes are trained to be vague and to distance themselves from everyone, Malkin lets everyone in.
It started at the very beginning.
Malkin made his way to the Penguins in 2006 by escaping the Russian team hotel in Finland in the middle of the night. A secondary assist from the Penguins got him to the United States. It was a story right out of the Cold War, but it made Pittsburgh feel nothing but warmth for the then-20-year-old Malkin.
Later that summer, when the media and the city got their first public glimpse of him, Malkin didn’t say anything in English at a news conference. When it was over, and many people had stopped paying attention, Malkin walked up to the microphone and said in English, “Thank you.” It was perfect.
As the years have turned into decades, Malkin has remained as vulnerable as ever.
When he scores goals these days, the exuberant celebrations remain as they did in 2006. When he gets angry, which is often, the opposition needs the very best of health insurance.
Who among us wouldn’t celebrate like a madman if we had the opportunity to score an NHL goal? And who among us, as sports fans, hasn’t wanted to jump through the TV and deliver a punch to the face of an athlete we particularly despise? Malkin has let an entire city live vicariously through him for 20 years.
He’s one of us when he shows the inability to control his emotions. It’s not embarrassing or off-putting; it’s kind of funny and, more than anything, utterly relatable. His father, Vladimir, wears his heart on his sleeve during games, making him a beloved figure in Pittsburgh for his animated behavior when cameras catch him. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree.
At this point, Malkin is almost more Yinzer than he is Russian. When he has a day off on autumn Sunday afternoons, he typically takes his son, Nikita, to Steelers games. He doesn’t care much for the Flyers or Capitals. He’s one of us.
A Penguins employee told me many years ago they saw Malkin shopping at Giant Eagle and, afterward, witnessed him riding on the back of a shopping cart by himself in the parking lot, a kid being a kid in a faraway land.
Once upon a time, when a group of Penguins held a casual discussion to consider temporarily replacing Crosby as team captain because of his extended absence with a concussion, Malkin ended the gathering abruptly by saying, “This is stupid. Sid is the f—ing captain.”
He just gets it. And he gets us. We saw that last year more than ever.
For the first time, I think, Malkin was fearful that his time in Pittsburgh was through. He didn’t have a contract past last season, and Penguins president/general manager Kyle Dubas made no particular effort to sign Malkin during the campaign. Every time Malkin spoke with the media, the topic of his contract came up. Often, it was Malkin who initiated the talk. It was so clear that he simply didn’t want the ride to be over, that he didn’t quite know what he’d be doing with himself if he wasn’t a Penguin.
The city was every bit as desperate as Malkin for the longtime star to return for at least one more season. The show will end sooner rather than later, but what a show it’s been.
Not many athletes get the first name treatment in Pittsburgh. Mario. Roberto. Sid. Ben. Franco. Mean Joe.
And Geno.
Even fewer get to leave on their own terms.
The birthday boy got his wish. So did Pittsburgh.