Culture
A former NFL player found purpose in … woodworking? Millions of viewers are following along
In some ways, John Malecki can thank a cheap coffee table for his 1.2 million subscribers on YouTube.
Had he owned a sturdier table, maybe he wouldn’t have thought twice about his enthusiasm for HGTV’s home improvement show “Fixer Upper”, which he watched on repeat as a fringe offensive lineman in the NFL.
As it turns out, though, Malecki’s table broke right before his final preseason with his hometown Pittsburgh Steelers in 2013. And as the “Fixer Upper” fan he was, building a new one sounded way better than just buying a replacement.
At that point, Malecki was on his fifth team in four years. An undrafted free agent out of Pitt, football had always been his north star, guiding him in any decision since elementary school.
Now, in his mid-20s, his north star was dimming.
In between training camp practices, with the help of some Home Depot two-by-fours, Malecki constructed a homemade coffee table for his South Side Pittsburgh apartment. As he reflected on his appreciation for the work Chip and Joanna Gaines did on “Fixer Upper”, he thought, “I kind of want to build my own cool s—.”
In the weeks that followed — and especially after his NFL career ended when he was cut in September that year — he bought some new woodworking tools. The start of what would be a large collection — and a whole new passion.
Today, Malecki’s 1.2 million YouTube subscribers tune in to his woodworking channel to watch him build everything from cutting boards and end tables to a hidden whiskey cabinet and a door inspired by “The Lord of the Rings.”
Like others who pour themselves into their work, Malecki did not view himself as someone who had many interests outside of football. When he started building his coffee table, he had no formal training and didn’t know what he was doing; he was just curious and allowed himself to follow it.
So what happens when we pay a bit more attention to those everyday afterthoughts and give ourselves the freedom to explore new areas of growth?
Passions can be brought out of us at odd times, but most often when we feel an underlying need for change in our lives. For Malecki, that meant creating post-football opportunities to experiment, fail and develop.
While watching one of his videos now, you might notice a tattoo on Malecki’s arm. He got it after one of his college coaches used to preach the importance of perseverance.
It says: Keep chopping wood.
Two years earlier, Malecki was holed up in an extended stay hotel on Christmas Day, alone except for a bottle of Jack Daniels and an elk puzzle. A member of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers practice squad at the time, Malecki was already on his third team that season. The Bucs played the next day, and the bottle and puzzle filled his time away from home.
Back in Pennsylvania, Malecki’s family was crafting its annual lavish spread: filet roast paired with pasta made from scratch, his grandmother’s homemade gnocchi, his mother’s pumpkin pie.
His mom had sent him a care package that week, trying to replicate the experience.
Still, he said, “I was super bummed.”
And yet he was also living out everything he had always wanted. When he was a 10-year-old growing up in Murrysville, 30 minutes from downtown Pittsburgh, he had placed a piece of paper in a time capsule with his dream written on it: “I’m going to be in the NFL.”
If that meant Christmases alone in a hotel room and away from his family, that was part of the deal.
“At the time I was a firm believer that you have to suffer in order to get what you want in life,” he said.
Following that season with the Bucs, he had two more stints with the Steelers sandwiched around a brief stop in Washington. When Steelers head coach Mike Tomlin called him into his office in 2013, Malecki’s intuition told him it might be permanent.
“Appreciate your work, John,” Tomlin told him.
His football career was over.
The next spring, Malecki interviewed for a sales job at a metal byproduct company. He hadn’t played in the NFL in months, and what he wanted more than a sales job was another shot in the NFL.
But when the owner of the company told him during the interview, “This is great, John, but you don’t have any experience,” it was like a slap across the face.
“I was useless,” Malecki said. “I had no skills. … All my childhood hopes and dreams crumbling. I was just sad. Just lost in multiple facets of life.”
The one thing Malecki continued to do during that time of uncertainty was build new stuff out of wood.
John Malecki (No. 74) playing against Syracuse in college. (George Gojkovich / Getty Images)
One day Malecki was hanging out with former teammate Baron Batch, who had just bought a new house. The lack of furniture in the house was glaring. No table or chairs, just couches.
They were sitting in the new, empty garage, looking at the workbench in the corner, crowded with random supplies on top of it.
“What if we built stuff?” Malecki asked Batch.
The same excitement Malecki had before he built his apartment coffee table crept in. Soon after, Batch’s house was furnished with homemade tables, cabinets and shelving.
Buying tools off Craigslist, using more Home Depot two-by-fours and an old jointer his dad gifted him, Malecki started to spend most of his time attempting new builds.
“I was just boozing and hanging out with my buddies,” Malecki laughed. “We were curious a lot, and I was trying to figure out that next thing in life.”
He began posting on Facebook and Instagram, showing what he and Batch were doing. He had no expectations of where this could lead. But comments started to roll in:
I would love one.
Could you make me that?
Batch and Malecki decided to open up a studio together full-time, called Studio A.M., where they combined Batch’s artistic visions with Malecki’s woodworking skills. As time went on, and his Instagram and Facebook following grew, he decided a YouTube presence could help, so he started posting a few videos.
“They are so bad,” Malecki said. “Just awful.”
Then, in 2016, he posted a video of a cross-cut sled, a common woodworking tool. It was a basic YouTube post, and he expected the usual mild response. Except it got a couple hundred thousand views.
“Holy s—,” he thought, “I don’t know how to capitalize on this, but this feels good.”
As he was finding his way, he kept telling himself the same mantra he used during his football career: “Just do the reps, John. You go to the gym, you hate it, just do the reps. You don’t like this drill, you don’t like this exercise, the coach said do it, you do it.”
Malecki allowed himself the freedom to explore an area he was curious about, gradually letting go of the idea his only purpose in life was football. But he did keep his sense of purpose, the things he believed in that translated across fields.
“Effort and attitude,” Malecki said. “Those are two of the controllable things you have. I took that from football and applied it dramatically to the next phase of my life. You can’t lose if you don’t quit.”
In 2018 Malecki signed a year-long sponsorship with a company for $65,000, his big financial breakthrough. It was the first time he realized he could actually make a living woodworking. Now, he makes almost what he did in his best year playing in the NFL, in one month.
“We were just taken aback at how creative he was,” said Max Starks, a former Steelers teammate. “We knew he was creative, we knew he was funny, but to combine both of those things and do it so seamlessly and be genuine about it is something that’s kind of fascinating.”
Former teammate Ramon Foster first met Malecki as a Steeler, and it quickly became apparent what kind of person he was.
“He came to work every day, he took a lot of crap, and he stayed and persevered,” Foster said.
So when Malecki started to sell his creations, Foster wanted to be one of his first big sales. He now owns a customized University of Tennessee cutting board, along with a coffee table, corn hole boards and cutting boards crafted by Malecki.
In return, Foster asks for only one thing.
“I just want to put it out there,” Foster said. “If he ever goes and meets Chip and Joanna Gaines and he doesn’t invite me and my wife, we’re gonna have a real problem!”
(Photo: Justin K. Aller / Getty Images)
Culture
What Happens When We Die? This Wallace Stevens Poem Has Thoughts.
Whatever you do, don’t think of a bird.
Now: What kind of bird are you not thinking about? A pigeon? A bald eagle? Something more poetic, like a skylark or a nightingale? In any case, would you say that this bird you aren’t thinking about is real?
Before you answer, read this poem, which is quite literally about not thinking of a bird.
Human consciousness is full of riddles. Neuroscientists, philosophers and dorm-room stoners argue continually about what it is and whether it even exists. For Wallace Stevens, the experience of having a mind was a perpetual source of wonder, puzzlement and delight — perfectly ordinary and utterly transcendent at the same time. He explored the mysteries and pleasures of consciousness in countless poems over the course of his long poetic career. It was arguably his great theme.
Stevens was born in 1879 and published his first book, “Harmonium,” in 1923, making him something of a late bloomer among American modernists. For much of his adult life, he worked as an executive for the Hartford Accident and Indemnity Company, rising to the rank of vice president. He viewed insurance less as a day job to support his poetry than as a parallel vocation. He pursued both activities with quiet diligence, spending his days at the office and composing poems in his head as he walked to and from work.
As a young man, Stevens dreamed of traveling to Europe, though he never crossed the Atlantic. In middle age he made regular trips to Florida, and his poems are frequently infused with ideas of Paris and Rome and memories of Key West. Others partake of the stringent beauty of New England. But the landscapes he explores, wintry or tropical, provincial or cosmopolitan, are above all mental landscapes, created by and in the imagination.
Are those worlds real?
Let’s return to the palm tree and its avian inhabitant, in that tranquil Key West sunset of the mind.
Until then, we find consolation in fangles.
Culture
Wil Wheaton Discusses ‘Stand By Me’ and Narrating ‘The Body’ Audiobook
When the director Rob Reiner cast his leads in the 1986 film “Stand by Me,” he looked for young actors who were as close as possible to the personalities of the four children they’d be playing. There was the wise beyond his years kid from a rough family (River Phoenix), the slightly dim worrywart (Jerry O’Connell), the cutup with a temper (Corey Feldman) and the sensitive, bookish boy.
Wil Wheaton was perfect for that last one, Gordie Lachance, a doe-eyed child who is ignored by his family in favor of his late older brother. Now, 40 years later, he’s traveling the country to attend anniversary screenings of the film, alongside O’Connell and Feldman, which has thrown him back into the turmoil that he felt as an adolescent.
Wheaton has channeled those emotions and his on-set memories into his latest project: narrating a new audiobook version of “The Body,” the 1982 Stephen King novella on which the film was based.
A few years ago, Wheaton started to float the idea of returning to the story that gave him his big break — that of a quartet of boys in 1959 Oregon, in their last days before high school, setting out to find a classmate’s dead body. “I’ve been telling the story of ‘Stand By Me’ since I was 12 years old,” he said.
But this time was different. Wheaton, who has narrated dozens of audiobooks, including Andy Weir’s “The Martian” and Ernest Cline’s “Ready Player One,” says he has come to enjoy narration more than screen acting. “I’m safe, I’m in the booth, nobody’s looking at me and I can just tell you a story.”
The fact that he, an older man looking back on his younger years, is narrating a story about an older man looking back on his younger years, is not lost on Wheaton. King’s original story is bathed in nostalgia. Coming to terms with death and loss is one of its primary themes.
Two days after appearing on stage at the Academy Awards as part of a tribute to Reiner — who was murdered in 2025 alongside his wife, Michele — Wheaton got on the phone to talk about recording the audiobook, reliving his favorite scenes from the film and reexamining a quintessential story of childhood loss through the lens of his own.
This interview has been edited and condensed.
“I felt really close to him, and my memory of him.”
Wheaton on channeling a co-star’s performance.
There’s this wonderful scene in “Stand By Me.” Gordie and Chris are walking down the tracks talking about junior high. Chris is telling Gordie, “I wish to hell I was your dad, because I care about you, and he obviously doesn’t.”
It’s just so honest and direct, in a way that kids talk to each other that adults don’t. And I think that one of the reasons that really sticks with people, and that piece really lands on a lot of audiences, and has for 40 years, is, just too many people have been Gordie in that scene.
That scene is virtually word for word taken from the text of the book. And when I was narrating that, I made a deliberate choice to do my best to recreate what River did in that scene.
“You’re just a kid,
Gordie–”
“I wish to fuck
I was your father!”
he said angrily.
“You wouldn’t go around
talking about takin those stupid shop courses if I was!
It’s like
God gave you something,
all those stories
you can make up, and He said:
This is what we got for you, kid.
Try not to lose it.
But kids lose everything
unless somebody looks out for them and if your folks
are too fucked up to do it
then maybe I ought to.”
I watched that scene a couple of times because I really wanted — I don’t know why it was so important to me to — well, I know: because I loved him, and I miss him. And I wanted to bring him into this as best as I could, right?
So I was reading that scene, and the words are identical to the script. And I had this very powerful flashback to being on the train tracks that day in Cottage Grove, Oregon. And I could see River standing next to them. They’re shooting my side of the scene and there’s River, right next to the camera, doing his off-camera dialogue, and there’s the sound guy, and there’s the boom operator. There’s my key light.
I could hear and feel it. It was the weirdest thing. It’s like I was right back there.
I was able to really take in the emotional memory of being Gordie in all of those scenes. So when I was narrating him and I’m me and I’m old with all of this experience, I just drew on what I remembered from being that little boy and what I remember of those friendships and what they meant to me and what they mean to me today.
“Rob gave me a gift. Rob gave me a career.”
Wheaton recalls the “Stand By Me” director’s way with kids on set, as well as his recent Oscars tribute.
Rob really encouraged us to be kids.
Jerry tells the most amazing story about that scene, where we were all sitting around, and doing our bit, and he improvised. He was just goofing around — we were just playing — and he said something about spitting water at the fat kid.
We get to the end of the scene, and he hears Rob. Rob comes around from behind the thing, and he goes, “Jerry!” And Jerry thinks, “Oh no, I’m in trouble. I’m in trouble because I improvised, and I’m not supposed to improvise.”
The context for Jerry is that he had been told by the adults in his life, “Sit on your hands and shut up. Stop trying to be a cutup. Stop trying to be funny. Stop disrupting people. Just be quiet.” And Jerry thinks, “Oh my God. I didn’t shut up. I’m in trouble. I’m gonna get fired.”
Rob leans in to all of us, and Rob says, “Hey, guys, do you see that? More of that. Do that!”
The whole time when you’re a kid actor, you’re just around all these adults who are constantly telling you to grow up. They’re mad that you’re being a kid. Rob just created an environment where not only was it supported that we would be kids — and have fun, and follow those kid instincts and do what was natural — it was expected. It was encouraged. We were supposed to do it.
They chanted together:
“I don’t shut up,
I grow up.
And when I look at you I throw up.”
“Then your mother goes around the corner
and licks it up,”
I said, and hauled ass out of there,
giving them the finger over my shoulder as I went.
I never had any friends later on
like the ones I had when I was twelve.
Jesus, did you?
When we were at the Oscars, I looked at Jerry. And we looked at this remarkable assemblage of the most amazingly talented, beautiful artists and storytellers. We looked around, and Jerry leans down, and he said, “We all got our start with Rob Reiner. He trusted every single one of us.”
And to stand there for him, when I really thought that I would be standing with him to talk about this stuff — it was a lot.
“I was really really really excited — like jumping up and down.”
The scene Wheaton was most looking forward to narrating: the tale of Lard Ass Hogan.
I was so excited to narrate it. It’s a great story! It’s a funny story. It’s such a lovely break — it’s an emotional and tonal shift from what’s happening in the movie.
I know this as a writer: You work to increase and release tension throughout a narrative, and Stephen King uses humor really effectively to release that tension. But it also raises the stakes, because we have these moments of joy and these moments of things being very silly in the midst of a lot of intensity.
That’s why the story of Lard Ass Hogan is so fun for me to tell. Because in the middle of that, we stop to do something that’s very, very fun, and very silly and very celebratory.
“Will you shut up and let him tell it?”
Teddy hollered.
Vern blinked.
“Sure. Yeah.
Okay.”
“Go on, Gordie,”
Chris said. “It’s not really much—”
“Naw,
we don’t expect much from a wet end like you,”
Teddy said,
“but tell it anyway.”
I cleared my throat. “So anyway.
It’s Pioneer Days,
and on the last night
they have these three big events.
There’s an egg-roll for the little kids and a sack-race for kids that are like eight or nine,
and then there’s the pie-eating contest.
And the main guy of the story
is this fat kid nobody likes
named Davie Hogan.”
When I narrate this story — whenever there is a moment of levity or humor, whenever there are those brief little moments that are the seasoning of the meal that makes it all so real and relatable — yes, it was very important to me to capture those moments.
I’m shifting in my chair, so I can feel each of those characters. It’s something that doesn’t exist in live action. It doesn’t exist in any other media.
“I feel the loss.”
Wheaton remembers River Phoenix.
The novella “The Body” is very much about Gordie remembering Chris. It’s darker, and it’s more painful, than the movie is.
I’ve been watching the movie on this tour and seeing River a lot. I remember him as a 14- and 15-year-old kid who just seemed so much older, and so much more experienced and so much wiser than me, and I’m only a year younger than him.
What hurts me now, and what I really felt when I was narrating this, is knowing what River was going through then. We didn’t know. I still don’t know the extent of how he was mistreated, but I know that he was. I know that adults failed him. That he should have been protected in every way that matters. And he just wasn’t.
And I, like Gordie, remember a boy who was loving. So loving, and generous and cared deeply about everyone around him, all the time. Who deserved to live a full life. Who had so much to offer the world. And it’s so unfair that he’s gone and taken from us. I had to go through a decades-long grieving process to come to terms with him dying.
Near the end
of 1971,
Chris
went into a Chicken Delight in Portland
to get a three-piece Snack Bucket.
Just ahead of him,
two men started arguing
about which one had been first in line. One of them pulled a knife.
Chris,
who had always been the best of us
at making peace,
stepped between them and was stabbed in the throat.
The man with the knife had spent time in four different institutions;
he had been released from Shawshank State Prison
only the week before.
Chris died almost instantly.
It is a privilege that I was allowed to tell this story. I get to tell Gordie Lachance’s story as originally imagined by Stephen King, with all of the experience of having lived my whole adult life with the memory of spending three months in Gordie Lachance’s skin.
Culture
Do You Know the Comics That Inspired These TV Adventures?
Welcome to Great Adaptations, the Book Review’s regular multiple-choice quiz about printed works that have gone on to find new life as movies, television shows, theatrical productions and more. This week’s challenge highlights offbeat television shows that began as comic books. Just tap or click your answers to the five questions below. And scroll down after you finish the last question for links to the comics and their screen versions.
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