- SyncVibe

April 11, 2024

HERMOSA BEACH, Calif. — The breeze is refreshingly cool on a Southern California summer morning. There’s barely a cloud in the sky, the waves are calmly breaking and the beach is filling with surfers, sunbathers, swimmers and volleyball players.

A block off the paved Strand, in the midst of bars and restaurants that look over Hermosa Beach and gorgeous multi-million-dollar homes enveloped by palm trees and occupied by the rich and famous, Jack Jablonski is beaming.

His 5 o’clock shadow and tanned face glisten. He’s smiling, laughing and talking excitedly about the future as joggers, cyclists and rollerbladers buzz by.

“Jabs,” as he’s known by coworkers in the Los Angeles Kings offices, fans in his home state of Minnesota and followers throughout the hockey world, is at peace.

“I feel like for the first time in my life, I’m happy and excited about the future,” Jablonski says from the wheelchair he has occupied since the life-changing accident on a Minnesota hockey rink almost 11 years ago when he was a 16-year-old high school sophomore. “I’m finally being true to myself, having finally come to grips with who I am. It feels great to be able to be myself and not have to worry about hiding in the shadows.”

Jablonski looks like such a weight has been taken off his shoulders, it’s hard to imagine that two years ago, during the early stages of a pandemic that isolated so many, he was so downtrodden, so lonely, that he’d come down to this same beach in the middle of the night, gaze at the ocean, listen to the waves, stare up at the moon and stars and sob endlessly as he worried about the future.

Not because he is paralyzed.

“Because I’m gay,” Jablonski says publicly for the first time.

Dark days turned into darker nights down at that shoreline.

Jablonski faced down unrelenting depression and suicidal thoughts on those nights, as he thought about what it would be like to confide in his friends and, ultimately, his mom, Leslie, dad, Mike, and 23-year-old brother, Max.

“I’ve been through so much, and I’ve overcome it, and now I’m battling myself,” Jablonski remembers thinking. “I don’t know, in my head, I guess in some ways it felt like another crutch. For the longest time, you didn’t want it to be true, because it’s not the norm in the world I live in.”

Jablonski isn’t just talking about his personal life — about growing up not knowing any openly gay people. He’s talking about his professional life, working in a sport that has been slow in adapting and accepting people who are not straight.

After interning with the Kings throughout his time in college at USC, Jablonski has become a valuable member of the Kings communications department. He’s their digital media content specialist, meaning much of the hockey content on the team’s website is his writing. He runs part of the backend of their website. He contributes on Jesse Cohen’s Kings’ podcast, “All the Kings Men.” He does a web series called “Talkin’ Jabs,” has appeared on Kings telecasts and has worked as a color analyst for the AHL Ontario Reign. He also helps coach the Junior Kings Under-15 team.

He aspires to work his way up in hockey and ultimately into an NHL front-office role.

But as he began to accept he was gay, he worried about his career, and the isolation he was experiencing during the pandemic only compounded matters.

Jablonski had only been with the Kings in a full-time role for three months after graduating college when COVID-19 shut down the NHL in March 2020. The world seemed to stop in its tracks. In Southern California, beaches and even the 22-mile Strand that connects Redondo Beach to Santa Monica were closed. Jablonski had just moved to Hermosa Beach and knew nobody. His parents live in Minneapolis. His younger brother and most of his college friends lived well north in the suburbs of Los Angeles. And with the virus so contagious, everyone tried to protect Jablonski. Nobody knew if he was considered high-risk.

Jablonski had never felt more alone.

That alone time led to soul searching and deep thinking.

“At 14, 15, my friend group, stereotypically, was your typical jocks and masculine athletes,” Jablonski says. “So for me, when you have those curiosities or conflicting things in your head, or just not understanding at the time, you’re just like, ‘Nah, whatever. It’s a phase or I’ll get over it or there’s no way.’ I was just like, ‘Well, there’s no way it’s true I’m gay. I’m a four-sport athlete. I have no stereotypical interests in anything that is perceived as quote-unquote gay. I’m not into any of that. I’m masculine.’

“For the longest time, you’d go through those thoughts and then suddenly think, ‘All right, it’s done. I’m done.’ You just try to forget that you were even thinking about it. Growing up, I didn’t believe it, because I didn’t know anyone who was gay, so there was no one I could go to. But at the same time, I wasn’t ready to admit it because it just didn’t click.”

Then Jablonski was hit from behind in a hockey game, and the recovery and adaptation to a new way of life became the priority for a decade.

“Everything just got pushed to the back burner for the longest time,” he says. “It just became denial and ignorance.”

Then came the pandemic and accepting that he was gay and a personal downward spiral he talked to nobody about until the summer of 2021.

It was 16 months of torture for Jablonski.

“Obviously, there’s nothing physically I could have done to myself, but there were many times I would go on these walks and think about going up to Pacific Coast Highway and driving my chair in front of a car and just stopping it all because of how lonely I felt and how sad I was,” Jablonski says. “I was nowhere near happiness. Thankfully I never got off the Strand and turned right to go up those five or six blocks to PCH.”

He pauses and stares into the distance.

“Thankfully I don’t have to think about that anymore,” he says, his eyes welling.

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈 pic.twitter.com/IZ4Vc63Abw

— Jack Jablonski (@Jabs_13) September 7, 2022

Zack Hale is Jablonski’s closest friend.

Former linemates at Benilde-St. Margaret’s in St. Louis Park, Minn., Jablonski and Hale were inseparable as kids. When Jablonski returns to the Twin Cities in the summertime and Hale is also there, Jablonski loves to spend every minute he can with Hale, a 27-year-old high school teacher in Virginia.

“Before and after his injury, Zack has always been the perfect poster child for a best friend in any situation,” Jablonski’s other best friend, younger brother, Max, says.

“Zack’s like a third son,” adds Jablonski’s mother, Leslie. “We think the world of Zack.”

So it’s not a shock that the first person Jablonski felt comfortable coming out to was Hale.

“It was ugly. I was very by myself, lonely, didn’t know who to talk to, didn’t know how to go about it, comprehend it, understand it. Just coping with it,” Jablonski says. “And it got worse and worse. And then I just finally one day was like, ‘F— it. I need to tell someone.'”

It was the summer of 2021 when Jablonski’s life changed for the better in large part because of his best friend’s reaction.

Luke Prokop, a Nashville Predators prospect now playing for the Edmonton Oil Kings, had just publicly announced he was gay after first informing the Predators, who immediately voiced their support. Jablonski was so inspired by Prokop’s courage, he reached out on Instagram via direct message.

Much to his surprise, Prokop wrote back. Jablonski told Prokop what was going on in his life and that he too was gay.

“Whether he knows it or not, Luke Prokop was huge for me,” Jablonski says. “I opened up and talked to him. I asked him a bunch of questions and picked his brain on how everything went for him, and he was nothing but complimentary of everyone, especially how the Predators treated him, which made me feel a lot better.”

After seeking advice from Prokop, Jablonski texted Hale:

“I don’t know if this will or won’t come by a surprise to you, and my god am I afraid to open up about this. I’ve fought this internally for quite awhile and wish it weren’t the case, but as I realized it I realized not being my true self has taken a lot of happiness out of my life … I’m not straight. … I’m afraid to tell my family and frankly everyone but (I knew) you were the first person I wanted to open up to.”

Hale’s quick series of replies was exactly what one would hope he’d get from a best friend when delivering such news.

“Well shit man, first of all I hope you know that I don’t care what the hell you are, you’ll always be my best friend, my brother and ill always love you! I really appreciate you telling me and I’m really sorry that this is something you’ve been dealing with on your own. I’m sure it’s been one hell of a battle to hold on to this especially on top of everything else you’ve gone through.

“I can see why you are afraid to open up to your family and others but im pretty sure that them and the other people in your life who love and care about you won’t feel any different. It might be a little uncomfortable for a moment, and then gradually will become such a relief to have that burden off your shoulders.”

Jablonski, as he read his friend’s texts, began to tear up. Hale offered to call, but Jablonski wasn’t ready to talk out loud.

(Photo courtesy of Zack Hale)

“But I couldn’t have been happier,” Jablonski continues. “Telling that first person is so much of a weight off the shoulders.”

Hale’s instant support and positive reaction gave Jablonski the confidence to slowly but surely confide in others close to him.

Two days later, he texted one of his best friends from college, Amy Macrae, 25, an employee experience specialist with the Golden State Warriors: “She’s been my No. 1 cheerleader throughout all of this,” Jablonski says.

The hardest conversation came on Aug. 10, 2021. Jablonski’s dad, Mike, had been in California for five weeks, giving his son’s caregiver, Danny, time off after he’d been with Jablonski 24/7 for 14 months during the pandemic. Leslie joined at the tail end of the trip.

On the afternoon before his mom and dad were flying back to Minnesota, Jablonski sat down with his parents in his Hermosa Beach apartment.

“I just started bawling. I could barely get it out,” he says. “I’ll never get the look of my dad’s face out of my head. Just the shock. Me and him are very close and for how much he’s been involved in my life, especially sports, he didn’t see it coming. No one saw it coming. They were both shocked. Completely speechless. But after that wore off, they both told me how it doesn’t change anything and they still support me.

“I could barely speak.”

Leslie canceled a dinner the Jablonskis were having with friends that night, and they took their son out to dinner alone. The next weekend, Leslie flew back to California to sit down with her son.

“As a parent, you wonder, ‘How did you not see this? How did you not know?'” Leslie says. “He had never shown any sign of being gay. As a teenager, he was in love with sports and so he never really had a girlfriend. He was always at the rink or on the tennis court or the baseball field and so that didn’t faze me at all. I just thought, ‘Good, he’s keeping out of trouble.’ But who knew that at the time he was wondering, ‘What was this all about?’ I had no idea. Neither did Mike.”

A few days after telling his parents, Jablonski FaceTimed his brother.

“There was such a big buildup to the FaceTime, I was just glad he wasn’t dying or something,” Max recalls with a laugh. “I was definitely surprised, but I just told him I’m going to love him for whoever he is no matter what he is. Our relationship won’t change and hasn’t whatsoever. I always want to be there to help.

“Actions speak louder than words, and over the last year, it hasn’t changed anything. In fact, it’s the same with all my friends I’ve told. Nothing’s changed.”

Jack and Max Jablonski. (Photo courtesy of Jack Jablonski)

One big thing Jablonski did not yet tell his parents or brother, though, was about the depression and thoughts of suicide that preceded coming out to them.

“I could only do one thing at a time and it was so hard to do that, just to look in their eyes and tell them,” Jablonski says.

Now that she knows, it pains Leslie’s heart that her son went through this alone.

“It just broke our hearts to think of the dark places he’s been and just the questioning of himself and trying to be honest with himself and not telling anybody,” she says. “I can’t even fathom how hard that had to be for him and how bad I feel for not being there for him. I always thought it was just the paralysis, it’s COVID, everybody’s sad, but I had no idea what he was struggling with. He’s shared a lot with me and I sometimes just break down and cry when I think of what he’s been through just by himself.”

Jablonski was thrust into the public eye at age 16. Ten years later, he’s one of the Twin Cities’ most recognizable people.

This past July, Jablonski, finally accepting of who he was, had plans to go out on a date with a guy in Minneapolis.

It still disappoints him to say, but he canceled the date because of fears from many close to him that he would be seen, that whispers would circulate and that he’d be outed.

Jablonski is 26 and has never been in a relationship. He yearns for companionship, wants to be happy and no longer wants to hide his true self. He dreams of a day when gay people in hockey, whether they’re working on the staff of a team or actually playing in the league, don’t feel the need to make a public proclamation.

Some in his family were ambivalent about his announcing publicly that he’s gay. They want to protect him and didn’t initially understand why he felt it necessary to disclose such details about his private life.

But that canceled date helped them see why their brother and son wants it out, once and for all, who he is. So he can move on. So he can live his life without worrying about whispers.

“I completely understand now and respect why he wants to do it,” Max says. “It makes me sick what he’s been through the last year and a half with the mental health problems and depression, let alone the last 10 what he’s dealt with. It’s not an easy life. As much as he puts a brave face on paralysis, when you’re the one actually living it, it definitely takes a toll on you. Then you add this burden he’d been feeling. So if going public is a way for him to find happiness, for him to be the person he is, that’s incredible and all any of us who are close to him could ask for.”

Adds Leslie: “He’s still the guy on a mission to find recovery for paralysis and get out of his chair. He’s still the guy raising money through the foundation to make that happen. He’s still the athlete, in his mind, that he always was. The only thing that changes is now we all know something that he knew about himself that we didn’t know.”

“I knew that to be happy, that meant freedom and that meant future companionship and being able to move forward in life and progress,” Jablonski says. “I’m not looking for marriage next week. I’m looking for the ability to move forward in life professionally, emotionally, personally, privately and just being able to be who I want to be. Because of my past, I feel the best way to go about that is just telling everyone.”

(Photo by Michael Russo for The Athletic)

On July 19, one day after his annual golf tournament, Jablonski met with key members of the Jack Jablonski Foundation’s executive board to begin the path toward coming out publicly. The foundation has raised more than $3 million to support spinal cord injury research, and he doesn’t want anything to affect that.

A week later, in large part because of Prokop’s message about the Predators’ support, Jablonski told Kelly Cheeseman, the Kings’ COO and a former Benilde-St. Margaret’s hockey player in the ’90s, and his executive assistant, Alicia Briones, whom Jablonski says is like the Kings’ “mother figure.”

Cheeseman had no idea why Jablonski called the meeting and was just relieved it wasn’t to inform them he was leaving the organization.

“We’re very proud of him. We love Jack,” Cheeseman says. “This doesn’t change anything in the world. I mean, I can certainly understand his concerns and fears in the general hockey world and in life, growing up, playing the sport the way that I did and he did. But I think in the professional world on the hockey side, and especially at the NHL level, things have changed dramatically.

“I think he just needed to take that step and realize that we’re all here for him, and we love him regardless. We’re an organization that preaches inclusivity on all levels, in all matters. And we’re going to echo that, support Jack, and continue to push our message of family, integrity, excellence and passion as part of our core values. And this is certainly an aspect of what we expect out of our fans and our employees, and we’re supportive of Jack.”

Jablonski has continued to receive support from those he’s told since: Mike Altieri and Jeff Moeller from the Kings communications department, who taught him in a night class at USC; Kings president and Hall of Famer Luc Robitaille; Kings goalie Cal Petersen, whom Jablonski has grown tight with and has Minnesota ties; and Minnesota Wild president Matt Majka, who is on his foundation’s board and runs an NHL team that backs many of Jablonski’s endeavors.

As the refreshing Southern California morning turns to afternoon, Jablonski continues to glow.

His face is shining as the sun reflects off his gelled hair and trimmed beard. And he is moving as well as he ever has, in large part because of the SpineX Upper Extremity Clinical Trial he has been accepted into. It’s helped him get more control and grip in his hands.

“I think it’s just best being able to tell my story, how I got here, who I really am, and then be able to just move forward with happiness and be who I want to be,” Jablonski says. “It’s just a fresh start and happiness in a world of hockey where gay people don’t exist. I’m not here to try to be some poster boy or something along those lines. I’m here to just explain the darkness I’ve felt.

“Looking back, you realize this has been a part of you, that I’ve been gay before I was paralyzed. You just hope that you can make it more acceptable and easier for anyone down the road.”

(Top photo: Michael Russo for The Athletic)

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