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 their 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. Photo: George Gojkovich / Getty Images
One day Malecki was hanging out with his 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)