MILAN — Connor Hellebuyck looks angry. Like, all the time. There’s just something about that steely glare, the way his eyebrows dip in the middle, the way the tiny muscles at the corners of his mouth don’t seem capable of going up. This is a very serious man.
So it’s almost jarring to hear Hellebuyck use a word like “fun.” It’s akin to someone rapidly speaking in an unfamiliar language dropping in a name you recognize. Wait, did I just hear that right?
But believe it or not, Connor Hellebuyck is having fun in Milan.
“This is exciting,” he said, with absolutely zero excitement in his voice. “This is why I play the game. I don’t chase the money, I don’t chase the fame. I play for fun. And these are those moments that I really enjoy.”
Strange cat, this Hellebuyck. His Zen-like calmness in net is part of what makes him arguably the best goaltender on the planet. He never flails, never panics, never seems to scramble. He’s always in the right place, always making the difficult look routine through savvy anticipation and flawless mechanics.
“I just love his confidence, I love his calmness,” said United States teammate Matthew Tkachuk. “It’s exactly what you want in a No. 1 goalie.”
But the stillness masks a competitive ferocity that drives him to almost fanatical levels. He doesn’t smolder, he burns. Hellebuyck elicited chuckles last spring when he said, without a trace of irony in his voice, that he has probably studied the art and science of goaltending more than any person “in this world.” But he wasn’t kidding. He really does take his job that seriously. What he defines as “fun” is that pursuit of perfection.
And he’s come pretty darn close to finding it.
At 32 years old, Hellebuyck has already cemented his place as one of the most talented goalies the league has ever seen. He’s one of just 13 goalies in NHL history with three Vezina trophies, tied with the likes of Patrick Roy, Glenn Hall and Tony Esposito. He’s one of just eight who have won the Hart Trophy as the league’s most valuable player, and one of just three this century. He has saved 122 more goals than expected over the last three full seasons — 41 more than second-place Ilya Sorokin of the New York Islanders, per Evolving Hockey.
Hellebuyck’s resume and reputation from October through early April is unimpeachable. It’s those pesky spring months that have been the issue. His playoff performance over those same three seasons is rather ghastly. In 23 playoff games, he’s given up 13 more goals than expected, 47th out of 47 goalies who appeared in the 2023, 2024 and 2025 postseasons. His .922 save percentage from 2022-2025 is tied for best in the league, but in the playoffs, it dropped to .872, bad enough for 39th place. The Winnipeg Jets won just one series over those three postseasons, and Hellebuyck understandably drew the most scrutiny as the team’s best player.
A coronation in Milan might give the rest of the hockey world some confidence in Hellebuyck the next time the stakes are raised. (Jared C. Tilton / Getty Images)
Hellebuyck’s inability (so far) to win the big one has been as much a part of his story as his regular-season dominance. An injury this season cost him a month, and the Jets look like they’re going to miss the playoffs, meaning he’ll have to wait another year to shed that label as a big-game failure.
Unless he can do it in Milan.
Would the image of Hellebuyck with an Olympic gold medal slung around his neck — having conquered Sweden, having conquered Canada — be enough to change the narrative, to rewrite his legacy, to prove him a winner?
As the Olympic tournament enters the quarterfinal round on Wednesday, that’s the kind of rarefied air the eight teams left have reached. This is legacy stuff, the kind of thing they put in the first line of your obituary — or the first line of your Hockey Hall of Fame plaque. It’s a lot to wrap your brain around, and some players choose not to try. That mental burden can motivate you or crush you, and all athletes — from figure skater Ilia Malinin to snowboarder Eileen Gu to every NHL player on the United States, Canada and Sweden rosters — feel it.
How they handle it varies. Germany’s Nico Sturm tries to ignore it.
“We all deal with the pressure a little different,” Sturm said. “I always like to not let the moment get too big. You’re at the Olympics and you’re one win away from having a chance to play for a medal. But there’s no point in (spending) the next 20 hours telling yourself that, because you’re going to go crazy.”
Sweden coach Sam Hallam tries to use it.
“It’s important that you remind yourself at times where you are,” he said. “This isn’t Game 63 in the regular season. This is once every four years. Just embrace that as motivation.”
American Vincent Trocheck tries to focus it.
“The next game is part of that,” he said. “We have to worry about that one. You can’t get to the semifinal game without winning the quarterfinal game.”
Hellebuyck? He’s, well, calm about it. If the burden of history — and of his reputation — weighs on him at all, he certainly isn’t showing it. When discussing Wednesday’s quarterfinal against Sweden, he very much sounds like he’s discussing Game 63 of the regular season.
“No, it’s one day at a time,” he said when asked about it. “I’m enjoying myself and trying to get better. All I can do is put my best foot forward every day.”
That chill confidence is why his teammates, both in Winnipeg and in Milan, like playing in front of him so much. Asked what he learned about Hellebuyck at the 4 Nations Face-Off last February, Dylan Larkin said that he’s “a gamer,” adding there’s no one else he’d rather have in net. And Hellebuyck was excellent at the 4 Nations, posting a tournament-best .932 save percentage and allowing just five goals in three starts.
But he didn’t win. Jordan Binnington and Canada did. And while that blame hardly lies at Hellebuyck’s feet, the fact is Binnington made one more big save than he did. Binnington stopped Auston Matthews in overtime, Hellebuyck didn’t stop Connor McDavid. Three months later, he gave up five or more goals in four of his 13 playoff starts, losing to the Dallas Stars in Round 2 after barely escaping the St. Louis Blues in Round 1. The talk of Hellebuyck’s big-game struggles was never louder.
And it’s all fair. Hellebuyck’s trophy room is as impressive as any player’s in the NHL. But they’re all individual, all for the regular season. There’s no Stanley Cup. And there’s no gold medal. Not yet, at least.
No label is more offensive to a professional athlete than that of “choker.” It’s a term that’s probably too harsh for Hellebuyck, who is not solely to blame for the Jets’ inability to get past the second round of the Stanley Cup playoffs. But it’s not far off, either. Sports fans traffic in hyperbole the way Hellebuyck traffics in monotone clichés. So the label will follow him until he rips it off in triumph.
Would a gold medal be enough, or would the skepticism follow him into Winnipeg’s next playoff series, whenever that may be? Probably the latter, if we’re being honest. In the hockey world, the silver of Lord Stanley still trumps the gold of the Olympic Games. But it certainly wouldn’t hurt the public perception. It could, at the very least, nudge the narrative.
Internally? Hellebuyck doesn’t seem to feel any of it — the weight, the pressure, the stress. This is not a man who needs more confidence. To steal a phrase from him, perhaps no one in this world has as much confidence as Hellebuyck does. But a coronation in Milan might give the rest of the hockey world some confidence in him the next time the stakes are raised.
And who knows? It might even make him smile.
