If I Had Any Job… I’d Be Ilia Malinin (Or the Person Crazy Enough to Coach Him)
- spencerjr1
- Mar 3
- 3 min read
It’s okay to admit it.
You didn’t think I’d write a second article did you….
Honestly?
Neither did I.
But here we are. Month two of my self-imposed experiment in writing about careers I’m wildly unqualified for, but shockingly interested in — and this month’s subject? The Quad God himself, Ilia Malinin.
There’s a certain kind of moment that makes you stop scrolling.
Not because it’s loud. Not because it’s trending. But because you’re watching something actually change in real time.
That’s what watching Ilia feels like.
Now, to be clear:
I do not want to be an Olympic figure skater.
I enjoy my ankles. And gravity and I have a very respectful, mutually agreed-upon relationship.
But if I could borrow any job — or better yet, any mindset- this month, it would be his.
Or maybe the coach standing just off the ice, nodding calmly while physics quietly files a formal complaint.
Ilia isn’t just landing quads.
He’s redefining his sport’s ceiling.
Quad after quad. Moves that look like slow-motion miracles. A confidence that doesn’t feel reckless — it feels inevitable.
Game changers don’t look like they’re gambling.
They look like they’ve already done the math.
And here’s what fascinates me most:
Ilia is wildly creative.
But he operates inside boundaries.
He can’t skate out of the rink mid-program. He can’t suddenly introduce props. He can’t turn a short program into experimental theater because he “felt inspired.” Even if he does dress like Vecna from Stranger Things!
There are rules. There’s a system. There’s a defined space.
And inside that space — he creates something no one else can.
That’s mastery.
Years ago, I had the privilege of working on content for Team USA, during a time when Liberty Mutual Insurance proudly sponsored both Olympic and Paralympic athletes.

It meant traveling all over — early mornings, snowy mountaintops, and GoPros… lots and lots of GoPros! — capturing stories of athletes whose excellence was anything but glamorous.
What stuck with me then — and still does now — is how structured greatness actually is.
The magic lives inside discipline.
That’s what resonates with me as a Creative Director.
Creativity is not unlimited freedom.
It is expression inside of constraint.
Brand standards. Timelines. Budgets. Legal reviews. Stakeholders with…. very strong opinions.
That’s our rink.
You don’t get to ignore the boundaries. You learn to create inside them. (Unless you subscribe to the notion that all press... is good press!)
And here’s another parallel that feels important.
No matter what Ilia does — he’s going to be criticized.
When he landed that insane backflip, some people (like me) thought it was electric. Bold. Next-level.
Others? Doctors warning about danger. Purists arguing it disrupts competitive balance. Voices insisting he should stay within tradition.
Sound familiar?
If you lead creative work long enough, you learn this:
Every big swing splits the room.
There will always be people who say it’s brilliant. There will always be people who say it’s reckless.
The skill isn’t avoiding criticism.
It’s knowing when the push is worth it.
I’m not afraid of my ideas getting torn apart.
That’s the process.
Ideas should be tested. Debated. Stressed until the weak parts give way.
The real leadership moment is deciding:
Do we push forward? Or do we pull back?
Ilia doesn’t attempt a third quad because it’s flashy.
He attempts it because the preparation is there — and because pushing that boundary serves the performance.
That’s not chaos.
That’s courage informed by discipline.
It’s not lost on me that I’m posting this on Friday the 13th.
A day traditionally associated with bad luck.
As Ilia skates for gold today, it won’t be luck.
It’ll be ambition over safety. Preparation over comfort. Belief over precedent.
Long before the world was watching.
That’s how breakthroughs actually happen.
On the ice. In creative work. Anywhere the stakes are real.
Now… go get that Gold! And Go Team USA!!


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