Where Twine Meets the Timeline: How Logan Gauthier Translates Hockey for a New Generation

Interview by Christina Winnegar | December 18, 2025

Logan Gauthier did not expect anything to come from the first TikTok he posted during a late fall night in 2020. He had spent weeks doing what everyone else was doing – scrolling, watching, building their For You page while the app was still finding its own groove. 

It was neither planned nor strategic. He was inspired by an audio he had heard and quickly recognized how closely it mirrored the humor behind the hockey culture he was surrounded by. That simple spark of inspiration led him to create the video that would mark a new chapter in his life, content creation. At the time, the video was nothing more than another extension of the sport that had already shaped most of his life.

There were no results until two days later, when the video suddenly started to blow up.

By the time he went back to school the following Monday, people were talking, noticing. The video had reached far beyond the small circle of his teammates as followers, and the response surprised him. Out of the gate, the video crossed the million-view mark. Within days, his account had grown to more than 14,000 followers simply from the initial video alone. 

“Growing up as a shy person, I learned to show people who I was not through words, but through the things I loved – competing in sports, excelling in school, and exploring creative outlets that allowed me to shine,” he expressed. “So posting on TikTok became a new outlet for my creativity and the response gave me both confidence and motivation.”

For Gauthier, it did not feel like a page turning into a new chapter yet, but for him, it felt like something worth continuing.

Long before social media, hockey had already structured his life.

Gauthier began playing a year early. At 4 years old, he was skating with 5 year olds, able to keep up and belong on the ice. His older brother was on the same team for two seasons, setting the pace both on and off the ice. Competing alongside him became instinctive. 

“The funny thing is, I always felt like I belonged on the ice,” he said.

That sense of belonging followed him home to Pembroke, Ontario, where hockey was not an activity one discovered to fill time, but rather a rhythm intertwined with the culture of the Ottawa Valley. The town is known for hosting the annual International Silver Stick Tournament, one of the most recognizable youth hockey events in North America. For Gauthier, it was not just another tournament; it was an early introduction to the scale of the sport and the reach of his passion.

By age eight, Gauthier began playing spring AAA hockey, competing in tournaments that drew teams from across Canada and the United States. Those weekends meant unfamiliar opponents, packed schedules and a level of intensity that demanded commitment. The exposure accelerated his development, not just as a player, but also his understanding of what commitment means: consistency. For nearly a decade, his calendar was filled with nothing but hockey.

“If my parents took the time to drive me a few hours every day to and from hockey, the least I could do was go out on the ice and give it my all,” he said.

The effort reflected in his opportunities. He played in elite competition early, against current National Hockey League (NHL) players like Chicago Blackhawks goaltender Spencer Knight. He learned under coaches who had played in the professional league, including former NHL player Jason York. The pace was nonstop for almost a decade, and eventually, it caught up to him.

Come high school, the motivation to travel wore thin. The distance began to hinder other desired paths; it cost more than it returned. Gauthier made a decision that would define the rest of his path in the sport – he turned down the offer to play for the Kanta AAA U18 team at 15 years old and came home.

Returning to Pembroke was a recalibration.

The result was back-to-back championships in his final years of minor hockey, earned with a team that understood what it meant to win together. First year as an underdog. Second and final as a leader. Both were rooted in pride for a hometown that had invested in him from the very beginning. 

“It’s a great feeling, knowing you can make a difference in a game and that’s what I tried to do every time I stepped out on the ice,” he said. “Winning that year was a great way to tie a bow on my minor hockey career.”

By then, hockey had already taught him its central lesson: nothing lasts unless you are willing to show up for it every day.

Gauthier’s victory lap year was the next inflection point in his journey, an extra year of high school that was not about delaying the life he desired but preparing for it.​​ Through this moment, Gauthier stepped into a digital space that would allow him to expand his voice beyond the rink. 

TikTok did not replace hockey. It translated it to a new audience.

What began in 2020 as a single post quickly turned into a habit, not out of obligation but out of familiarity, to express creativity while being present in the world of ice hockey. The rhythm of content creation felt recognizable: try something, see what works, adjust, repeat. The same pattern followed in athletics.

The content that resonated most was always embedded in authenticity. It consisted of relatability, inside jokes, equipment debates and even education. The parts of the sport everyone recognizes as a routine but rarely reflect on. Nothing forced. 

“I just wanted to make hockey stuff,” he said. “Stuff people could relate to.”

The response widened quickly, to almost 300,000 followers combined across TikTok and Instagram. What surprised him the most, though, was not the growth in numbers but where it came from. His impact stretched to communities where hockey did not thrive. Messages started to arrive from places without a population of ice hockey players to those who had never laced up skates or watched a full game, but were learning through his content.

“I’ll get a message from someone saying, ‘I’m from Brazil, and I know nothing about hockey, but I watch your content because it helps me learn,’” he remembered. 

That mattered most to him. Not because of numbers, but because it mirrored who he was becoming off the ice.

What he was creating was no longer just humor for players who already understood the ins and outs of the game. It had become a translation. Education. A point of entry for people meeting the game for the first time.

In many ways, the role mirrored what he had grown up with. Both of Gauthier’s parents were educators. Balance mattered in his household and in his education. When the junior route would have inhibited his ability to give his all in his education, he chose university instead – not because hockey did not matter, but because everything else did too.

“I didn’t want to delay my schooling,” he stated. “I had to make a choice on what I should do and why I should do it.”

By his second year of university, the lines between creator and educator began to converge. Gongshow Hockey reached out first, a brand he had grown up wearing, and with it came the realization that this could be more than just a hobby. 

The picture of his future began sharpening. It was not just about creating content; it was about establishing something that would last.

“That was the first moment I realized this was more than just entertainment,” he recalled.

Brands followed alongside Canadian Cycle and Motor Company (CCM), events and collaborations. Over time, the partnerships grew to more than 100 brands. Yet his approach never shifted. He speaks about the opportunities with gratitude, not expectation.

As his time in university continued, teaching eventually stopped being a goal and became a classroom.

Grade 8 students recognized him from his content before introductions began. Others quickly learned of his impact outside the classroom walls. Questions followed, sticks, skates, routines. Those questions became conversations, which in turn became connections. Hockey, the same sport that taught him discipline, became the bridge that helped him reach students who might otherwise not have been as involved.

On his final day, he brought in sponsored gear to share with the class. Sports drinks, equipment, all reflections of the questions that began the connection he associated with the classroom. All rooted in a gesture. Something tangible, something that made education feel relevant. 

“It’s just a way to connect,” he said. “To make things relatable.”

Teaching did not change how he approached content creation. It confirmed it.

“In a way, it’s like I’m teaching in a different sense,” he said. “Just helping people learn.”

The overlap is natural. In the classroom, he draws the same skills that built his platform: communication, awareness and authenticity. Online, he carries the same responsibility he feels when he is standing in front of students.

He understands visibility comes with the heavy weight of impact.

The most rewarding memories of Gauthier’s creator journey did not come from only a viral clip or brand deal. They came when he stepped into situations that forced him out of everything familiar. Where the educator becomes the learner.

The clearest example came last summer in Texas. He was invited to take part in a goalie-only hockey game, a full-contact event where every participant, regardless of position, wore goalie equipment. Forward, defenseman, creators, everyone in the same pads. 

It was more than just a game; it was a means of stepping out of one’s comfort zone. Trying something new, a message was relayed to his students. 

“The only time I’d ever played goalie before was when you’re a kid and everyone takes turns,” he remembered. 

This was vastly different, all in the name of connecting with those he would not have had the chance to meet prior, other creators and even supporters of his. The weekend included a draft party, meet-and-greets, VR competitions, and fan interactions. A reminder that the game, at its core, is still about connection. 

Whether it is stepping into a classroom, explaining hockey to someone who has never seen the sport before, or strapping on goalie pads in front of a sold-out crowd, his instinct is the same. Say yes, figure it out and show up authentically.

Gauthier’s path was never without intention. The decisions he made through sacrifice that led to success, between competition and responsibility, guided him through every stage. The weight where sacrifice meets success and the competitive mindset that pushed him forward never left his spirit.

Even now, balancing teachers' college, brand obligations and content creation requires the same discipline he learned in youth programs and on long car rides to the rink. When burnout comes up, he does not frame it as pressure. He frames it as a great responsibility to the people watching, to the children that look up to him, to the game that gave him opportunity and to the future he is still building. 

“Always treat people the way you wish to be treated. In hockey, there’s a respect for the game, respect for

the players, respect for yourself. This translates from the ice to the classroom very well. I have just started

my teaching career but I can see there are many parallels between sports and the classroom. I will model

this on the ice or in the classroom and hope my students follow my lead,” Gauthier said.

The road life took him down was unexpected. But it makes sense when you trace it backwards. A kid from Pembroke who learned the value of effort early, who chose balance over shortcuts, who found a new way to give back to a sport that raised him without leaving it behind. 

His future, by his own admission, is not written. But the direction is clear. 

His story now lives between ‘For You’ pages and classrooms, in a way he has found to keep both honest and true to his message. Not replacing one path with another, but allowing them to intersect. Because with great power comes great responsibility. 

Where ultimately twine meets the timeline.