He's easy to spot, and there was no stopping him.
In the long human story of sport, bodies have always tested the boundaries of what a game was designed to hold. Alexander Karmanov, a seven-foot-one Moldovan prospect, became the tallest player ever selected in an NHL Draft when the San Jose Sharks chose him in the seventh round — three inches taller than any man to have worn a professional jersey before him. At a prospect development game in San Jose, he answered the oldest question asked of oversized athletes: not whether he belonged, but whether he could move. The answer, at least for one afternoon, was more complicated and more promising than the skeptics had allowed.
- At 7'1", Karmanov carries a physical presence so extreme that even the record he broke — Zdeno Chara's — falls three full inches short of him, making every comparison feel inadequate.
- Social media had already rendered its verdict before he touched the ice, circulating clips of his unconventional stride as evidence that a man his size simply could not play the game at a competitive level.
- During the Sharks' prospect game, Karmanov's skating proved neither elegant nor quick — but it was relentless, and once he committed to moving, defenders found themselves with no answer.
- His reach and puck-shielding ability transformed his size from a liability into a weapon, making it nearly impossible for average-sized opponents to strip him of the puck when he was properly positioned.
- Years from NHL readiness, Karmanov is expected to dominate lower-level competition in the OHL before joining Penn State in 2027, where he will represent something college hockey has genuinely never seen.
Alexander Karmanov arrived at the San Jose Sharks' development camp carrying a single, inescapable question: could a man built like a skyscraper actually play hockey? At seven feet and one inch, the Moldovan prospect had just become the tallest player ever selected in an NHL Draft — three full inches taller than Zdeno Chara, the previous record holder. The Sharks had taken him in the seventh round after a season with the OHL's North Bay Battalion, and in 2027 he is set to commit to Penn State. His story, in a draft class full of compelling ones, was about size and all the uncertainty that comes with it.
The primary concern was always mobility. Social media had already circulated clips of his skating with unkind commentary before the prospect game began. What followed, however, was more complicated than the internet's verdict. His stride was neither quick nor graceful, but it was effective — when he committed to moving the puck up the ice, he covered ground with an inevitability that proved genuinely difficult to defend against.
The physical advantages became harder to dismiss once you watched him play. His reach was extraordinary, making it nearly impossible for defenders to separate him from the puck. When he shielded correctly, an average-sized opponent had little recourse. The conventional wisdom about tall players — that they sacrifice agility for size — seemed to be something Karmanov was quietly dismantling, turning his frame into a weapon rather than a liability.
A prospect game is not the NHL, and Karmanov remains years from that leap. But the early evidence suggested he could be a genuine problem at every level he faces before then. The question was no longer simply whether he could skate. It was what he might become once he learned to fully wield what he already is.
Alexander Karmanov glided 200 feet up the ice at the San Jose Sharks prospect game, his seven-foot-one frame moving with a purpose that silenced the skeptics, at least for an afternoon. The Moldovan prospect had arrived at the development camp carrying the weight of a single, inescapable question: could a man built like a skyscraper actually play hockey?
The numbers alone were staggering. At seven feet and one inch, Karmanov had just become the tallest player ever selected in an NHL Draft—three full inches taller than Zdeno Chara, the previous record holder. The San Jose Sharks had taken him in the seventh round after a season with the OHL's North Bay Battalion, and in 2027 he would commit to Penn State, one of college hockey's rising programs. But the draft class had been full of compelling stories: Gavin McKenna heading to Toronto, Caleb Malhotra joining his father's Vancouver organization, Jaxon Cover going to Ottawa as a player who had only discovered ice hockey five years after learning inline skating in the Cayman Islands. Karmanov's story was different. His was about size, and all the questions that came with it.
The primary concern was always going to be mobility. When you're that tall, the assumption goes, you move like a building. Social media had already begun circulating clips of Karmanov's skating, and the commentary was not kind. But what happened during the Sharks' prospect game suggested something more complicated than the internet's initial verdict. His stride was not quick. It was not graceful. But it was effective. When he committed to moving the puck up the ice, he covered ground with an inevitability that was difficult to defend against. There was no stopping him once he got going.
The physical advantages became clear once you watched him play. His reach was extraordinary—a mile-long extension that made it nearly impossible for defenders to separate him from the puck. If he positioned his body correctly and shielded the puck, an average-sized opponent might as well have skated to the bench for a line change. The conventional wisdom about tall players in hockey is that they sacrifice agility for size. Karmanov seemed to be finding a way to weaponize the size itself, turning his frame into an asset rather than a liability.
Of course, a prospect game is not the NHL. What works against developing talent does not necessarily translate to the professional level. Karmanov is still years away from being ready for that jump. But the early evidence suggested he could dominate the levels he would face in the near term. The OHL would likely see him as a problem for every team he played against. Penn State, when he arrived in 2027, would have to account for a player unlike anything else in college hockey. The question was no longer whether he could skate. It was what he would do once he figured out how to use his size as a weapon.
Notable Quotes
If he shields the puck with his body, you may as well skate to the bench for a line change because you're not getting the puck.— Sports analyst on Karmanov's physical advantages
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
When you watched him move that puck 200 feet, what surprised you most?
That he didn't look awkward doing it. You expect a seven-foot-one player to move like he's apologizing for taking up space. Instead, he just moved forward and nothing stopped him.
But his skating isn't fast, right? That's what the internet was saying.
No, it's not fast. It's not pretty either. But effective is a different thing. He covers ice. He gets there. And once he's there, you can't move him.
Is that enough at the professional level?
Not yet. He's a couple of years away. But in the OHL, in college? I think every team he faces is going to have to build a game plan around him. That's not nothing.
What's the real advantage here—the reach, or the body position?
Both. The reach is obvious. But if he learns to use his body as a shield the way some of the older big men do, he becomes almost immovable. You're not getting the puck back.
So the doubts about his skating—were they overblown?
Maybe. Or maybe they were about the wrong thing. People wanted him to move like a smaller player. He's not going to do that. But he doesn't need to.