Hockey Will Break Your Heart

Who would have thought that I'd be out here in 2025 resurrecting a hockey blog from the depths of the internet graveyard? Wild. 

Things going on the last time I wrote: 

• Oilers were not making playoffs
• I was in university
• Andrew Ference was captain of the Oilers
• Being an Oilers fan was shameful 

Things going on now: 

• Oilers are in the playoffs
• I am 5 years into my career
• Connor McDavid is not only an Oiler - but the captain!
• Being an Oilers fan is the new hip, trendy thing

This is what brings me to where I am and to be writing this today, so without much more adieu, let's get at it. 

I considered renaming this page as "Confessions of a Jaded Fan" but ultimately, I decided to leave the questionable name up. 

I am fighting an internal war against the game of hockey. 

Every year, come playoffs where Draisaitl and McDavid carry out their usual antics but with a more concentrated spotlight on them, I get more inclined to gatekeep hockey. You hear people talking about hockey who are not interested in hockey at any other time of year - and my blood boils. 

Some of the following situations have made me grumble this off-season: 

• in-laws talking proudly about how they only watch hockey during playoffs 
• anyone talking about how they started watching in '06
• any fun little Oilers tiktok 
• the absolute butchering of statistics by fans who watch for two months a year 
• the sell-out of the corners of the hockey internet I used to love 
• hockey romance books romanticizing hockey culture
• Chris Pronger being on Hockey Night broadcasts

Because here's the thing, I've been around the hockey community for a long time and one thing I know is that hockey will break your heart, and until you roll through all the stages of that life cycle, you don't get it. Until then, I will continue to pass my judgement. 

Here's my hockey love and lore: 

The story goes that toddler-Amanda used to draw stick figures with the high-collar of Don Cherry on them. Couldn't write my name in lower case letters yet, but you bet your ass I was quiet during Coach's Corner and Hockey Night in Canada. 

Growing up in Edmonton in the early 2000s (and I guess technically half of the 90s), I wasn't in the hay day of the Oilers - not even really all that close. But at this time, there was still hope about the Oilers, memories carried on by the adults regarding their winning streaks, and the team wasn't bad.  

I have a whole set of hockey memories from ages 4 -7: 

• being a recurrent member of The McJunior Oilers Club
• attending autograph sessions when they were held in the basement of the SkyReach
• attending Skills Competitions when only a few hundred fans went
• being shown on the 'tron relatively frequently from our once-season seats (fun fact: that section was removed in the early 2000s)
• sitting on the blue seats of Rexall/SkyReach in a vertical position because I was too short otherwise
• fervently cheering for Georges Laraque
• cheering for Pittsburgh after getting a Pittsburgh cup from a vending machine
• collecting McDonalds collectable NHL collaborations

Out of all of this, I remember vividly hating the Dallas Stars. With passion. After all, it's like 2000 or 2001 and the Oilers are facing them every single year in the playoffs. 

Hockey was in my blood. Being a hockey fan was all that I knew and all I wanted to know. 

2006 rolls around and it's a wild ride. Our school's Ukrainian Easter celebration was filled with Oilers jerseys, jersey days in school, kids standing on streets with signs and cheering, Toys'R'Us filled with Oilers merch. I ran around in that silver and blue oil drop jersey, with an Oilers dog tag necklace, as often as I could.
It was fun to be a fan. It was fun to stay up for OT games even though you had school the next day. It was fun to talk about hockey with others. 

But hockey broke my heart. And not the moment that I whipped my Oilers necklace to the floor after the '06 loss to Carolina, it's been a continuous break over and over and over later in life. 

This is the story of why I judge hockey fans who are still all sunshine and roses. 

Hockey is not a welcoming community. Hockey is not an accepting community. Hockey is not a happy community. Hockey is not an enjoyable community. 

Hockey will not accept me for who I am. I am a woman, but a woman who does not abide by WAG mentality or appearances. But I dare to talk and be interested in hockey? Must be making it up. 
(The PWHL is working to heal that deep wound in me - so much love for those ladies) 

So what do you do when you are constantly being questioned and challenged on your interest and motivations? You insert yourself into the community, of course. 

• This is my third (I think?) iteration of a hockey blog. What a time the 2010s was. 
• I have a twitter account that was largely hockey focused - not successful, but it's where all my connections are
• I had a hockey tumblr, actually, a few
• I attended local events that were frequented by hockey internet personalities 
• I started networking with bloggers and others in the community 

I formed online friendships through Twitter, largely, with some other women who were interested in hockey. We were fun. The interactions were positive and supportive - but then the grumpy men found us and tried to tear us down. 

I attended events put on by a local blogging conglomerate and built friendships. I attended a ball hockey game in downtown Edmonton and hung out with hockey writers from Toronto. Things were positive, and I started to be more inclined to working within the industry; a few failed intern interviews later, I settled for working within retail adjacent to the team. 

I fully recognize that some of the treatment I received while working there was because I was working in the retail industry, but a large part was because I was a woman. I have a clear memory of training a new employee who was just lovely, but he was totally disinterested in hockey. Fine by me! A customer came in and we ended up talking about hockey playing brothers, I mentioned the Neidermayer brothers and how they were born in different provinces, but he didn't believe me, instead favouring to ask the jazz guitarist who doesn't watch hockey. Whatever. 

• This still happens - When I interviewed for my current job, my boss was impressed by the signed Oilers jersey that was behind me in the Skype interview and we talked about the Oilers. You know who hasn't been invited to the hockey pool since? Me. And any other women at work. 
• Last year during the playoffs, I was at a bar watch party and was talking with a coworker about Florida and where to beat Bobrovsky, earning an eye roll from him, but I earned an eye roll to him when they did exactly as I said. Right, I am not a fan and I certainly know nothing.

The thing about me is that I'm a good employee so I thrived in that job while I was in school. I got to spend time around my favourite sport, received a heavy discount on the merchandise I was buying anyways, and it was a chance to embrace and connect new fans. It was great - except when I was being questioned, ridiculed, and demeaned by staff, customers, and management. 

We are now in the mid/late 2010s and things are starting to shift in the world of hockey. 

Ben Scrivens is walking in Pride to represent the NHL. Maybe parts of me will be accepted in the hockey world, after all. 

But I was wearing out. I was a woman in a man's community. I was an employee, not a fan. I was working with the depths of the public in the Decade of Darkness. 

Going from the downfall of the Golden Age that I grew up in, the crash and burn of '06, and now deep into the darkness was brutal. The Oilers became a team that was cool to hate, and everyone jumped on that thought. Anyone who cheered for the Oilers must be in it for one of the players or not know anything. Certainly no one was bleeding orange and blue anymore, except I was from the fissure in my heart. 

Through all of this I am listening to hockey podcasts on my commute to school and while studying, I am reading through advanced stats in university classes, I am compiling thoughts and numbers in phone and laptop notes all day. But right, it's fine, I didn't know the sport and the Oilers sucked so therefore I shouldn't like them. That didn't stop me, but I did build up walls. 

My love of hockey died. I couldn't advocate for my own knowledge anymore. And worse than that, it was becoming apparent how badly others needed advocacy in hockey. The dark age of hockey was a bleak turning point. 

Things were coming out into the public. All the things that happened in dark corners, locked rooms, and with no mics were suddenly being revealed. We knew the things that were happening and it could not be denied. 

Akim. Devante. Tootoo. Brown. Dumba.  Players started to speak up. 

Now, we have the likes of EM, Anna Kane, and the survivor of Noah Corson. Women who have been vilified in the media for the things that men did. 

The NHL cancelled their celebratory nights. Pride Night? Gone. Hockey Fights Cancer? Gone. Black History Month? Gone. Sure, teams can still hold them and sell limited-edition jerseys, but they can't be officially recognized by the league. 

Bill Peters is employed by the WHL. 

Joel Quenneville has a job, but Kyle Beach was subject to the media storm of trying to remain anonymous. 

Patrick Kane got a new contract. 

Evander Kane has a contract, and all the "girls' girls" are cheering for him. 

The WHL has a history of players being caught uttering slurs and being picked up by other teams

Part of what was the most horrifying with all of these events is that people were not interested in the atrocities and how it needed to be better; people were interested in the mystery and the unsaid. As many quiet thoughts were being said aloud, there were still elements shrouded in shadows. 

Kyle Beach is an example of how it became a spectacle. Beach wanted to remain anonymous in the early proceeding and developments, but people became deeply invested in finding out the identity of the survivor. 

Reporters were our saving grace. In particular, Katie Strang and Rick Westhead carried the reporting field through the mess that hockey was becoming. 

Hockey fans are aware that hockey culture has been garbage for a long time. We are talking about a cost-prohibitive, time-prohibitive sport that was fond of hazing, violence, bullying, and racism. These quiet parts were slipping out. 

Many of us who had fathers growing up in the 70s and 80s also may bear a bit of a cross about their journey with hockey. I certainly do with when I realized all that happened for my dad to stop playing hockey as a team, yet, he doesn't seem to harbour the same frustration - at least outwardly. 

Everything that happened and continues to happen is a reminder that hockey is not the sanctuary I grew up understanding it to be. 

The little girl who grew up drawing Don Cherry collars on stick figures watched as Don Cherry was released from his position as racist comments started to slip. The girl who shook and cried after meeting Don Cherry at the airport lost a comfort figure in her comfort sport. 

Hockey was not a safe place anymore. 

Every playoff season I wrestle with these feelings. I enjoy watching hockey, and I love the sense of community that it affords me. But then the bandwagon fans show up the playoff fans start sounding off, the '06 followers are vocal, and the supposed-feminists are championing the Kanes. 

What these new, positive fans do not know is that hockey will break your heart. It won't be because your team loses in game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals, but it will be as you watch someone be ostracized and mistreated. You might have all the money to buy season seats and attend events, but your contribution is to the capital success of the team, not the improvement of culture or community. 

Hockey is not about winning or losing; hockey is about being a part of a community where you belong. Almost all of us do not belong in this community. And hockey doesn't care about us.