October 27, 2026 by Michael Hebert

I don’t miss the rollercoaster that is Oilers fandom. If you could check my X timeline (@HeavyHockeyLive), you’d know exactly what I mean.

A few days ago, after a win over the Minnesota Wild, the parade route was being planned. Angels were singing. All was right in Oil Country.

Now? Nobody is safe. Trade everyone. Fire everyone. Somebody check whether Connor McDavid has a no-movement clause. Yet, last I checked, they’re still near the top of the league.

It’s an exhausting relationship. I know because I spent most of my life in it.

As many of you know, I’ve switched my allegiance to the San Jose Sharks, at least for this season. Plenty of people disagree with that decision. Some have expressed their disagreement with all the grace and restraint you’d expect from hockey fans on the internet. But I believe in something, and I’m not willing to let a sports team change that.

I don’t judge anyone for staying with the Oilers. Your relationship with your team is yours. Before judging me, though, think about a time you took a principled stand that cost you something. Walking away from something you’ve loved for decades isn’t easy. You don’t have to agree with my decision to respect that it was difficult.

One unexpected benefit has been the view from outside.

Without the Oilers-coloured glasses, I see the swings more clearly. I still understand the frustration, but I’m no longer riding every emotional elevator with everyone else. I’ve enjoyed that perspective. It has also made something about this team harder for me to ignore.

The Oilers have an extraordinary amount of talent. What I think they’re missing is personality.

Before someone sends me a spreadsheet, yes, I know championship teams need goaltending, depth, defence and execution. Nobody is suggesting a good goal celebration fixes a blown coverage.

But watching Edmonton, I keep coming back to the same question: Does this team actually look like it enjoys being this team?

There are moments, certainly. Winning brings them out. Too often, though, the whole operation feels weighed down by the expectation of what it’s supposed to accomplish. Every setback becomes a referendum (which is a dangerous word in Oil Country). Every answer sounds carefully measured. Even the joy seems to come with conditions.

From the outside, the Oilers organization can look like the place personality goes to die.

That might sound harsh. Look at the talent we’re talking about. At their best, Edmonton’s elite forwards and top defencemen can produce breathtaking hockey. The power play can make killing a penalty look like a deeply unfair career choice.

There should be some swagger attached to that. Some mischief. Some visible delight in being ridiculously good at hockey.

Give me more Griddy goal celebrations. Give me more Devin Cooley flow state. Give me more WillMack.

Give me players who look like they’re having the time of their lives and aren’t worried about whether somebody in a studio thinks they’re enjoying it incorrectly.

Even the Tkachuks understand the value of showing personality. That sentence was painful to type. My opinion of their antics remains available upon request.

Look at Carolina’s Storm Surge. It gives the team and its fans something to share beyond the score. You can think it’s goofy. Goofy is allowed. Hockey is a game played by people wearing knives on their feet while chasing a frozen rubber disc. We can survive a little silliness afterward.

That’s part of what I enjoy watching in baseball, too. The dugout celebrations, the rituals, the running jokes. The Milwaukee Brewers, Atlanta Braves and Toronto Blue Jays have all given me reasons to think about how much fun a team can be when its players let people see who they are.

Having fun doesn’t guarantee a championship. But I believe teams benefit when players feel comfortable being themselves. There’s value in a room where someone can break the tension, bring a little energy and remind everyone why they loved the game in the first place.

I don’t know everything that happens inside Edmonton’s dressing room. Few of us do. I’m talking about the team we see, the identity it projects and the experience of watching it.

I want to see more life.

I want leadership that makes room for different personalities. Players who can show frustration, joy and humour without every moment becoming a public inquiry. An organization comfortable enough with itself to let its people breathe.

And yes, I want principles. I care about what a team represents and the decisions it makes. That matters to me even when the hockey is spectacular.

For years, I watched the Oilers and imagined what all that talent could become. From this new vantage point, I still see the possibilities. I also see a team that too often appears burdened by them.

Maybe a little more freedom would help. Maybe a little more fun would give that talent room to flourish when the pressure gets heavy.

The parade route can wait.

Let’s see a pulse first.