
I spent part of this morning doing what I usually do before sitting down to write — reading around, listening carefully, trying to figure out what other people think the story is before deciding whether I agree with it. In the process, I ran into a familiar strain of Canucks commentary that’s been gaining traction since Quinn Hughes left town.
The hockey analyst framed it as “if” the Canucks want to tank — but then laid out the case as though they should. It didn’t take much to read between his lines.
The argument goes something like this: the subsequent wins were a façade. Nice to watch, maybe, but ultimately meaningless because they can’t be sustained. The “hybrid rebuild” Patrik Allvin talked about is framed not as flexibility but as confusion. The team’s surprising success after the Hughes trade is likely short-lived and has left it unsure whether it wants to compete or collapse. From there, the conclusion comes quickly and confidently: the Canucks should tank.
Get rid of everything that stands in the team’s way of losing. Clean slate. Get to the draft. Start over properly.
What’s interesting is how the case is built. According to this line of thinking, Vancouver has two fundamental problems. These are not bad contracts or missing stars; they are good players who would do anything in their power to avoid losing.
Thatcher Demko wins too many games. Kiefer Sherwood competes too hard because he refuses to accept nights off. In this framework, both become obstacles. These players are no longer assets, but problems to be “exorcised.” Why? Because their work ethic and heart interfere with losing efficiently.
That’s the part of the argument that made me believe it was wrong-minded from the start.
The problem is that Demko and Sherwood are exactly the players teams usually spend years trying to find. A goaltender who demands structure in front of him, because it would be embarrassing not to play hard for someone who lays everything on the line. A depth forward who drags standards up with him just because he won’t have it any other way.
And yet in this logic, they’re recast as problems, not because they lack value, but because they have too much of it — because they make it harder to be bad on purpose.
And I can’t help but wonder what lesson that teaches the rest of the lineup. The young players who are still trying to earn a place. The recent arrivals who are looking for a footing. The kids who are grinding for shifts to stay in the NHL. What does it say when effort becomes expendable, and being competitive becomes inconvenient?
Maybe tanking is logical. In some world that makes sense to a lot of people, perhaps it’s even necessary. But before laying out that logic, it’s worth asking a quieter question — what kind of habits are being taught along the way, and whether “cheating to lose” is really something a team should be asking its players to learn.
Call me old and silly, but it’s not good enough for the team I want the Canucks to become.
It’s hard not to notice that the case for tanking — for removing players who compete too hard and win too often — was presented by a hockey analyst sponsored by Uber Canada. That detail is more than cosmetic. Because the logic being applied to the Canucks only holds if you believe performance becomes a problem when it interferes with a preferred outcome.
If Uber operated this way, it would sideline its best drivers for being too reliable, allow missed pickups to reset expectations, and justify inconsistent service as a necessary step toward profit. No serious company thinks like that. They don’t weaken their core habits in pursuit of a theoretical payoff. They protect the standards that keep the business running. Hockey isn’t so different. You don’t build toward something better by teaching people that doing the job well is optional.
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