Last night’s induction of six new members into the Hockey Hall of Fame in Toronto not only honoured the all-time greats of the game, but also showed the changing face of the sport itself. 

While there was a time when these yearly galas would focus on honouring our national pastime and the good ol’ Canadian boys who played it, last night’s event was evidence of how the sport has grown outside our narrow borders. Of the six inductees to the Hall, only two – Carey Price and Patrice Bergeron – were born here. The rest – Cindy Curley, Keith Tkachuk and Brian Burke – hailed from the U.S. while Pekka Rinne was born in Finland. 

This international and multi-gendered lineup signals that hockey’s traditional makeup is indeed evolving. Like it or not, it has become an international enterprise, played, watched and embraced around the world, with new audiences – and increasingly lucrative markets – beckoning at every turn.

And while the successful export of our national sport is certainly a point of pride, it also hurts a little that the game we invented, played as children and followed so intensely as adults is no longer solely our own. We’ve lost our monopoly on the top players or the best teams. The Stanley Cup, the holy grail of hockey, has not been won by a Canadian team since 1993. It’s almost as if our very birthright has been wrestled out of our hands and passed over to foreign interlopers.

But even as the sport grows beyond our control and our once all-pervasive influence shrinks, it remains the one distinctively Canadian pastime that unites us all. Despite inroads made by glitzier (and warmer) sports like basketball and soccer, Hockey Canada reports that registration has grown for the fourth consecutive year, with more than 600,000 girls and boys lacing up the skates and participating in local programs. The next generation, it seems, is still finding its way to the ice.

 

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And in no other country is a sport woven so intrinsically into its political and cultural identity as it is here. Consider the recent declaration by Prime Minister Mark Carney – backed up by no less a national icon than Wayne Gretzky – that Russians will not play at the 2027 World Junior Championships in Alberta. And we all remember how after Canada defeated the U.S. at the 4 Nation’s Face-Off final in 2025 – amid the furious rhetoric of the trade wars and threats to our sovereignty – then Prime Minister Justin Trudeau celebrated on social media: “You can’t take our country – and you can’t take our game.”

You can’t take our country — and you can’t take our game.

— Justin Trudeau (@JustinTrudeau) February 21, 2025

Yes, the game has grown beyond the frozen ponds, backyard rinks, local arenas and Hockey Night in Canada broadcasts where so many of us first fell in love with it. But even as it evolves and expands, it remains stitched into our national fabric. 

Few moments from last night’s ceremony captured that connection more powerfully than Carey Price’s emotional speech. His journey from the tiny Ulkatcho First Nation community of Anahim Lake, B.C., to the Hockey Hall of Fame is a reminder of how deeply the game reaches into the most remote corners of Canada – and how our passion for it can be all-consuming. “All I can ever really remember wanting to be was a hockey player. Growing up in a remote community, there was a very slim chance of this happening without a relentless desire and an opportunity,” he said.

Hockey is as much a part of our collective memory and national identity as the maple leaf itself. And while we may no longer own the sport, or dominate Hall of Fame inductions, we know, deep down in our hearts, that it still belongs to us.