Hockey has been part of my life for so long that I sometimes forget how extraordinary some of my early experiences were. I don’t bring them up to impress anyone — they’re simply how I grew up to understand the game. They’re the memories that shape the way I watch a shift, the way I read a player’s game, the way I sense momentum turning.
I remember the day I got Gordie Howe’s autograph at Park Place Mall in West Vancouver in 1966. There was theatre to it — the line‑up, the anticipation, the sense of meeting someone larger than life. By then Howe had to be fully aware of his own legend. He signed with the same deliberation he carried on the ice, the calm of a man who knew exactly who he was and what he does. Meeting Gordie Howe felt like a handshake with the game itself.
Around that same age, I watched Bobby Clarke play against the Edmonton Oil Kings in the old Gardens. Clarke wasn’t yet the captain or the face of a Philadelphia Flyers franchise built on grit and defiance into of a dynasty. He was a Major Junior star with an equally gifted sidekick, Reggie Leach. Even then, you could see the edge — Clarke and Leach, Sharp and Sharper, carving out the early outlines of what they would become.
That same week I saw them, I scored a couple of goals in the Mite A city championship, and somehow it all felt connected. Hockey has a way of making even the smallest victories feel like part of a larger story.
Then there were the nights — more than I can easily count — when I watched Wayne Gretzky play live in Edmonton. Not on television. Not in highlight packages. In the Edmonton Coliseum, in person, a couple dozen times at least. Before the league turned him into a myth, he was simply a young man rewriting the geometry of the sport in real time. You could feel the building lean forward when he touched the puck. You could sense the room tilt. Those nights weren’t entertainment. They were history being experienced.
These are the things to explain my perspective on hockey. That’s why NHL Late Hour is expanding coverage after a couple of seasons focused on a single team (the Oilers). The league has parity, and I’ve been watching hockey long enough to know when it’s time to widen the lens. Late Hour enters a new chapter.
Hockey is a timeline for me. It’s how I mark winter, how I remember the world when the rink is freshly flooded and the rink lights were bright stars. The game is faster now, sharper, more tactical, but the essence of excellence doesn't change. The outstanding nature of the stars remains the same — McDavid, Staal, Celebrini, Crosby, Bedard, Marner. It remains the place where a season can hinge on a bad bounce, a broken stick, an unfortunate injury, or a rookie who suddenly discovers his scoring touch.
The rhythms of the past still matter. Bussi played shutout hockey — a fundament in a Stanley Cup Final. A goaltender can carry a franchise, but the superstar scorers and playmakers give the NHL its wide landscape. The stories worth telling don’t stop on any particular home ice.
As of June 15, NHL Late Hour expands to league‑wide coverage. Next season, 2026–27, will feature two games a week from across the divisions, along with special articles on players, trends, and the odd corners of pro hockey that sometimes don’t get the attention they deserve.
This won’t be corporate coverage or be affiliated with any team or network. It won’t chase controversy or noise. It will be steady, thoughtful, and grounded in the long arc of the sport.
Two games a week means interesting game analysis — not box‑score recaps. We look for the small things: a winger’s shift in the line-up, scoring streaks, winning streaks, a player's growth in the roster, a defenseman’s decision‑making under pressure, a coach’s adjustments between periods. Hockey is a game of mistakes, but the unmaking of them is what matters.
The special editions will explore stories behind the standings: the journeyman who’s played for seven teams in nine years, the goalie who rebuilt a quiet career in the minors, the assistant coach who keeps shaping systems. These are the threads that give the league its texture.
This is a rare moment when I speak in the first person. But it feels appropriate. Hockey has been a companion for most of my life, and NHL Late Hour is simply the next step in that conversation.
The league is a big place. Time and technology allow me to take a wider look from the Pacific Coast as the daily schedules wind down.
By Mack McColl, in collaboration with Copilot for McColl Magazine Public Safety
