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As difficult as it’s been to process, it’s good to know that I’m not alone. And neither are you. So go ahead and fill in the blank here: “Holy fuck. Hi, my name is [your name], I’m a Vancouver Canucks fan, and I want Brad Marchand to win the Stanley Cup.”

And, no, you don’t have to feel like you’ve sold out everything that you once held sacred. You aren’t the only one shocking yourself this spring as Marchand’s Florida Panthers and Edmonton Oilers do battle for hockey’s most holy of holiest grails. Here, let’s prove it.

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Speaking from a purely personal perspective though, here’s the weird thing. I spent much of the past decade and a half years hating Marchand for 2011, when he was a key part of the Boston Bruins beating the Vancouver Canucks to win the Stanley Cup. Every time he played Vancouver in the years after that he’d either score, do something stupid on the ice, or both. If the Canucks had one maddening, endlessly grating nemesis, it was the Bruins’ number 63.

Marchand was the NHL’s king rat—the greatest agitator in the game. Hating him wasn’t just easy, it’s was a proudly embraced pastime, and not just in Vancouver. I was all-in—loving the sight of him sitting in tears on the bench every time Boston was eliminated from the playoffs post-2011. And that makes it a shock that, now, I’ve come to admire the Panthers’ most-prized 2025 trade-deadline acquisition. Actually, admire is too soft a word—I’ve become a legitimate fan of the player I once described as the “NHL’s number-one shitstain for the game’s purists”. (Matt Cooke must have been on vacation that week.)

Part of the fan-boying has, admittedly, been tied into not wanting any Canadian team not named the Ottawa Senators or Winnipeg Jets to win the Stanley Cup this year. (Rather than recap the myriad of reasons for those who missed them a couple of months back, click here).

Because of everything Donald “TACO” Trump has been doing to ruin the US since moving back into the White House this past January, we’re supposedly obligated as Canadians to have a hate-on for an America poisoned by MAGA. Fine—elbows up, buy Canadian, and don’t shop at Walmart. But, sorry, when it comes to rooting for hockey teams in the playoffs, the idea we have to “bring the cup home” to Canada is flat-out idiotic.

Here’s the thing: most American hockey fans don’t hate the Vancouver Canucks. In Canada, meanwhile, every fan base except that of the Sens and Jets has made it clear it does hate the Canucks. And, truthfully, we don’t care. But why the fuck should we be expected to root for the hillbillies, rednecks, and inbreds who pull for the “Oil”, when those same redneck hillbilly inbreds went to Interweb war with us in Round 2 of last year’s playoffs?

So with the Oilers, unfortunately, in the finals this year, any Panthers dragon slayer is a good dragon slayer. And no dragon slayer has, to date, inflicted more damage on the Edmonton Oilers than Marchand. A crucial Game 2 of the Stanley Cup brought a breakaway goal in double overtime from number 63. Monday’s Florida beatdown of the Oilers saw Marchand opening the scoring, and then spend the rest of the game tormenting the Edmonton bench.

As the likes of Evander Kane took stupid penalty after stupid penalty en route to a decisive loss, it was Marchand taunting the Oilers, tapping his hands on his helmet and suggesting that the members of the entirely rattled Edmonton team think about using their heads.
Still, hoping Marchand gets to hoist the Stanley Cup again, this spring, goes deeper than despising the Oilers.

At the risk of understating things, Canucks fans have traditionally had something of a difficult relationship with man currently wearing number 63 for the Florida Panthers. Old wounds never truly heal, and Marchand has inflicted numerous deep ones on Vancouver hockey fans over the years.

Start with his, as a rookie, lighting up Roberto Luongo for five goals in the 2011 finals, including two goals and an assist in the game that clinched his Boston Bruins the cup in Vancouver, sparking a riot. Other trauma-inducing memories from that series—all which still sting today—include his speed-bagging the head of Daniel Sedin in game 6 of those finals while his fellow Canucks, and referee Clueless Kelly Sutherland, stood there and watched. His explanation later for turning Sedin into his own personal punching bag was a simple “Because I felt like it.”

Video of Brad Marchand makes Daniel Sedin nod his head to the rhythem of his fist

The first time Marchand and the Bruins met the Canucks the following season, number 63 delivered a low-bridge hit to Sami Salo that was ugly enough to warrant a suspension. And so it went for years, Marchand terrorizing not just Vancouver, but the entire league, taking endless cheap-shot jabs after whistles, running his mouth nonstop on the ice, and famously licking the faces of opposing players during playoff runs.

As of 2025, Marchand remains the most suspended player in the history of the NHL, usually for clipping and slew-footing. For years, he was a clown and idiot, pilloried by everyone from Don Cherry to the Canucks faithful to yours truly. Hating him was easy. And then, suddenly, it wasn’t.

It’s hard to totally pinpoint what changed. For Canucks fans, the move from Boston to Florida at this year’s trade deadline definitely helped jettison some of the ultra-heavy old baggage. He was no longer the face of THAT TEAM.

Then there was all of the Great White North cheering on Marchand this past February, when he suited up for Canada at the 4 Nations Face-Off, proving a favourite with teammates that he normally drives insane in NHL games. How did we know? That would be shot-in-the-dressing-room clips posted on social media which showed that there are those who sit in their stalls quietly drinking it all in, and those whose personalities are larger than the modern-day Keith Tkachuk. Marchand was the guy marching around the dressing room, showered with love from his teammates as he heaped praise on all those he was going to war with.

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That kind of bonding has continued this Panthers playoff run, where Instagram and Facebook shorts have made it clear that he no longer exclusively bleeds Boston Bruins black and yellow. Every time Florida wins a game, we’ve seen a new tradition: Marchand standing on the ice as his teammates lovingly pelt him with the plastic rats that have rained down from the stands.

But where the evolution of Brad Marchand has been truly fascinating is his play—the poking, jabbing, trash-talking, and other behind-the-whistle shit that marked the early part of his career rarely creeps in—except, maybe, when he’s suggesting the opposition use their heads. Instead, he just scores, and assists, and scores again while mostly keeping out of the box—a man on a mission to be the hockey player everyone wants on their team.

Perhaps even more fascinating has been the way Marchand has handled himself in interviews and press conferences after games. There’s no way to make someone inherently unlikable seem likable. Consider the way Mark Messier always seemed like an unrepentant asshole as a player (with Edmonton, the New York Rangers, and Vancouver Canucks) and as a Lay’s potato chip pimp, and how he seems like kind of a humourless asshole while working as an analyst today.

At the age of 37 in an increasingly young man’s game, Marchand knows his career is far closer to the end than the beginning. And rather than being sour about it, he’s showcased himself as relatably human this entire playoff rant. He’s turned his love of Dairy Queen Blizzards into a go-to comedy bit. And he’s answering post-game questions like someone putting a genuinely thoughtful effort, instead of resorting to “I’m just trying to help the team by giving 100 percent, and the next game is a big one but we’re all in this together.”

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Nowhere was he more affable than after his Game 2 interview with Sportsnet’s Gene Principe, where, after flashing a genuine smile, he explained his ongoing love for hockey with this: “We’re kids, you know—we’re old kids. I think that’s the biggest thing that we’re living our life-long dream, and we all have such a short window to enjoy it and you want to hold onto it for as long as you can. But we all have a shelf life, and when you see it start coming to an end, you appreciate the days even more.”

Kind of like the way it’s now possible to appreciate Brad Marchand, unthinkable as that once seemed in these parts. We’ve seen Corey Perry and Evander Kane lose their shit in this series, especially in Game Three. Marchand, meanwhile, seems to be someone who gets the joke, a big one being that he’s gone from super-villain to something of a saviour for those whose motto has been anyone-but Edmonton (and Toronto and Montreal) this Stanley Cup playoffs.

So….no need to get in the shower to scrub off the shame. Go Panthers. And all hail the man you once couldn’t stand.

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