When the Oilers made it to the Stanley Cup Final, I joked to my wife, “Well, they probably did that because I arrived in Edmonton.” We laughed, of course. But how can you deny the impact when even your housemates, your friends, the mall, and yes—even church—are buzzing about every game?
I’m not into sports. I mean that sincerely. I didn’t grow up watching the NHL or wearing jerseys. I didn’t even know what “icing” or “penalty kill” meant. (Still don’t, if we’re being honest.) But I found myself caring. Worrying. Getting stressed whenever the opposing team scored—even if I had no idea how or why.
That’s the magic of this city right now.
The Home Vibe and the City Pulse
During Game 5, I was just at home. My housemates were watching. They got sad when the Oilers trailed. It felt like we were all holding our breath, even if we weren’t watching every play.
And outside our home? The city was breathing hockey.
Whether they played in Edmonton or not, people wore their blue-and-orange proudly. Every game, I’d see someone in an Oilers hoodie or cap, from the grocery store to the bus stop. I still remember the night they won the Western Conference—my wife and I were in downtown Edmonton, and the noise was unforgettable. People yelling, cheering, celebrating strangers. It felt like joy had spilled into the streets.
I was even near Rogers Place once during the playoffs. I wasn’t inside, but somehow, I still felt part of it.
The Feeling of Belonging
I’ve watched parts of a few hockey games at the West Edmonton Mall, but mostly, it’s the internet that keeps me informed about hockey. Or maybe it’s the people—talking about the games, reacting to each play, even praying for the Oilers during the games. (Yes, that happened.)
An elderly couple we met at church once told me I had to learn how to skate. I wasn’t sure if that included learning hockey, but I got what they meant. “You live here now,” they seemed to say. “Be part of it.”
And so I try. I try to learn. Not just the rules or the chants, but the spirit of it all. The part where you root for your home team not because you fully understand the game—but because it feels right. Because it feels like home.
For Edmonton, With Love
At some point this week, I caught myself actually wanting the Oilers to win. Like, really win.
That surprised me. I’m usually indifferent to most sports. But something shifted. Maybe it started when I saw how excited our friend’s son was about hockey. Maybe it was when I saw more Filipinos here showing off their Oilers pride. I saw pride, joy, and pakikisama.
And I understood. It’s not really about hockey. It’s about belonging. About uniting for something in a time when so much keeps us apart. Even here in Alberta, where people come from so many places, backgrounds, and beliefs—it feels so good to finally agree on something.
Even if it’s just yelling “Go, Oilers, Go!”
The Quiet Weight Beneath It All
This joy couldn’t have come at a better time. I’ve been quietly struggling with the uncertainty of starting over. Job hunting. Financial anxiety. Culture shock. And that heavy question I keep asking myself: “What now?”
But in the middle of all that, something as simple as a city celebrating their team helped me breathe. Even if just for a moment. Even if I don’t know what a line change is.
My Favorite Answer
I’ve been stopped a few times on the bus recently. Strangers asking, “Did you watch the game?” My go-to reply?
“They did well last night!”
It’s safe, it’s neutral, and somehow it works. It makes people smile. It makes them nod like we’re on the same team—even if I still don’t know what “offside” means.
And maybe that’s what makes this week so special. You don’t have to know every rule to belong.
Edmonton, You’ve Got Me
I still don’t know hockey. But I know I’ll cheer again for Game 6.
Because I know what it feels like to root for something bigger than yourself. I know what it’s like to feel the pulse of a city and let it carry you for a while.
And now, I know the chant too:
Let’s go, Oilers!
(And Pink Pony Club, because La Bamba was sooo last year.)
