The lights at the Bell Centre had barely settled when Cole Caufield’s stick cracked the air like a starter’s pistol. The puck curved, lifted, and split the night with a sound that Montreal fans had come to crave — that clean, ringing note of inevitability. Five goals in five games. A late equalizer in regulation. The overtime winner. The Canadiens’ faithful rose in a single, breathless wave. And in that moment, the name “Goal Caufield” didn’t feel like a nickname anymore. It felt like prophecy.

But the conversation in Montreal now isn’t about nicknames. It’s about what comes next. Forty goals? Fifty? A season that could redraw the limits of what the young sharpshooter can do? For Cameron Gace, the former forward turned analyst who’s watched this team claw its way out of the league’s basement, it’s not just a dream. “Forty is more than realistic,” he said, the conviction crisp as the autumn air outside the arena. “I even think fifty is in the realm of possibility.”

Caufield, now playing with a calm menace rare for his age, looks less like a flash-in-the-pan scorer and more like the beating heart of something larger — the Canadiens’ rebirth. Last season, he tallied a career-high 37 goals, including an astonishing 21 on the power play. But as Gace pointed out, this year’s path to 50 will be different, maybe even harder.

“With Demidov joining that second unit and Dobson running it, the ice time’s going to spread out,” Gace explained. “That’s good for the team — balance is what wins — but it might mean fewer of those automatic looks for Cole on the man advantage.”

If the power play tapers, Gace doesn’t see that as a problem. “It’s actually a good thing,” he added. “Because it means the other unit’s doing its job. And with the way they’re playing five-on-five, Caufield’s production could go through the roof.”

The Canadiens, once a team defined by caution, are now embracing risk — speed, creativity, and attack-first hockey. That shift began subtly last season, but with the emergence of young defensemen like Lane Hutson and the addition of puck-movers such as Dobson, it’s taken full shape. The system now looks less like survival and more like expression.

“Five-on-five is where we’re going to see the real Cole,” Gace said. “They’re playing an offensive brand that gives him the space to breathe. He doesn’t have to chase the game anymore — the game’s coming to him.”

Caufield’s teammates seem to sense it too. The Canadiens have started the season not with the desperation of a team trying to prove itself, but with the quiet confidence of one that already knows it belongs. This is not last year’s miracle playoff sneak-in. This is a continuation — a belief that what was built brick by brick can now stand on its own.

“There’s something different about them,” said Gace. “They didn’t just wake up one morning as contenders. They built toward this — slow, deliberate, one season at a time. Last year they crept into the playoffs. This year, they’re walking in like they own the place.”

It’s the kind of cultural evolution that doesn’t make highlight reels but defines franchises. Montreal, with all its ghosts and legends, has never lacked passion. What it lacked, after years of turmoil and turnover, was patience. And now that patience seems to be paying off.

“The key,” Gace said, “is small steps. Everyone improving just a little — one percent better across the board. That’s the difference between fighting for a spot and dictating your fate.”

It’s a philosophy that resonates in the locker room, especially under the calm, calculated eye of head coach Martin St. Louis. A former undersized phenom himself, St. Louis has become a kind of mirror for his players — proof that skill and heart can trump size and skepticism. His coaching doesn’t just command; it liberates.

“It’s the best feeling in hockey,” Gace said with a smile. “Knowing your coach not only has your back but knows how to get the best out of you. That’s one less thing to think about. Hockey’s played between the ears as much as it’s played on the ice. When you stop second-guessing, you start creating.”

Under St. Louis, the Canadiens have found that freedom — the kind that turns good players into great ones. Caufield can hunt goals without hesitation. Nick Suzuki can control the game’s rhythm, the steady heartbeat at center. Kaden Guhle can play his 200-foot game, confident that one mistake won’t send him to the bench. Lane Hutson can do what few young defensemen dare — make art with the puck.

“They know their roles,” Gace said. “They know they’re allowed to be great at what they do. And that’s when the real magic happens.”

That magic has turned the Bell Centre into a furnace again. Once a cathedral haunted by expectation, it’s alive with a different kind of energy — belief. Every goal feels like a reward not just for the players but for a city that endured the slow rebuild.

Saturday night, the New York Rangers come to town — another test, another measuring stick. But for this Montreal team, it’s not about who’s coming in; it’s about what’s growing from within.

Caufield will take the ice, the crowd rising as he touches the puck. Suzuki will hover beside him, steady as a metronome. St. Louis will watch from behind the bench, arms folded, the faintest smile forming when the play develops just as he envisioned.

This is how rebirth looks in hockey — not fireworks and declarations, but subtle confidence layered over time.

Maybe Cole Caufield will score 50. Maybe he won’t. But the truth is, that number isn’t the story anymore. The story is that, for the first time in years, the Canadiens have an identity again — fast, fearless, and free.

And every time Caufield’s stick slices through the cold Montreal air, you can feel it — that echo of something new, something building, something that might just last.