The air in Rogers Place felt heavy that night — the kind of silence that clings to the rafters long after the horn has sounded. The Oilers had just been carved open on yet another defensive lapse, and somewhere on the bench, Evan Bouchard’s expression froze between disbelief and frustration. His skates pointed down the tunnel, his eyes fixed on the ice, but everyone in the building knew he wanted to disappear.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

At 25, Bouchard was supposed to be Edmonton’s answer to the modern offensive defenseman — the quarterback of their power play, the smooth-skating bridge between Connor McDavid’s brilliance and the blue line’s stability. When the Oilers handed him a $10.5 million extension, they weren’t just investing in his numbers; they were betting on his poise. But four games into the new season, the numbers told a different story: zero points, costly turnovers, and a defense that looked lost every time he pinched too high or misread the rush.

Cameron Gaunce, a former NHL defenseman turned analyst, didn’t mince words on the broadcast. “It’s becoming a problem,” he said. “He’s shown he can raise his level in the playoffs, but it takes 82 games to get there. And when you’re supposed to be the anchor of the blue line, that’s a tough pill for the team to swallow.”

Gaunce’s tone wasn’t cruel, just weary — the kind of truth that comes from someone who’s seen how quickly the NHL can turn on its brightest prospects.

Because the truth was this: in Edmonton, patience has always been a fragile commodity.

For years, Oilers fans had watched the franchise teeter between promise and heartbreak — from McDavid’s otherworldly performances to yet another spring that ended too soon. When the team reached the Stanley Cup Final two years in a row, it felt like the dynasty was forming. But underneath that success, small cracks were forming. Cracks that widened every time Bouchard misplayed a puck at the blue line or failed to close the gap in front of his net.

Now, those cracks were becoming fault lines.

“Everyone’s on edge,” Gaunce continued. “You already have questions about goaltending, and if the play in front of them is shaky, it wears on everyone. They start wondering, ‘Which Bouchard are we getting tonight?’”

That question has haunted the Oilers’ locker room since training camp.

Bouchard’s gift has always been his touch — a calm, almost serene control of the puck that could make time slow down. He sees passing lanes before they exist. His slapshot, quick and precise, is the reason Edmonton’s power play has been the league’s most feared. But defense, the gritty, thankless part of his position, has always been his shadow.

You can trace it back to junior hockey, when scouts called him “a dream with the puck and a question mark without it.” The dream stayed; the question mark never left.

Now, with a $10.5 million tag stitched to his name, those questions echo louder than ever.

The Cost of a Genius

When Bouchard signed his deal, Edmonton knew what it was buying: an offensive engine. The idea was that his production would outweigh his lapses. But hockey isn’t an equation — it’s a balance, and lately, that balance has tilted.

The Oilers have tried pairing him with steady partners — veterans like Mattias Ekholm, who’ve had to play both bodyguard and babysitter. It worked, for a time. Ekholm’s presence let Bouchard roam, to create. But Gaunce pointed out the trade-off: “Now you’re using one of your best defensemen just to insulate him. That means someone else isn’t getting Ekholm’s help. It’s a chain reaction.”

And now, with a new-look defensive corps, that chain is under strain.

John Klingberg’s departure left another hole. Darnell Nurse, still the team’s emotional backbone, can’t cover every mistake. Winger Leon Draisaitl, in a moment of frustration earlier this month, muttered on camera about “keeping things simple back there.” He didn’t name names. He didn’t have to.

Then came the worst possible timing: Canada’s assistant GM Julien BriseBois in attendance.

Bouchard had been on the shortlist for the 2026 Olympic roster — a modern, offensive defenseman who could complement Cale Makar and Shea Theodore. But when the night unraveled, so might have that dream.

He mishandled a puck, it popped on edge, and Mathew Barzal stripped him clean for a breakaway goal. It wasn’t just a bad moment; it was symbolic — the kind of play that stays burned into the minds of scouts and executives.

Gaunce, speaking from experience, didn’t sugarcoat it. “That’s the kind of game that gets your name scratched off the list,” he said. “In Sharpie.”

The Olympic Shadow

For Hockey Canada, the calculus is cruel but simple: trust beats talent when gold is on the line.

Team Canada’s blue line is already overflowing with offensive brilliance — Makar, Theodore, Josh Morrissey, Drew Doughty, Aaron Ekblad. They don’t need another power-play artist. They need a stabilizer. Someone who won’t implode when the puck bounces the wrong way.

“Bouchard’s ceiling is elite,” Gaunce said. “But his floor? It’s too low. You can’t have that in the Olympics, where every mistake is magnified.”

He’s right. The Olympics reward reliability. And in that kind of pressure cooker, one turnover can define a career.

Bouchard’s challenge, then, isn’t about talent — it’s about trust. Can he be the player who holds the line instead of testing it?

Because in the NHL, you can recover from a bad night. In the Olympics, there are no second chances.

The Silence Between Games

In the days that followed, Bouchard stayed mostly quiet. He showed up to practice early, worked with assistant coaches on zone exits, spent extra time running drills on defensive reads. But silence can speak louder than any postgame quote.

Those who know him say he takes mistakes personally. That his calm exterior hides a mind that never stops replaying the same sequence — the same turnover — frame by frame.

And maybe that’s what makes his situation so complex. Because Bouchard isn’t lazy, or careless, or arrogant. He’s thoughtful — sometimes to a fault. The kind of player who feels the weight of every misstep because he knows how thin the line is between genius and disaster.

Ekholm, ever the mentor, defended him after practice. “He’s learning,” he said. “He’s one of the smartest players I’ve seen with the puck. But the NHL doesn’t give you much time to learn. He’ll figure it out.”

The words were kind, but even they carried a trace of urgency.

The Oilers don’t have the luxury of patience. Not when McDavid’s prime years tick by like seconds on a clock. Not when a fanbase that’s tasted near-glory now demands a finish.

And not when the man they trusted to stabilize the blue line keeps skating on thin ice.

What Comes Next

Maybe this is the crossroads — the moment every talented player faces when raw skill meets reality. Bouchard has the tools to be great. The question is whether he can become dependable.

Because somewhere between his crisp outlet passes and defensive breakdowns lies the version of Bouchard the Oilers — and Team Canada — need. The version who can turn chaos into composure.

Hockey, after all, has a short memory for mistakes and a long one for redemption.

The next game will come, the next shift will start, and once again the puck will find its way to his stick. The crowd will hold its breath.

And maybe this time, Evan Bouchard won’t be thinking about the noise behind him, or the whispers about Team Canada, or the cameras that caught his worst night.

Maybe this time, he’ll just play.