Vancouver’s Missed Shot: How Evander Kane Nearly Became a Canuck and Why It Still Matters to Both Franchises Today
Evander Kane was highly sought after by Vancouver Canucks ownership. That fact alone tells a fascinating story—one filled with ambition, risk, and the deep connection between a franchise and a player who, for much of his early life, seemed destined to wear their jersey. Kane’s name had long been associated with the Vancouver hockey scene. Born and raised in the city, developed through the local junior system with the Vancouver Giants, and always surrounded by whispers of a potential homecoming, it felt inevitable that one day he’d wear the blue and green of his hometown team. Yet, it never happened. And the reasons why say a lot about the evolution of the Canucks, Kane himself, and how complicated the marriage between talent and timing can be in professional sports.
The interest from Vancouver ownership was not a casual one. Kane wasn’t just a good player—he was, at various points in his career, among the best power forwards in the NHL. His combination of size, speed, hands, and physicality made him a rare commodity. He could score 30 goals, rile up opponents, and shift momentum in an instant. He brought edge and swagger, the kind of attributes that teams often lack in playoff wars. And for a franchise like Vancouver, often labeled as finesse-heavy or lacking bite, Kane’s persona fit the mold of the player they’d never quite had but always wanted.
When Kane became available—especially during the stretch of his controversial exit from San Jose—there was genuine buzz that Vancouver might be the team to bring him home. The Canucks needed scoring depth. They needed grit. And ownership, particularly Francesco Aquilini, was rumored to be strongly in favor of exploring a deal. For Aquilini, Kane wasn’t just a player—he was a brand. A local success story with star power. Bringing him to Vancouver would have been a headline-making move that signaled aggression and boldness. It also would have been a rare moment of hometown reunion in a league where players often spend their careers far from where they started.
But hockey decisions aren’t made in a vacuum, and Kane’s path to this point had been anything but smooth. His time in Winnipeg, Buffalo, and San Jose had been marked by controversy—some of it self-inflicted, some of it exaggerated by media narratives. There were locker room issues, legal troubles, and questions about his maturity and leadership. By the time he parted ways with the Sharks, he was a polarizing figure: undeniably talented, but viewed by many front offices as a potential culture risk.
That’s where the divide emerged within the Canucks organization. While ownership appeared ready to make a move, management was more cautious. Then-general manager Jim Benning and others within the hockey operations department were reportedly hesitant to bring in a player with Kane’s baggage, especially considering the already fragile dynamics within the team. Vancouver was undergoing a transitional period. Young players like Elias Pettersson, Quinn Hughes, and Brock Boeser were still developing. The leadership core was still in flux. Adding Kane to that mix could have been volatile—either invigorating or disruptive, with little in between.
And so, a deal never materialized. Kane went unsigned for a short time before being scooped up by the Edmonton Oilers, a decision that turned out to be one of the smartest and most impactful moves the franchise had made in recent memory. In Edmonton, Kane found not only a second chance but a system that allowed him to thrive. He clicked immediately with Connor McDavid and Leon Draisaitl, provided the team with the physical edge they had long lacked, and delivered in the playoffs with crucial goals, fights, and timely plays. The Oilers took a gamble, and it paid off.
For Vancouver, it was a what-if that continues to linger. The Canucks have struggled to find a true power forward with Kane’s skillset in the years since. They’ve built a talented roster with offensive flair and strong puck-moving defensemen, but the bite, the sandpaper, the fearless net-front presence that Kane brings still feels like a missing ingredient. The team has chased that kind of player through trades and free agency, but none have offered the same blend of star quality and intimidation factor.
Beyond the on-ice impact, there’s also the cultural angle. Kane was a Vancouver native, a Black player from Western Canada who had made it big in the NHL. His presence on the Canucks would have resonated deeply within the community—especially for underrepresented groups in hockey who rarely see local stars return to inspire the next generation. His connection to the city, its fans, and its minor hockey roots was genuine. The move would have made headlines, yes, but it also could have served as a powerful community symbol.
Of course, this is hockey—and sentimentality only goes so far. There’s no guarantee that Kane would have thrived in Vancouver the way he has in Edmonton. Different systems, coaching styles, and dressing room cultures can alter a player’s arc dramatically. In Edmonton, Kane walked into a winning locker room, led by elite talents with a clear identity. Vancouver, during the same period, was still trying to find its footing. The pressure of performing in one’s hometown is real, and Kane’s mercurial past suggested that comfort didn’t always equal productivity.
Still, that didn’t stop the interest. Ownership’s desire to bring him in highlights an important truth about the Canucks: they’ve often been willing to take bold swings, sometimes clashing with their own hockey operations in the process. The Kane situation was one of the clearest examples of that internal tension. A franchise divided on risk tolerance. A player who divided opinion league-wide. And a city caught in the middle, wondering whether the reunion would ever happen.
It never did. Kane has gone on to have success in Edmonton, both statistically and reputationally. He’s turned doubters into believers, contributed to deep playoff runs, and proven that—when focused and healthy—he’s still one of the most dangerous wingers in the game. He’s also shown more maturity in his media interactions, his leadership on the ice, and his commitment to the team’s greater goal.
Could that version of Kane have worked in Vancouver? It’s a fair question. He may have thrived under the bright lights of Rogers Arena, fed off the energy of playing at home, and become a fan favorite. Or, he may have struggled under the weight of expectation, the distractions of hometown life, and the scrutiny of Vancouver’s demanding media landscape. We’ll never know for sure.
What we do know is this: the Canucks missed their chance. Whether that was the right call or a cautious misstep is up for debate, but history shows that Kane had more left in the tank than many assumed. His resurgence in Edmonton proved that talent, when harnessed correctly, rarely disappears. And for the Oilers, it’s been a windfall.
For Vancouver, the Kane saga is a reminder of what could have been. A missed shot at bringing a local hero home. A divide between business ambition and hockey caution. And ultimately, a lesson in how timing, personality, and circumstance must align perfectly to turn a headline-making move into a successful one.
Evander Kane will always be tied to Vancouver in some way. The city shaped him, and for years, it seemed to be his inevitable NHL destination. But fate—and front office caution—steered him elsewhere. For now, he’s wearing Oilers colors, chasing a Cup, and proving that second chances matter. And for Vancouver, the dream of Kane in Canucks colors will remain just that—a dream.
