Everyone experiences being a fan in a different way. This is true for any fandom, whether it’s a sports team, a TV show, or someone’s favourite punk band. On Thursday, I got to experience every possible level of being an Edmonton Oilers fan. Thursday was fan meet and greet day for the Edmonton Oilers. I decided that this was the year I would go to West Edmonton Mall and wait in line for over 12 hours.

The night before, I wrestled with the decision: which Oiler would I wait in line for? I could get my Nugent-Hopkins jersey signed. Or maybe I should tell Stuart Skinner I believe in him. As I weighed the pros and cons of each player, I finally made up my mind. I had to meet Connor McDavid. The downside was that he would only sign the picture of himself provided at the table. No jerseys, cards, hats, or sticks. Which, to many fans, is disappointing. But at the same time, we can all understand why. You cannot have hundreds of people turning 300-dollar jerseys into 2000-dollar jerseys at every Autograph Day.

I arrived at McDavid’s line around 7:30 in the morning, which I thought was pretty early considering he wasn’t going to start signing until 6:00 PM. To my surprise, there were already about a hundred people in line. People had lawn chairs and sleeping bags. I walked past two guys who had brought a whole TV and gaming system. As I made my way to the back, I realized I might be underprepared. I had only brought a pair of headphones. I sat next to a man waiting with his partner. We exchanged pleasantries and introduced ourselves, as is tradition when you are about to spend the next 10 hours together. A few minutes later, a dad and his young son set up their chairs beside me.

This father and son honestly became the highlight of my long wait for McDavid. At first, no one moved or talked. It was very boring, as you would expect waiting in a line to be. I put my headphones in, sat on the ground, and listened to The Sauce on Oilersnation YouTube to pass the time. At 11:00 AM, what I assume was a West Edmonton Mall employee approached and made an announcement saying the first 300 people would receive wristbands guaranteeing a McDavid signature and allowing them to leave the line for food or bathroom breaks. This is when the fun truly began.

Suddenly, kids started running around playing tag. Adults came by to talk about the Oilers. I had countless conversations with random fans about coaching, goaltending, last year’s Finals, and anything hockey-related. One man desperately wanted me to agree that Stuart Skinner belonged in Russia. I thought to myself that this must be how Tyler and Liam feel every time they go out in public. Northsider Norm even stopped to chat. He was waiting in the Draisaitl line. Some kids recognized him and asked for photos, and he handed out little stickers of himself.

Around noon, I put my headphones back in and listened to Oilersnation Everyday. I got to experience yet another level of fandom when people in the chat made fun of me for waiting in line. Although it was uncomfortable at times, I had no regrets. At that point, I was honestly having fun. I love talking about the Oilers. I like seeing kids and families having fun. I listen to people talk sports all day at work anyway.

The little boy next to me finally started warming up to me, or maybe he was just extremely bored. He told me McDavid was his favourite player and how he went to a hockey game last year. The more he talked about McDavid and the Oilers, the more I realized how important days like this are to a seven-year-old fan. Today meant the world to him. For me, I was just a grown man with time to kill who thought a McDavid signature would be cool. But to that kid, this was Christmas. This was the Super Bowl. He made me feel very old when he saw a Taylor Hall jersey and asked who that player was. But he listened with real interest as his dad and I explained the H.O.P.E. era to him.

He asked me a question I had never actually thought about. What was I going to ask McDavid to write on my picture? He wanted his own to say “To my biggest fan,” which I honestly considered stealing. I told him I just wanted to say “thank you” to McDavid. He did not care about discussing cultural significance or what McDavid means to this city, although his dad and I did. His dad thought it was a great idea to simply tell McDavid “thank you.”

Our conversation ended when Santa arrived, handing out mini sticks and candy canes. Now, 50 to 100 kids had mini sticks and were bored. Suddenly, balls appeared, and hockey games broke out. My little friend was gone, making new age-appropriate friends. Then, some kid showed up in full street hockey goalie gear. I started choosing sides and cheering for goals. I became fully invested in a children’s mini stick game. Every so often, a security guard broke it up, the kids shuffled back to their spots, and once the guard left, it was game on again. This happened six or seven times. News crews arrived, and that sent the kids into chaos. They all wanted to be on TV. One outlet interviewed every kid who asked. Some froze, others rambled about their favourite players. It was pure joy watching them. Even my line buddy FaceTimed his mom to tell her he was on TV.

Finally, it was my turn to meet my hero. A staff member holding a whiteboard asked if I wanted my picture personalized. I said yes and gave her my name. She asked if I wanted him to write anything specific. I asked if he could write “To my best friend Lance, CUP YEAR, Connor McDavid.” She looked up and said, “No. That’s too long.” So I settled on “CUP YEAR.” She wrote it down and escorted me to the man himself.

He greeted me and said, “Cool jacket.” I was wearing a big studded jacket full of Oilers patches that I made myself. I thanked him and turned to show him the back, saying, “I left a spot here for when we win another Cup.” He genuinely sounded impressed. He looked at the whiteboard, chuckled, and said, “CUP YEAR” as he wrote it. To fill the silence, I told him I appreciated everything he does for this city. He nodded and handed me the signed picture.

I knew this was my last moment. I looked Connor McDavid in the eyes and said, “I love you.” Part of it was a joke because my friends had spent all day trying to convince me to say it. But joking aside, I meant it. I watched McDavid grow up in this city. I saw him cry when we lost the Cup in 2024. I saw him in pain when his knee smashed into the post. My entire Oilers fandom washed over me in that moment. McDavid did not react at all. He acted like this was something he heard constantly. I took the card, and that was it.

As I reflected on the day, what stood out most was something my little friend said: “Dad, this is the best day of my life. I got to skip school. I got McDonald’s. I got a balloon sword. I played hockey. I was on the news. And I haven’t even met McDavid yet.”

There it was. Surrounded by a 10-hour wait, adults are debating trades, complaining about goaltending, getting frustrated about the team, and sitting in discomfort. A seven-year-old boy put everything into perspective.

Yes, I worry about cap space and contracts and wins and losses. Yes, I want the Oilers to win a Stanley Cup more than anything. Anyone who knows me knows that is true. But I care about the stats and the cap because deep down, I still have that seven-year-old in me who once thought the best day of his life was when Anson Carter fist bumped him. I remember my dad taking me to see Tommy Salo. I did not care if they won. I was just happy to be there with him, eating pizza, sitting at the top of the bowl.

If you are reading this, wondering whether it is worth it to go to an Oilers meet and greet, I can truly say that it is worth it. It is not about the signature or even meeting the players. It is about getting back to what makes sports fun. It is about meeting people, making memories with friends and family, and being surrounded by people who love the same thing you do. It is a day to forget the standings and the salary cap and remind yourself why you love hockey and the Oilers so much.

Why do they make you mad? Because you care. Because somewhere inside of you is still that seven-year-old kid who thinks the best day of his life is skipping school, playing hockey, and meeting Ryan Smyth. Or, now, skipping work and meeting McDavid.

Cups are never guaranteed. But fun and good memories always are. And of course, it is still a CUP YEAR.