Let’s get one thing straight: it’s not that we don’t think Vegas Golden Knights fans exist. We’ve seen you, bedazzled in gold sequins, sipping $18 beers in the T-Mobile Arena, cheering like you’ve been bleeding hockey since the Original Six era. We know you’re there. The problem isn’t your existence—it’s your success. Specifically, the fact that you’ve never had to eat the cold, soggy leftovers of a playoff drought like the rest of us miserable NHL saps. You waltzed into the league in 2017, tripped over a Stanley Cup Final appearance in your first season, and then hoisted the damn thing in 2023 like it was a Yelp review prize for “Best New Sports City.” Meanwhile, the rest of us have been choking on decades of despair, and we’re not ready to pass you the “True Fan” card just yet.
The Real Reason We Hate Vegas: You Haven’t Suffered Enough
Look, it’s not personal—at least, not entirely. We don’t hate the Golden Knights players (okay, maybe Mark Stone’s playoff disappearing act grates a little). We don’t even hate the coaches—Bruce Cassidy’s a beaut, and Pete DeBoer was at least a mercenary we could respect. No, our beef is with you, Las Vegas. The city. The fans. You don’t deserve a Cup—not because you’re not passionate, but because you haven’t earned it through the sacred NHL ritual of having your soul crushed like a stale Timbits donut.
Let’s break it down. The Golden Knights have been in the NHL for seven seasons as of February 28, 2025. In that time, they’ve made the playoffs six times, reached the Conference Finals three times, and won a Stanley Cup. That’s not a hockey team; that’s a cheat code. Compare that to, say, the Buffalo Sabres, who haven’t sniffed the playoffs since 2011 and are currently working on a 14-year streak of “maybe next year.” Or the Toronto Maple Leafs, whose fans have been emotionally waterboarded since 1967, watching first-round exits like it’s a national holiday. Even the Edmonton Oilers, with Connor McDavid—literally the best player alive—went a decade without playoffs before finally breaking through. You, Vegas? You’ve had nothing but a cotton candy parade, a glitter-dusted joyride where the worst thing you’ve endured is a mild hangover from too many pregame Cirque du Soleil shots.
True Fans Know Pain—You Know Penn & Teller
Being a “real” NHL fan isn’t about how loud you cheer or how many Elvis impersonators you cram into a watch party. It’s about pain. It’s about seasons so unwatchable you start rooting for the zamboni driver to crash just for entertainment. It’s about drafting a generational talent only to watch them demand a trade (looking at you, Winnipeg). It’s about betting your emotional mortgage on a Game 7, only to see your team lose because the fourth-line grinder took a delay-of-game penalty flipping the puck over the glass. That’s hockey. You don’t get to skip the line just because your city has slot machines and a dancing fountain.
Vegas fans, bless your hearts, you don’t know this pain. Your franchise arrived gift-wrapped with an expansion draft so generous it was like the NHL handed you a roster on a silver platter—meanwhile, the Seattle Kraken got stuck with the leftovers of a yard sale. Year one, you’re in the Stanley Cup Final. Year six, you’re champs. Where’s the struggle? Where’s the character-building 10-game losing streak in February that makes you question your life choices? You’ve never had to watch a power play so bad it feels like performance art. You’ve never had your heart ripped out by a team too broke to sign a decent goalie. You’re basically the kid who shows up to the dodgeball game with a store-bought trophy and expects us to clap.
Las Vegas Doesn’t Deserve It (Yet)
Here’s the kicker: it’s not that we think Vegas can’t be a hockey town. You’ve got the enthusiasm, the turnout (over 100% capacity most nights—math’s hard when you’re winning), and the glitzy pregame shows that make us jealous of your production budget. But a Stanley Cup isn’t just a prize; it’s a reward for endurance. The city of Las Vegas hasn’t paid its dues. You don’t get to roll into the NHL, hit the jackpot, and call it a day. Hockey gods don’t work that way—they demand sacrifice, preferably in the form of a decade of basement finishes and a coach who looks like he’s auditioning for Grumpy Cat: The Movie.
Take Pittsburgh, for instance. They earned their Cups the hard way—years of mediocrity in the ‘70s and ‘80s, a bankruptcy scare, and a arena so old it smelled like cigarette ash before Sidney Crosby and Evgeni Malkin turned it around. Chicago? They went 49 years without a Cup before 2010, suffering through the Bill Wirtz era like it was a prison sentence. Even Tampa Bay, your fellow Sun Belt success story, had to slog through years of irrelevance and a mascot named “ThunderBug” before building a dynasty. Vegas? You’ve had seven years of sunshine and roses. Check back when you’ve got a decade of “fire the GM” chants under your belt.
Earn Our Respect: Survive the Fall
Here’s the good news, Vegas fans: there’s hope for you yet. Every team falls off eventually. The Golden Knights won’t be immune forever—salary caps tighten, stars age, and luck runs dry. When that day comes, when you’re staring down a lottery pick instead of a playoff run, we’ll be watching. If you’re still there, tailgating in the desert heat, wearing your faded Stone jersey, cursing a blown 3-1 lead—that’s when you’ll earn our respect. Not because you stuck around for the wins, but because you survived the losses.
Until then, enjoy your cotton candy parade. Just don’t expect us to clap for it. We’ve got our own unwatchable seasons to cry over.
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