The NHL didn’t just re-sign with Rogers for 12 more years because they like Timmies commercials and 1080p replays. They did it because live sports still unites in a world of fragmented audiences and algorithm-choked content menus. It still sells. And it still matters in ways few things do anymore—especially in Canada, where hockey isn’t just a sport, it’s the heartbeat of national culture.
Sure, Amazon’s two-year run with “Monday Night Hockey” brought younger demos, slick tech, and a refreshed broadcast style. But Rogers just dropped $11 billion to remind everyone who the real heavyweight is. Why? Because if you want to own Canadian screens, you need to own Canadian ice.
Let’s break this down: Rogers didn’t just lock in a rights deal. They locked down the emotional backbone of Canadian media for the next dozen years. And here’s the kicker—they didn’t shut the door on streaming. They left it cracked, just wide enough for Amazon (or BCE, if they’re feeling bold) to slide in and carry a piece of the load.
Rogers Isn’t Just in the Game—They Own the Game
Broadcast rights? Check. Full control of Sportsnet? Check. Entire ownership of the Blue Jays? Yup. A soon-to-be 75% stake in the Maple Leafs? That too. Rogers is building the most vertically integrated sports machine in Canadian history. They’re not just showing you the game—they own the team, the arena, and the platform you’re watching on.
This isn’t a media company dabbling in sports. This is a telecom titan buying the scoreboard, the Zamboni, and the post-game interview. When Rogers says they’re “the home of hockey,” they mean it literally.
Live Sports: Still the Crown Jewel
This isn’t about nostalgia. It’s about math. Streaming platforms are burning piles of cash trying to find sticky, habitual content. Spoiler: there’s nothing stickier than a live playoff game. You can’t binge it. You can’t skip it. And you sure as hell can’t pirate it two minutes after puck drop.
For the NHL, this deal guarantees long-term exposure, consistent revenue, and—most importantly—platform flexibility. With sub-licensing baked in, the league can test-drive partners like Amazon without giving up the steering wheel. If Prime keeps attracting those precious 18-44s, expect Rogers to keep tossing them a night or two. Everyone wins—except cable bundles.
Local Wins, Always
Here’s the part the algorithms don’t get: hockey is hyper-local. Edmonton fans aren’t tuning in for a random Maple Leafs game. Vancouver doesn’t care about the Flames unless they’re playing them. That’s why Amazon’s traveling crew, city-by-city, was a smart bet. It treated each city as a character, not just a market.
But can we please have separate intermission crews for the Leafs, Sens, and Habs? I do not need to hear how Toronto went into a shootout with the Kings when I’m watching Sens vs. Rangers. Give every fanbase its due.
Because in Canadian hockey, one-size-fits-all never fits. Or as the great Red Green once said: Keep your stick on the ice. Know your audience, respect their team, and maybe don’t assume everyone wants Leafs talk 24/7.
The Profit Play No One Saw Coming (Except Rogers)
Back in 2013, people scoffed at Rogers’ original 12-year deal. “No way they make that money back,” the suits whispered into their BlackBerrys. Fast-forward: viewership up 50%, revenue rising, and Sportsnet planted firmly at the top of the Canadian sports media heap.
This new deal? It’s bigger, bolder, and built for a post-cable era. Rogers isn’t betting on old-school bundles. They’re betting on platform control, streaming dominance, and full-spectrum fan monetization. They want you in the arena, on the app, and watching their ads on every screen you own.
The Take: Why the NHL Did This Now
The NHL had leverage. U.S. rights are set through 2028, Canadian rights were up soon, and Amazon was already knocking with a nice résumé. They could’ve taken the deal to market. They didn’t. Why?
Because Rogers showed they’d pay—and play—the long game. The league gets stability in its most loyal market, a partner already investing in tech-forward production, and sub-license flexibility for new players. Oh, and let’s not forget: Rogers owns part of the Leafs and the infrastructure that broadcasts the damn games.
In media, everyone wants a predictable growth asset. The NHL just turned one into twelve years of cash, national reach, and streaming optionality.
Amazon may have lit the torch with Monday nights, but Rogers is still carrying the Olympic flame. And while this deal locks in the old guard, it doesn’t freeze out the future. Because in the battle for streaming supremacy, whoever wins sports wins your so-called “streaming wars.”
The NHL didn’t just sign a media rights deal—they locked in cultural dominance. Rogers keeps control of the puck, Amazon gets to play in the corners, and fans? They get the same game wrapped in slicker packages and fewer blackouts. For now, the home of hockey in Canada still has a corporate logo on the front, and it reads Rogers.
