In one sense, the story has stayed the same.
The Dallas Stars have changed their coach and, by extension, their identity. Their best defenseman of the past decade, John Klingberg, now works in Southern California. A pair of 23-year-olds, Jake Oettinger and Jason Robertson, made the leap to stardom as Dallas’ most important one, Miro Heiskanen, remains shrouded in some measure of mystery. We still don’t know whether Tyler Seguin will stay healthy, if Jamie Benn will someday move off the wing full-time, if Esa Lindell can ever be more than what he’s always been, if anyone beyond Roope Hintz can produce consistent excellence at center.
All of which is why I still have no idea what the hell to think about these Dallas Stars.
You may remember that this is where I was at last year, too. Behold, an excerpt from the 2021-2022 season-opening essay:
You can craft a narrative around either one — the fading giant or the hopeful upstart, a team that already blew its shot or one yet to encounter it. What makes the 2021-22 Stars the most fascinating team in Dallas is that there’s legitimate reason to believe either story. You see what you want to with this group.
It would be easy, then, to declare that mosaic unaltered even with many pieces being shuffled around: that we didn’t know then, and we don’t know now, and so our understanding of the team remains opaque.
It would also be reductive. Because a year ago at this time, I should have known better. Not where the trail led, per se, but that no matter how it wound—whatever line-change switchbacks or goaltending forks occurred along the way—it would end in the same place where Dallas Stars hockey so often has: bland mediocrity.
It turned out that this team was not so easily broken into dichotomies. The Stars were not young or old, ascending or descending, ahead of schedule or running behind. Rick Bowness’ bank vault-safe style of coaching combined with Jim Nill’s high-wire roster construction—attempting to straddle all timelines while committing to none—ensured the Stars were each of those, which in function meant they weren’t really any of them. Over and over those opposing identities collided, hammering away at one another for seven months until, come playoff time, what remained was smooth and characterless. The Stars were too good to miss the postseason but too limited to make real noise once they arrived. Not even with a historic Jake Oettinger performance. The final accounting—an entertaining-yet-meek first-round exit—felt exactly right.
But the 2022-23 team? This is unknowable, the sort of black box that only comes out of some genuine shift in circumstances. Pete DeBoer’s philosophy comes with very different trappings than that of Bowness. These Stars will think and play in ways we, and they, are not accustomed. With that comes the inevitable battery of questions concerning how that will go, how it will look, and which growing pains will come with that uncharted territory.
They are building differently, too. As Sean Shapiro told us in his StrongSide debut last week, Nill’s patience has culminated in a roster that will lean on young talent to caulk gaps in lieu of veteran stopgaps. Teenage sensation Wyatt Johnston is on the opening-night roster. So is Ty Dellandrea, who has more than served his time in the minors. Either or both of Thomas Harley (once the team’s most exciting prospect) and Mavrik Bourque (one of the players who usurped him) could be up this year to join them.
And so this new era carries new possibilities, not only for where this could lead but the ways we process those outcomes. Games no longer will begin with the begrudging understanding that each result will be determined by how an opponent reacts to Bowness’ narrow band of hockey. They will not end with nearly so much certainty about what the bottom of the roster provides because it’s clogged only by veterans who realized their potential long ago.
Which, consequently, makes it a damn bit harder to guess where the 2022-23 Stars’ season is heading.
I do not believe the ceiling is meaningfully altered, at least not yet. It is hard to fancy them a Cup contender considering their prospect crown jewels are only beginning their matriculation. We’ve also yet to see proof that DeBoer’s system has rejuvenated some of the veterans—Benn, Seguin, Lindell, or whoever else—the way it theoretically could.
But the range of possibilities has finally widened far enough for surprises to be on the table. So if Nils Lundkvist explodes like a supernova with regular ice time or if a less shackled Miro Heiskanen blooms into the NHL’s best defenseman or if Jason Robertson rips 50 goals or if Hintz wins the Selke—well, don’t be shocked, is all I’m saying. There are no certainties here. For real, this time.
What a difference a year makes. Even if you must peer beneath the surface to realize that.
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