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Scott Sandelin hasn’t changed. He’s still the coach who turned Minnesota Duluth men's hockey into a snarling, blue-collar machine that made Denver, North Dakota and every other NCHC team flinch. The system is still sound. The formula is still proven. The difference? The players. Too many of them are passengers who don’t back it up when the games get ugly.
Remember what this looked like not long ago: in 2016-17, UMD was 28-7-7, tied for the top spot in the league and stalking another Frozen Four. The following two seasons? National champions — not once, but twice, back-to-back in 2018 and 2019. In 2019-20, at 22-10-2, they were likely heading to another deep run if COVID hadn’t shut everything down. Five Frozen Fours in a decade. That was not a fluke — it was championship hockey.
Now look at the collapse. A 15-16-4 season in ’21-22. Then 16-20-1 in ’22-23. Then 12-20-5 in ’23-24. Then 13-20-3 last year. No winning records. No home-ice advantage in any NCHC playoffs. Seventh-place finishes. First-round playoff exits. A culture once owned March faded into a team that can’t even own November.
Meanwhile, home ice has turned into a distant memory. Amsoil Arena was a steel trap — loud, proud, a place teams feared to visit. Now? Duluth hasn’t hosted the first round of the NCHC playoffs in years. They keep packing buses, while Denver and North Dakota lock down home sites and cruise deep into March.
Just for context: in the 2024-25 NCHC Tournament, UMD drew the No. 7 seed — no home ice — and got swept by Arizona State, again. The one NCHC team to win the tourney this year? Western Michigan. Duluth’s seat isn’t just cold — it’s gone.
Meanwhile, the rest of the league isn’t stuck in nostalgia. Denver won the 2024 National Championship; North Dakota claimed a regular-season title in 2023-24. Sandelin’s system still works — if you’ve got athletes willing to sacrifice for it.
The problem isn’t the coach. It’s the roster. These players — many of whom look like they’re auditioning for “cute and shifty player of the year” — are passengers. When the going gets tough, they’re quiet. They don’t answer the bell. That’s why Western Michigan skated circles around them, why Denver flattened them flat, why North Dakota mocked them — not once, but twice. The only wins that looked comfortable were over Miami — and that’s shinny outdoors at Piedmont on a Sunday afternoon, not a badge of toughness.
Fans are getting fed up. They remember Faulk, Perunovich, Shepard, the parades, the banners. They don’t buy the hype anymore. And it’s not just the scoreboard — it’s the attitude. Amsoil will still be full, the band still plays “Hey Baby,” the young bloods in Section 106 still fling Bud Lights like confetti. The experience is still solid. But the product? It’s limp.
This season’s first half is going to be brutal. Denver. North Dakota. St. Cloud. Bats are already swinging. By Christmas, the record will be ugly, ugly, ugly. Maybe the second half won’t be a complete train wreck — Sandelin’s teams usually claw back some dignity — but the ceiling is home ice in the playoffs. Once that was a birthright. Now it’s a stretch goal.
Players, here’s your chance: look in the mirror. Ask yourself if you’re willing to lay bones on the line like the championship Bulldogs — block shots till your legs give out, win puck battles, wear a bruise as a badge. That’s the equation Sandelin still runs. But if you’re not buying in? Get off the bus. Go to Arizona State, go to Miami or Division III — whatever — where being a passenger is apparently fine.
Because here’s a bottom-line truth fans remember: passengers ride. Bulldogs drive. And right now, this train’s stalled. The team, the fans, the entire program everyone deserves better. Time to stop watching VHS tapes of 2019. Time to earn the sweater again.
Hope I’m wrong. But I’m not.
