Locking In Makar Solves Nothing If Colorado Still Can't Score When It Counts

The $163.2 million is signed, the record is official, and Cale Makar is now the highest-paid player in the history of professional hockey. Eight years, $20.4 million per season — numbers that would have seemed science fiction a decade ago. Colorado deserves to celebrate. And then, the moment the champagne is gone, this franchise needs to reckon with the fact that no defenseman's contract, however historic, fixes a finishing problem that nearly ended their season before it truly began.

Here is the declaration: the Makar extension is a necessary condition for Colorado contending, not a sufficient one. The Avalanche will win a Stanley Cup in this window — but only if the depth forwards who go silent in May learn to speak in June. The contract buys time and continuity. It does not manufacture clutch.

Look at what this team actually did last spring. Nathan MacKinnon put up 83 points across 48 games, one of the most dominant regular-season stretches a center has produced in the modern era. Martin Necas added 61. Makar himself contributed 55 points while logging over 24 minutes a night. By every measure, Colorado's top end was elite. And then the playoffs arrived, and the depth caved. Gabriel Landeskog — the captain, the emotional anchor of this roster — converted one goal on 25 shots over the final ten regular-season games. One. The finishing didn't get better when the lights got brighter; it got worse. A team can absorb a slump from one player. It cannot absorb a drought from its captain and its secondary forwards simultaneously.

The Vegas collapse wasn't a fluke of variance. It was the confirmation of a pattern that had been visible all spring. Colorado built a 2-0 series lead and then ran out of scorers. The Avalanche had the shots; they simply couldn't put the puck in the net when elimination was the alternative. History is littered with teams that had elite top lines and couldn't close — the early-2010s Pittsburgh teams that kept running into Boston, the Presidents' Trophy winners who became first-round footnotes. Dominant possession and a generational defenseman are not enough if the third and fourth lines contribute nothing but volume.

Joe Sakic understood this, which is why the summer was so aggressive on the forward side. Nichushkin, who produced only modestly in 40 games and underperformed in the postseason, was moved to Columbus. Jaden Schwartz was signed to bring veteran depth, though his injury status remains unresolved heading into camp — a real problem, not a minor footnote. Georgii Merkulov and Zach L'Heureux were layered in as contingency options, bets on upside that Boston and elsewhere didn't fully trust. My read is that Merkulov is the most interesting of the group: a player with clear offensive instincts who simply needs a system and a role that suits him. Whether he can provide what Colorado needs in April is a different question entirely.

The Makar deal matters for a reason that goes beyond the numbers: it signals that this franchise is not rebuilding around the edges, not hedging, not treating the window as already closed. A multiple Norris Trophy winner signed through his prime years is a statement of intent. But the 2022 Cup team that Makar anchored won because secondary contributors showed up — because role players converted in tight games. That version of Colorado had depth that punched above its weight when it mattered. This version has a historically paid defenseman, a captain who went cold at the worst moment, and a collection of new forwards who have never played a postseason game together.

The foundation is real. The commitment is real. But the Avalanche have now spent generational money on the assumption that they can build a complete team around an incomplete one. Makar locked in is the prerequisite. What happens in the other 17 skaters' crease time — that's the actual question. And training camp, not a signing ceremony, is where the answer starts.