John Tavares Fast? Yes! Because Speed Isn't Skating; It's Thinking
One of the ideas I've been kicking around for a while is this: speed on the ice isn't about skating. It's about thinking.
At first glance, that sounds wrong. Hockey has always celebrated speed as something you measure with a stopwatch. We talk about blazing skaters, explosive first steps, and players who can fly through the neutral zone. But I don't think that's where real speed begins. In fact, John Tavares is known for how quickly he gets where he’s supposed to on the ice, but he’s far from what anyone would call a “speedy skater” in the Connor McDavid sense.
Tavares’ high hockey IQ makes the difference in his game.
John Tavares is a perfect example of how hockey IQ can create effective on-ice speed without elite skating. NHL Edge tracking has repeatedly shown that his top speed and burst numbers are good rather than exceptional for a first-line center. Yet he consistently arrives in the right areas at the right time and releases the puck before defenders can react.
Tavares recognizes developing plays early enough that ordinary skating becomes sufficient. In short, his speed on the ice is less about how fast his feet move and more about how early his brain solves the problem. In fact, NHL Edge team-level speed data and long-standing scouting observations that Tavares’s game is driven more by intelligence and timing than by raw athleticism.
Related: Maple Leafs’ Biggest Change? Not the Players, But How They Play
The Maple Leafs were slow during the 2025-26 season.
Last season, I found myself watching Craig Berube's Maple Leafs and wondering why they looked slower than they actually were. This wasn't a roster full of slow players. Auston Matthews isn't slow. William Nylander certainly isn't slow. Morgan Rielly can still skate. Yet, as a team, there were long stretches when Toronto looked as though it was playing a half-second behind the action.
I don't think it was because they couldn't skate. I think it was because they were too worried about making mistakes, so they didn't trust their instincts. Berube wanted structure. He wanted responsibility. He wanted players to avoid the costly mistakes that had haunted previous Maple Leafs teams. There was logic behind that approach. You can't win in the playoffs by giving away odd-man rushes or forcing low-percentage plays.
But there may have been an unintended consequence.
When NHL players are primarily focused on not making mistakes, they hesitate.
They check before they attack. They wait instead of anticipate. They look for certainty instead of opportunity. In hockey, that hesitation is everything.
The fastest teams aren't necessarily the ones with the fastest skaters. They're the ones that process the game together. They recognize patterns almost instantly. One player starts moving because he already knows where his teammate is going. Another fills open ice before anyone calls for help. Decisions happen almost automatically because trust replaces doubt.
That's real speed, and it begins with thinking rather than skating.
Maybe the fastest NHL teams aren't simply full of fast players.
Maybe they're full of players who trust one another enough to think less and anticipate more. That's why championship teams often seem to arrive first even when they don't have the fastest roster. They aren't winning races because they skate harder. They're winning because they recognized the play before everyone else did.
From where I sit, that may be where hockey is heading. The next evolution of the game may not be about finding players who skate faster or even who are the most skilled. It may be about building teams that process the game faster—together.
If that's true, then speed has never really been about skating. It's always been about thinking.