Langley in January is a specific kind of miserable. The rain doesn’t just fall; it colonizes. Inside the arena, the air smells like overpriced popcorn and the desperate, pheromonal sweat of teenagers trying to prove they aren’t a bad investment.

The 2026 WHL Top Prospects Game isn’t really a hockey game. It’s a showroom floor. It’s CES, but instead of vaporware transparent TVs, we’re looking at human hardware with a high failure rate. NHL scouts sit in the stands like vultures in Canada Goose parkas, scribbling notes on kids who haven’t yet figured out how to grow a decent beard. It’s a meat market. And business is booming.

Here are the seven names that managed to cut through the gray fog.

1. Landon DuPont (D, Everett Silvertips) The "Exceptional Status" tag is a hell of a thing to carry. It’s a heavy backpack. DuPont plays the game like he’s already bored with it, which is the ultimate compliment. His skating isn't just fast; it’s efficient. He doesn't waste energy on the "theatrics" of effort. He’s the MacBook Pro of defenders—sleek, expensive, and runs circles around everything else until the heat gets too high. He logged twenty-four minutes of ice time and barely looked like he’d broken a sweat. If he isn’t the first overall pick in 2027, the system is broken.

2. Casen Iginla (F, Kelowna Rockets) The name carries a certain tax. You can see the friction in his play; he wants to be the power forward his father was, but the modern game demands a different kind of finesse. Iginla found that balance in the second period, scoring a goal that was less about skill and more about sheer, stubborn refusal to lose the puck. He’s the legacy sequel that actually works. He’s Top Gun: Maverick. Familiar, but with better production values.

3. Griffin O’Neill (F, Brandon Wheat Kings) O’Neill is the "glitch in the matrix" prospect. He’s six-foot-three but moves with the twitchy agitation of a much smaller man. He spent most of the first period annoying the opposing defenders, playing a style that scouts call "heavy" and everyone else calls "annoying." He’s the physical manifestation of a pop-up ad you can’t close. He’s not here to be your friend. He’s here to take up space and ruin your afternoon.

4. Arlo Finch (D, Prince Albert Raiders) If DuPont is the MacBook, Finch is the custom Linux rig. He makes choices that don’t make sense to anyone else until the play develops three seconds later. His advanced metrics are probably glowing. He finished the night with two assists, both of which came from passes that looked like mistakes until they landed perfectly on a tape. He’s a high-risk, high-reward asset. The kind of player a GM drafts when he wants to look like the smartest guy in the room, or when he wants to get fired.

5. Mikael Sjöberg (F, Spokane Chiefs) The lone European import in the standout pile. Sjöberg plays with a clinical coldness. He doesn't hit; he just occupies the space you wanted to be in. His goal in the third was a masterclass in positioning. He didn't beat the goalie with speed; he beat him with geometry. It was deeply unsatisfying to watch if you like "passion," but a dream if you like results. He’s a silent background process that eventually eats all your RAM.

6. Benny "The Wall" Sawatzky (G, Moose Jaw Warriors) Goalies are the NFTs of the hockey world. Their value is entirely speculative and can drop to zero overnight. Sawatzky, however, looked like a blue-chip stock. He stopped thirty-two shots, including a cross-crease robbery that made the scouts actually look up from their iPads. He stays remarkably quiet in the net. No flailing. No panic. He just exists, and the puck stops existing. It’s a neat trick.

7. Kaelen Vance (F, Red Deer Rebels) Vance is the "grit" entry. Every draft needs one. He’s the guy who blocked three shots in a game that doesn’t actually count for any standings. It’s the kind of performative masochism that NHL coaches drool over. He’s the hardware that doesn’t have the best specs but somehow survives being dropped down a flight of stairs. You need him on your team, even if you hate watching him play.

The scouts will leave Langley and fly back to their respective cities, convinced they’ve seen the future. They haven’t. They’ve seen a snapshot of a very expensive, very fragile process. The price of admission for these kids is their entire childhood, and the ROI is usually a stint in the American League and a bad shoulder.

Will any of these teenagers actually save a dying franchise in five years?

Probably not, but the lighting in the arena sure made it look possible.