When you take the gloves off, you get blood on your hands, Kyle. That’s how it works. … End of the day someone has to make the enemy scared of the dark.”
– Captain Price, Call of Duty: Modern Warfare

There are a lot of ways Nathan MacKinnon could have started his 14th NHL season. Two goals would have probably sufficed. Two goals in an eight-goal Avalanche opener would have been even nicer. Maybe tack on eight shots, an 8-4 win, and a Ball Arena crowd already remembering what one of the most dangerous hockey teams on the planet looks like when they get rolling.

MacKinnon apparently felt that wasn’t quite enough… so he beat the hell out of Brandt Clarke.

To be fair, “beat the hell out of” isn’t technically a hockey statistic, though I’d argue it should be, and MacKinnon’s third-period fight against the Los Angeles Kings defenseman will only show up in the box score as five minutes in the penalty box next to his name. But anyone who watched it knows those five minutes probably said more about how the Colorado Avalanche feel about last season than either of MacKinnon’s goals did.

Clarke had already spent plenty of time getting under Colorado’s skin, clear back to last year’s playoffs, and when he drove Cale Makar into the boards Wednesday night, there was already a response. T.J. Hughes confronted him. Makar gave him a glove to the face. MacKinnon apparently felt further discussion was warranted.

A gloves-off sort of discussion.

Maybe that’s not a bad theme for this entire Avalanche season. Because there is a version of last year’s story that sounds like an absolutely remarkable success. Colorado won a franchise-record 121 points. They won the Presidents’ Trophy. They finished 55-16-11. They allowed fewer goals than any team in hockey. They swept Los Angeles in the first round of the playoffs, needed only five games to get past Minnesota, and made their first Western Conference Final since their recent Stanley Cup run.

I wrote at the halfway point of this last postseason that it was one of the deepest Avalanche teams I’d ever seen. Seventeen different players had already scored playoff goals. They had stars, depth, defense, two goaltenders playing remarkable hockey, and the sort of chemistry that had guys throwing around the word “family” without sounding like they’d just been handed a talking point.

I also wrote this, not realizing it would precede the season-ending meltdown:

“If something goes wrong between here and this era’s second Stanley Cup, the remarkable season and postseason this ultra-deep team has put together will no longer be remembered with such fondness.”

Well, hell. Something went wrong. Four somethings, actually.

The Vegas Golden Knights swept the best regular-season team in hockey directly out of the Western Conference Final. The Avs held leads in Games 2 and 3 and lost them both. A Colorado team that had been 5-0 in the postseason when scoring first suddenly couldn’t close the door. Cale Makar’s injury surely mattered. A power play that had been a problem all season certainly didn’t help.

What stopped mattering was any rationale or excuses. A team that had spent six months looking like a machine was gone in four games. The machine had ground to a decided halt. That’s something that is painfully hard to forget, not only for fans, but the guys who suddenly ground to that ignominious halt.

If Wednesday night was any indication, they haven’t forgotten any of it.

It would be silly to turn one ridiculous 8-4 season opener into a referendum on the next eight months. In fact, parts of Wednesday’s win were downright ugly. Colorado gave up two shorthanded goals. Their defense gave up too much. Mackenzie Blackwood had a few gaffes he’d probably like to have back. MacKinnon himself admitted afterward that there was plenty to clean up. But there was something else there.

An edge.

Colorado’s power play, ranked 29th last season, went a ludicrous 4-for-5. The penalty kill went 4-for-4. Eight Avalanche players had multiple points. Thirteen different players recorded at least one. The eight goals were the most Colorado has ever scored in a season opener. A great start, and yet just a start.

And so the team’s best player, with the game already tilting heavily Colorado’s way, decided he was not going to watch another opponent take liberties with Makar.

There was no cause for desperation. And the fight didn’t look desperate. They were winning. It looked personal. It looked like MacKinnon had simply (and already) had enough.

That’s an important distinction, because this is not some young Avalanche team trying to figure out whether it belongs amongst the NHL’s elite. That question was answered years ago. MacKinnon is 31. Makar is in his prime. Gabriel Landeskog has made his astounding way back. Nazem Kadri has somehow found his way home. Brock Nelson is still here. Devon Toews is still here. Some of the pieces have changed, but most of the best pieces are still very much intact. The window decidedly isn’t closed.

But nobody inside Ball Arena ought to be pretending it’s going to stay open forever, either. So maybe the intensity of eight goals and a couple of gloves on the ice is exactly what is needed to fuel this team for another 100 games or so.

Colorado made its feelings about that window pretty damned clear before Wednesday’s game even started. The organization gave Jared Bednar another four years, extending him through 2030-31. Joe Sakic didn’t couch the decision in any rebuild language, either. He called Bednar “the best coach for this group” and said his presence “maximizes the team’s potential while this core group is intact.”

The players overwhelmingly concur. While this core group is intact. There’s the assignment.

Last season’s failure wasn’t proof that this era is over. In some ways, it proved exactly the opposite. You don’t accidentally collect 121 points. You don’t accidentally win the Presidents’ Trophy, allow the fewest goals in hockey, and go 8-1 through the first two rounds of the Stanley Cup playoffs. The Avs were that good.

Which is precisely why what happened next hurt so damned much. Still hurts so damned much.

Maybe that’s why MacKinnon’s fight Wednesday felt like more than the usual opening-night silliness. He’s not a guy who makes a habit of dropping his gloves. It was only his second NHL fighting major. He is far more useful to the Avalanche scoring goals than sitting in a penalty box after throwing punches.

But there are moments when leaders say things without saying anything at all.

Clarke hit Makar. MacKinnon not only hit Clarke, he straight up told him he was coming before he laid him out on the ice. That ended up being a low-cost, high-reward five minutes.

30 seconds after MacKinnon came out of the box, his longtime running mate Gabriel Landeskog scored Colorado’s seventh goal of the night. Less than two minutes after that, Artturi Lehkonen made it eight.

It’s one game. That’s all this was. Nobody gets to avenge a Western Conference Final sweep in September. Nobody gets the Presidents’ Trophy back, and I’m guessing nobody in that Avalanche locker room particularly wants it back anyway. The only trophy that can change how last season ended won’t be handed out until June, and has a certain Lord’s name emblazoned. That’s what this is all about. Setting a tone for a long stretch to come. There are 81 games between here and there, followed by however many more Colorado earns.

But for a team that spent last season climbing higher than anyone else in hockey before suddenly falling off the damned mountain, there are worse ways to begin climbing again.

Eight goals. Two from MacKinnon. And when somebody started acting the unnecessary a-hole, the gloves came off.

Maybe this year they stay that way.