The Greatest Show on Ice Faces Its Defining Moment Could Blaine 2025 Mark the End of Frankenfeld’s Era?

The North American Hockey League’s annual Showcase has long been celebrated as the “Greatest Show on Ice,” a four-day festival of junior hockey that transforms Blaine, Minnesota into the epicenter of scouting, opportunity, and ambition. From September 24–27, 2025, the Super Rink will once again host every NAHL team, each playing three games in front of more than 9,000 fans and over 300 scouts representing the NHL, NCAA, and junior programs. The United States National Team Development Program’s U17 squad will also take the ice for two games, adding a national spotlight to an already electric atmosphere. For players, the Showcase represents a chance to earn the attention of Division I coaches and professional evaluators. For families, it is the culmination of years of sacrifice. For the league, it is the crown jewel of its calendar. Yet this year, a question looms larger than any matchup on the ice: could this be the final Showcase under commissioner and president Mark Frankenfeld?

The Showcase has always been about opportunity, and the NAHL has built its reputation on delivering it. The league averages more than 350 NCAA commitments annually, with roughly 70 percent of those at the Division I level. Dozens of those commitments are sparked directly by performances in Blaine, where scouts get their first comprehensive look at the league’s talent pool. Alongside the NAHL games, more than 100 Tier I programs will compete in the 14U, 15U, 16U, and 18U divisions, marking the opening weekend of the T1ER season. Guest teams from across the country, including Minnesota’s High Performance program, will join the mix, while the FALL League continues its second weekend of play. The result is a hockey carnival unmatched in scale, a convergence of youth, junior, and elite prospects under one roof. But while the Showcase thrives as a spectacle, the league’s leadership finds itself under unprecedented scrutiny.

Yesterday, the NAHL’s Board of Governors met for more than five hours, a marathon session that insiders suggest that the before and after talk was dominated by concerns about Frankenfeld’s leadership. For nearly two decades, Frankenfeld has been the face of the league, guiding it through expansion, contraction, and the shifting economics of junior hockey. Yet in recent years, his tenure has been increasingly defined not by stability but by what critics have dubbed “Frankenfollies”—a series of questionable decisions and inconsistencies that have eroded confidence among owners and stakeholders. The Showcase may be the league’s proudest tradition, but behind the scenes, the conversation is less about the games and more about whether the man who built the event will be allowed to continue leading the league.

The term “Frankenfollie” has become shorthand for the commissioner’s missteps, a label born out of frustration with decisions that appear arbitrary, contradictory, or simply out of touch with the realities of the sport. One of the most glaring examples involves the Maine Nordiques, who considered a more viable market in Wasilla, Alaska. Despite precedent for such moves—the Alaska Avalanche once became the Johnstown Tomahawks, the Soo Eagles morphed into the New Jersey Titans, and the Wenatchee Wild embarked on a multi-city odyssey—the Nordiques were denied. The inconsistency left owners baffled, fueling the perception that rules are applied selectively and that logic often takes a backseat to stubbornness. For many, it was a classic Frankenfollie: a decision that made little sense, enforced with the authority of a hockey god, and leaving everyone worse off.

So what are NAHL owners going to think if the Nordiques ownership pulls the plug in a few weeks and they all have to kick in $15,000+ to run the team for the rest of the season?

Another black mark came with the Minnesota Mallards, whose 2024–25 season was such a disaster that it has been described as one of the most embarrassing episodes in league history. The franchise collapsed under the weight of poor planning and execution, a failure so complete it seemed almost satirical. Critics argue that the league’s vetting process under Frankenfeld allowed the Mallards to exist in the first place, exposing systemic weaknesses in oversight. The fiasco became a rallying point for those who believe the commissioner’s leadership has drifted from pragmatic stewardship into reckless experimentation.

The Colorado Grit provided yet another cautionary tale. Widely seen as a vanity project for a wealthy parent, the team epitomized the dangers of allowing money to dictate membership. When the owner’s son aged out, the franchise faltered, leaving the league scrambling for a scapegoat. Instead of addressing the structural issue, Frankenfeld oversaw the hiring of a fall guy from the NA3HL, raising questions about accountability and transparency. For owners who invest millions into their franchises, the perception that the league tolerates “toy teams” undermines the credibility of the entire operation.

Expansion has also been a sore spot. The NA3HL’s push into the southeastern United States was met with skepticism from the start, as many in the hockey community recognized the limited viability of pay-to-play markets in those regions. The result has been a patchwork of unstable franchises, logistical headaches, and games that sometimes fail to materialize. Rather than strengthening the developmental pipeline, the expansion has created what some describe as a “land of ghost ships,” further eroding confidence in the league’s direction.

Perhaps the most persistent criticism, however, involves the league’s marketing of its NCAA Division I pipeline. Promotional materials often highlight the presence of Division I scouts at the Showcase, creating the impression that every player is on the cusp of a scholarship. While the NAHL did produce Division I talent in the past, the reality is that the majority of future commitments will occur at the Division III or ACHA Division I levels. By continuing to try and sell the Division I dream, critics argue, the league risks misleading families and players, prioritizing optics over honesty. It is, in the words of one observer, the “Powerball illusion”—a shimmering mirage of glory that few will ever reach.

All of these issues weighed heavily on the Board of Governors before their recent meeting. While no official statement has been released, multiple sources suggest that the possibility of Frankenfeld’s forced retirement is now being openly discussed. For owners, the question is no longer whether the commissioner has delivered value in the past—few dispute that he has—but whether his leadership style and decision-making are sustainable for the league’s future. The Showcase may be thriving, but the league’s credibility and stability are at stake.

The timing of this debate is particularly striking. The Showcase is designed to highlight the league’s strengths: its ability to attract scouts, generate commitments, and provide a platform for players to advance. Yet this year, the event doubles as a referendum on its leader. Every handshake, every press conference, every appearance by Frankenfeld will be scrutinized not just for what it says about the league’s present, but for what it signals about its future. Could Blaine 2025 be remembered not only for the goals scored and commitments earned, but also as the swan song of a commissioner whose tenure has run its course?

For players and families, the politics of league governance may seem distant, overshadowed by the immediacy of competition and opportunity. But for owners, coaches, and scouts, the stakes are clear. The NAHL has built a reputation as a premier developmental league, one that consistently outpaces its peers in producing NCAA commitments. Maintaining that reputation requires not just talent on the ice, but trust in the league’s leadership. If that trust has eroded beyond repair, then change may be inevitable.

As the Showcase unfolds, the spotlight will shine brightest on the players chasing their dreams. Yet in the boardrooms and back corridors of the Super Rink, another drama will play out—one that could reshape the league for years to come. Whether Frankenfeld survives this moment or not, the 2025 Showcase will be remembered as a turning point, a moment when the NAHL confronted the tension between tradition and transformation. The “Greatest Show on Ice” has always been about beginnings. This year, it may also mark an ending.